Chapter 15 Juliet
Juliet
My mind is completely at war with my heart as I nestle into Blake’s side, my thumb lightly brushing over my kiss-swollen lips.
The chemistry between us is magnetic and intoxicating, and I can’t deny how safe I feel in his arms, but I need to be smart about this.
As much as my body is screaming at me to drag him into my bedroom and lose myself in his touch, my head is telling me to be careful.
I rushed into a relationship with Edward, who was charming and swept me off my feet, and that ended in three years of physical and mental abuse that almost broke me.
I can’t put Tinsley at risk by rushing into something with rose-coloured glasses on.
My little princess has been through so much in her short life.
She’s seen the worst in her father, and I desperately need to believe that he was the exception, not the rule.
I want her to know that not all men are like him.
Kissing Blake is intense and passionate and all-consuming, but there’s a level of comfort and ease in his embrace. There’s no demand, no expectation. I’m in charge, and though it’s so far from what I experienced with Edward, a little voice inside me keeps telling me to be careful.
I don’t know Blake. How do I know he won’t hurt me?
“What’s on your mind, pixie?” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of my head.
I groan, burying my face in his chest. “That I overthink things way too much.”
He squeezes me tight. “You and me both.”
“Great,” I tease, tilting my head to look at him. “We’re both screwed.”
“Pretty much.” His laughter is warm, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
It allows the doubt to settle, and I relax into him, my head tipping back to rest on his shoulder.
“So,” I say after a moment, tracing lazy patterns on his chest, “you’re the striker on the Beckford U team, handy at putting together flat packs, and a phenomenal kisser. What else should I know about you, Mr Overthinker?”
“Phenomenal kisser, hmm?” He smirks, running his thumb over my lips.
“Focus,” I chastise, swatting his chest. “I need to know you’re worth my time.”
His grin widens, and he shakes his head. “You’re adorable when you’re bossy.”
I arch a brow in response.
“Okay,” he says, his body shaking with laughter. “Let me think… I make a mean risotto, I live on coffee, and I’m way better at late-night talks than early mornings.”
“Early mornings suck,” I agree, nodding my approval.
“Perfect,” he says, booping my nose. “We’ll get along just fine.”
“Going back to the phenomenal kissing…”
“Uh-uh,” he says, shaking his head. “My turn to find out the important things about you.”
I huff an exaggerated sigh. “I’d much rather the kissing.”
His lips quirk into an amused smile. “I’m sure you would.”
“What do you want to know?”
He taps his chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… What are the deal-breakers?”
I poke him in the side, and he squirms, shooting me the most devastatingly heart-melting grin.
“Favourite colour, favourite holiday destination, and your favourite thing about being a mum.”
My stomach flips. Ever since finding out about Tinsley, Blake hasn’t shied away from the fact that I have a daughter, and I once again find myself wondering if he’s real.
Swallowing, I meet his gaze as I say, “Purple, the French Riviera, and watching her laugh like the world hasn’t taught her to be careful yet.”
For a moment, he just looks at me, something soft and imperceptible crossing his face.
“That might be the best answer I’ve ever heard,” he says, his voice husky.
My cheeks warm. “It’s true.”
He lifts a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, and I lean into his touch as he murmurs, “Lucky kid.”
There’s something deeper behind his words, but before I can contemplate what it is, he leans in and kisses me. My fingers tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer. Every brush of his lips sends sparks up my spine, and I press against him, losing myself in the way he makes me feel.
When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against mine, his breaths uneven. His thumb traces lazy circles along my jaw.
“Still overthinking?” he teases.
I shake my head, my pulse racing as a smile tugs at my lips. “Not even a little.”
“Good.” He presses a kiss to my forehead.
I stifle a yawn, and Blake checks his watch, cursing when he sees it’s past one in the morning.
“I should go,” he says, but he makes no attempt to move.
“Or you could stay?” I say, my fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.
He squeezes his eyes shut, a pained expression twisting his face. “If I do that, it defeats the whole taking it slow thing.”
A fluttering sensation stirs in my stomach at the thought. “You’re right, but I selfishly don’t want you to leave. We don’t know when we’ll have a chance to see each other.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I brush my lips over his jaw.
“I’m okay with you spending the night, Blake.”
His breath hitches, and his steel-blue eyes finally meet mine. “I’m trying to be the good guy, Juliet.”
