20. Kat
20
KAT
T his may be a king-sized bed, but right now, it feels smaller than the love seat where I originally planned to sleep.
Everything was fine when we went to sleep. Blake settled on his side, I stayed on mine, and we had plenty of space between us.
So why do I feel like I’m being squished between two walls?
I wiggle my butt, trying to make some space, and a sound makes me freeze.
What was that?
“Mmmm.” It comes again, low and rumbling.
As if someone has flipped a light switch, my brain suddenly starts functioning. I’m lying on the very edge of the mattress, at risk of falling off the bed entirely, while Blake has managed to make his way over to my side during the night. He’s pressed up against me, my back to his chest, and one heavily muscled arm is wrapped around my midsection, holding me close.
“Blake,” I hiss, trying to wake him up.
I wiggle my hips again and immediately wish I hadn’t.
Or maybe I wish I’d gotten a better feel.
Because my back may be pressed against his chest, but my ass is up against something else entirely.
Something hard.
Big.
Really big.
My body heats as I remember our night together, the way he felt inside me. The way he commanded my body, allowing me to surrender my control to him.
The kiss we shared in the bar.
There’s something between us, more than just an arrangement. Blake has even admitted it.
What I don’t understand is why he’s so against turning this into something real. It certainly feels real right now, with him holding me close and both of us turned on.
Okay, maybe it’s just me, and his erection is just morning wood or in response to a dream.
But that kiss? He wasn’t faking .
“Mmm.” Blake mumbles something unintelligible and pulls me closer, and dear God, I have to actively stop myself from grinding my ass up against his groin.
When did I become such a sex-crazed hussy?
Actually, don’t answer that. I can guess. It was probably around the time that this man gave me the best sex of my life and then declared that we’d spend all this time together with “no intimacy at all.” It’s like I’ve been edged for the past three months. I’m about to explode.
“Blake,” I whisper.
His only response is another muffled sound.
I’m so sexually frustrated that I’m about to scream. I press my thighs together, searching for some relief, but it’s not enough.
Why did he have to sleep practically naked?
I followed the rules. Everyone knows that if you’re pretending to be someone’s girlfriend, you’re inevitably going to end up sharing a bed at some point. Right? So I planned ahead and packed for any option—flannel shorts and top to be cute but comfortable, a T-shirt and shorts if we’re going casual, and a nearly see-through negligee. Just in case.
Blake, on the other hand, didn’t plan ahead. Or maybe he did, and he’s intentionally torturing me. A pair of boxers that does nothing to hide his sizable bulge with nothing else? That’s what you wear when you’re in your bed alone. Or when you’re sleeping with your actual girlfriend.
Not when you insist that there can’t be anything real between you and the person you’re sharing a bed with.
I shift again.
Blake is dead to the world.
But maybe it’s not the worst thing. I slide my hand down, moving beneath his hold, to tease the waistband of my flannel shorts. When he doesn’t show any sign of waking, I let my fingers slip beneath the elastic and down to find my clit.
I’m hot and wet just from being next to Blake, and even the lightest touch on my clit has me biting my lip to keep from moaning out loud.
I press harder, my fingers sliding over the sensitive spot.
There’s something about Blake’s hard body against mine and the fact that he’s asleep and could wake up any minute and catch me. It’s just taboo enough to drive my arousal higher. I move my fingers faster, rushing toward an orgasm.
I hold my breath, trying not to make noise as I near the peak, climbing closer and closer until I tumble over, my body tightening and shaking with the force of my release.
As I come down from my climax, I listen to Blake’s breathing. Is the pattern different? Now that I’m thinking slightly more clearly, I’m hoping I wasn’t loud enough to wake him. He’s in the same position, his arm around my waist. I turn my head to peek at his face—eyes still closed.
Breathing out a sigh of relief, I relax into the pillow.
Then, with no warning, Blake pulls his arm away from me, rolls to the other side of the bed and off, stands, and heads into the bathroom in one swift movement.
I roll over and stare after him, listening. The shower starts.
Crap. He must have heard me, or I woke him up somehow. My face flames with embarrassment.
I’m about to bury my face in my pillow and just fake sleep for the rest of the day. That’s the best course of action here, right? If my fake boyfriend did, indeed, catch me masturbating while in the same bed as him—while cuddling with him, even—the only acceptable solution is avoidance until this has disappeared from our memories.
But then, maybe I shouldn’t be embarrassed. He’s the one who may have caught me, but he’s the one who ran off. For all he knows, I was thinking about someone else.
I mean, I obviously wasn’t. But he doesn’t know that.
Blake has got to be the most frustrating human I’ve ever met. He says he doesn’t want a relationship, but then he proposes this fake-dating thing. He says no real feelings or intimacy, and then he kisses me in the back of a bar and finds every possible opportunity to touch me.
There’s more to this than he’s told me. I can tell.
A sound from the bathroom catches my attention. I strain to hear, but it’s muffled through the door.
So, like any normal sneaky person, I slip out of bed and tiptoe across the room to press my ear to the bathroom door.
The running water from the shower is the loudest noise, but Blake’s deep groan is unmistakable. I’m about to knock and ask if he’s okay, when the sound comes again, long and low.
And then, “Kat. Oh, fuck.”
