Chapter Nineteen #2
After Rachel had taken the specifics of their order, she left, and Blake watched her go, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“You know,” he said, “Once I realized it was you, I wasn’t sure how to proceed.
” He turned back to face her again, his expression so open and unguarded it made something ache inside Maggie’s chest. “I wasn’t sure if it had all been about the article. ”
Maggie swallowed around the lump in her throat. “You thought I didn’t mean it.”
“I did wonder.” He smiled, and that smile was sad, too, the different possibilities warring against each other. “And even more than that, I didn’t know if you’d want it to be me.”
“I didn’t know if you’d want it to be me,” Maggie echoed, her fingers wrapping instinctively around the edge of the table, like she was in danger of falling off her chair, like the world was tilting out from under her.
And maybe it was.
“Maggie.” Blake’s voice was soft and so, so tender. He reached out, hand hovering above hers, and met her eyes. It was all the confirmation she needed. She turned her hand palm up, and when he took it in his, the lump in her throat went away.
A laugh tumbled out of her, a laugh of relief and hope with a touch of anxiety mixed in. “I’m not going to run away.”
Blake nodded, a devilish glint coming into his eyes, a look she’d never seen before. “I’m very good at making you stay put.”
Maggie gasped, her fingers reflexively tightening around his while he chuckled. “I can’t believe you said that!” Her face burned, and she swallowed. “What happens now?”
“I know what I’d like to happen.” Blake traced one finger over her wrist, and a shiver raced across her skin. “We’ll have filet.”
Maggie licked her lips. “Yeah? And then what?”
Blake watched her tongue, eyes dark, then met her gaze again and with a mischievous smile.
“Then we’ll see.”
Blake could not look away from Maggie throughout dinner.
She was radiant. They hadn’t figured everything out, and he wasn’t sure if Chauvel would show up back in their lives again, but he knew the most important thing: Maggie wanted to be with him, and he wanted to be with her. They didn’t need anything else.
With possibilities looming in front of them, he kept looking at her hands, her lips, the curve of her neck, imagining nibbling his way down that sensitive skin.
He’d slept with her only two days ago, but back then, he was only Blake, and she was only Maggie.
But now she was also Rose, and he was also the Pimpernel, and he wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone before.
Dinner stretched on through the evening.
She got two check-in calls, one from Cora and one from Phoebe, and she confirmed with each that no, she was not being murdered.
They talked through their meal and dessert: about important things, like Giselda’s email, and anonymity, and which of their friends could know the truth.
They also talked about trivial matters, jokes, their opinions on shared desserts, the mundane and beautiful moments that together could comprise a relationship.
The longer he talked with her, the longer he watched her play with the tablecloth and the napkins and shift her gaze away from him, smiling all the while, the more he knew that they were going to have a lot of fun together.
“Maggie.”
Blake had never used that tone of voice with her before: clear, confident, commanding. His Dom voice. Immediately, her back straightened, awareness sparking in her widening eyes.
He couldn’t wait to see how far that went.
Blake took Maggie’s hand across the table, ran his thumb across her knuckles, watched the color rise in her cheeks. “Do you want to get out of here?”
He’d never paid a check that fast in his life.
The blur of credit cards, signatures, her red, red lips; all of it blended to get them out the door and into the cold night air.
He dragged her with him out onto the sidewalk, laughing, breath puffing in front of them.
Then she turned and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat.
“Listen,” she said, opening her mouth like she was going to follow it up with something else.
But she looked into his eyes, and rather than say anything else, she leaned across the space between them and kissed him.
Blake lost his balance, back hitting the brick wall beside the restaurant, mind going blank.
Impossibly warm, impossibly soft, impossibly sweet, everything impossible.
Before he knew it, his hands were in her hair, holding her still, and he was the one leading the kiss.
Her mouth opened beneath his and she sagged against him, yielding, a soft moan slipping out.
He wanted to hear all the noises she had been hiding.
“Maggie,” he whispered against her lips, stealing another kiss, then another, getting drunk on her sweetness.
“Get a room!” somebody hollered from the street, and he let their lips part. She blinked at him and gave him a lazy smile.
“We should get a room,” she agreed. “Or maybe a whole condo.”
“I have to keep my hands to myself the entire way back?” Now that they’d started, he didn’t want to stop.
“It’s good for you.” She winked, stepping back and taking his hands in hers. “Gives you a chance to really think about this.”
“I’ve had a lot of chances.” He pulled her back against him for one more kiss, and she smiled against his mouth. “Let’s go.”