The way he says my name causes my heart to stutter.
“You are a good guy,” I assure him. “The two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“I don’t want you thinking I only came here for that.”
My heart swells at how sweet he’s being. That he’s even thinking that tells me what kind of guy he is. “I know you didn’t. This doesn’t have to be a big deal. We don’t even have to do anything—”
The way his heated gaze travels over my body before he raises his brow makes me laugh and swat at him. He captures my hand in his and brings it to his mouth, his kisses grazing my knuckles.
“If you want to go, I won’t force you to stay. I’m just saying I want you to—”
My words cut off with a yelp when Blake pulls me to straddle his lap, crushing his lips to mine. I moan into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair. His hands hook my thighs, and when he gets to his feet, my legs instinctively wrap around his waist.
“Bedroom?” he murmurs against my lips.
“Down the hall from Tinsley’s,” I pant before his mouth is back on mine, his tongue plunging inside.
I don’t even stop to marvel at his strength as he carries me to my bedroom, too lost in his kisses.
It’s dark, with only the light from the living room spilling down the long hallway, and when he lays me on my bed and pulls back to remove his shirt, I reach over to switch on my bedside lamp, bathing the room in a warm glow.
When I look back at him, my mouth waters at the intricate tattoos decorating his sculpted muscles. His body is incredible.
“You like what you see, pixie?” His lips curl into a smirk, and he runs a hand through his hair.
I swallow and nod, unable to find words.
He chuckles as he crawls onto the bed and settles on his side, his head resting on his hand as his hungry gaze washes over me, heating me from the inside out.
“Hi,” he murmurs.
He presses a kiss to my mouth as his fingers trail across my jaw and down my sternum, through the valley of my breasts. Goosebumps chase his touch under the t-shirt I’m wearing, and I shiver when he circles my belly button over the material.
“Hi,” I breathe.
His tongue swipes across his lips. “Are you sure you want this? We can just sleep.”
I lean in and kiss him. “You’re sweet for checking. But I want you, Blake. I want this.”
He grins. “I want you, too, Juliet, and I really, really want this.”
My heart stutters at his confession.
Before I can overthink the overwhelming ramifications of what this means, Blake’s lips are on mine.
His fingers trail lower until they reach the button on my jeans. He quickly discards them, along with my panties, then settles between my legs, running his tongue up the inside of my thigh.
I’m still surprised at how comfortable I am with him touching me. There’s no urge to recoil or dissociate until it’s all over. With Blake, I’m present and my body craves his attention.
My hips lift at the first swipe of his tongue over my pussy, and I whimper, grateful that he’s not edging me tonight.
Our make-out sessions on my couch were torture enough.
My fingers tangle in his hair as he works me over with his tongue, my impending orgasm building quickly.
He moans, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure firing through every nerve ending in my body until I’m on the brink of free-falling over the edge.
I rub shamelessly against him, seeking my release. He chuckles, squeezing my hip before sucking my clit into his warm mouth as he presses a finger inside me. I cry out, my pulse racing and pussy fluttering as he brushes my G-spot with every thrust.
My thighs drop open, giving him more access, and when he adds a second finger, the initial burn as he stretches me takes the edge off my impending release. But as I adjust to him, he works harder, faster, until my back arches, and I come with his name on my lips.
He licks me through my release, his fingers still stroking me, until it becomes too sensitive and I whine for him to kiss me.
When his lips find mine, I moan at our combined taste, pressing my tongue deep into his mouth and taking what I need. His fully clothed bulge ruts against my pussy, prolonging the delicious pleasure in my core.
“Too many clothes,” I murmur against his lips, my fingers trailing over his sides until they reach the waistband of his slacks.
Tracing his warm skin over his hips and across his abs, I follow the path down his V, trying to slip under his pants, but they’re too tight. I huff a soft sound of annoyance, and he breaks our kiss, laughing.
“Someone’s a little impatient,” he says, peppering kisses over my nose and cheeks.
I don’t disagree, popping the button and dragging the zipper down. Then slide my hand inside, palming him over his boxers. He mutters a curse, burying his head in my neck as I rub his hard bulge, my fingers brushing over the five barbells lining the underside of his cock.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, nipping the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “Please tell me you have condoms. I need to be inside you so bad.”
Oh, shit.