I gasp, a hand flying up to cover my mouth as I spring back from the door to make sure he doesn’t know I’m snooping .
A smile spreads over my face, and I feel much better about him catching me masturbating.
Because while I’m almost certain now that he did hear me, I know what he’s doing in the shower. And he can say all he wants that there can’t be anything real between us, but he wants me.
I just have to convince him to give it a chance. And since he was in control the first time we were together, this time, it’s all up to me.
“What are you doing?”
Blake glares at me from his lounge chair. “Nothing.”
Well, maybe not glares. But his look suggests that he’s either annoyed with me, on edge, or displeased with some situation.
I’m inclined to think it’s all of the above.
I give him a bright smile as I lean on my elbow, letting my boobs press together into some pretty impressive cleavage.
We’re relaxing by the pool, both of us in swimsuits. Blake wanted to just keep things low-key today before the rehearsal dinner tonight .
From my perspective, things are about as opposite of low-key as they can get.
Ever since I overheard Blake taking care of himself in the shower and muttering my name while he stroked himself, I’m on a mission. To prove to Blake that we have a chance.
Did this start as an arrangement? Yes. But there’s so much more here. I know it, and he knows it. And I’m not talking about the attraction that he pointed out in the blandest way.
I want him. I’ll admit it. Since our one-night stand, I’ve fantasized about having a repeat of that evening.
But it’s more than just lust, I’ve realized. I’ve gotten used to being around Blake. When something happens, he’s the one I want to tell.
I’ve never been in love. I’m not even sure I know what love is, if I’m being honest. But Blake is the first person I’ve been with—even if I’m not really with him—who makes me want to see if love can really happen.
And I’ll be damned if his hard-headedness stands in the way of that. I’m Kat Fucking Milas. I’m a catch.
To drive home the point in my internal debate, I lean farther toward him, squeezing my breasts together with my upper arms until I look like some kind of Sports Illustrated swimsuit model .
Heat flares in Blake’s eyes as his gaze rakes down my neck and to my breasts.
I give them another squeeze, just in case.
“Do you want to get a drink?” I ask innocently.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I’m good. Do you need me to go grab you something?”
I tilt my head, giving him another few seconds to take in my pose. “No thanks. Was just seeing if you wanted something.”
I roll onto my back, resting an arm over my eyes.
The bikini I chose today was strategic. It’s a pale blue, the tiny triangles of fabric leaving plenty of cleavage on display, and the bottoms cut high on my hips, and I’m loving the appreciation in Blake’s gaze.
While I might dress conservatively when I teach, I work hard for my body, and I’m proud of it.
The key to seducing a man, though, is to leave him wanting.
I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the lounge chair. “I’m going to head in and get cleaned up for the rehearsal dinner. You coming?”
“I’m going to stay here.” Blake has been a man of few words today, his communication consisting mostly of heated stares and one-word answers.
I smirk as I walk away, swaying my hips a touch more than usual. If I’m already getting to him, he’s in for a surprise.
Leaning toward the mirror, I add a touch of lipstick to freshen my look. Everything is going according to plan this evening.
My makeup is on point. My dress hits at exactly the right spot to showcase my calves, long and lean in the nude heels that give me an extra three inches of height. The jade green fabric complements me perfectly, making my hazel eyes a shade warmer somehow, and the neckline strikes the perfect balance between high enough to wear to a classy event like a rehearsal dinner and low enough to attract attention.
Not just anyone’s attention. Blake’s.
And I can tell I have it.
His gaze has been on me practically every second, so heated and heavy I can feel it. I’m taking every opportunity to touch him. We’re seated next to one another at the dinner table, and I’m using the proximity to its full advantage.
Leaning over to whisper something directly in his ear.
Touching his muscled forearm to get his attention .
“Accidentally” tapping his foot with mine.
From the way the muscle in his jaw jumped the last two times I brushed my fingers over his arm, I think we’re in a solid position. When we make our way back to the room tonight, I’ll make my move. He won’t be able to resist it.
I give my boobs a squeeze and drop the lipstick back into my purse.
Heading down the hallway on my way back to dinner, I see Blake approaching from the opposite direction. My stomach clenches with nerves even as a sly smile crosses his face.
I put extra sway into my step and lift my chin as I get closer. But instead of passing me, he stops and faces me, halting me in place, and then closes the distance. I take a step back, then another, until I’m practically up against the wall.
My breath is ragged as I look up into his eyes. The pupils are so dilated that the blue is only a sliver around the black.
He leans in. I dart my tongue out to wet my lips, parting them slightly.
But instead of meeting my lips, he brushes his mouth along my jawline to my ear. “I know what you’re doing, Professor.”
The term sounds almost mocking .
A shiver runs through my body as the short hairs of his five-o’clock shadow scrape along my skin.
I pull in a shaky breath. “And what is that?”
His voice is a low rumble. “You’ve been teasing me, Kitten. All day.”
“You think so?” The heat coming off his body tells me I’m treading on thin ice here, but fuck if I don’t want to poke the bear.
He’s been so aloof until now, despite our obvious connection. I need to get a reaction out of him, even if I’m playing with fire.
He chuckles darkly. “You want to do this, Kat? We’re going to do it my way.”