"I don't know. The last few years, the only thing I wanted was for my sister to be okay. I haven't had the energy to think about the future."
"Is she ill?"
"No. She has a back injury, but it's not serious anymore." I run my fingers over the railing. "My parents died in a car accident three years ago. She was in the backseat. She was in the ICU for a few weeks, but she pulled through. After physical therapy, she was okay. She has most of her mobility."
"Is she in school?"
"She's going to NYU next year." I beam. Lizzy is going to be great. I'm so damn proud of her.
Meryl stares into her wineglass. "You must have grown up fast."
"I did what I had to do for my family."
She turns her attention to me, studying me the way Blake does. "Any art schools in mind?"
"Not yet."
"Make me a promise, dear."
I struggle to keep up my smile. Promises are not my strong suit. "Okay."
Her expression hardens. "Whatever happens between you and Blake, promise you'll go to school."
Above us, the stars shine. They offer all the possibility in the world.
I have that now. Well, as soon as I have the rest of Blake's money.
But I can't lie to Meryl. Not any more than I have.
I need to mean whatever I tell her.
Am I going to school? It's a new idea, but I like it. Four years to focus on what I want, to find my style, to find myself.
It's perfect. "I promise."
She smiles, softening. "You two don't have to get married on my account."
"We're not."
"He told you. I can tell. After my outburst or before?"
I bite my lip. Suddenly aware I'm not in a jacket. "Before."
"Don't rush on my account."
"That's not it. It's just… I want to do it now, before my sister leaves for school."
"Before she's an entire subway ride away?"
I laugh. "She'll be busy. And I want to do this now." Passionate, whirlwind romance. That's the story. I conjure up the image of something that makes my heart flutter, but the only thing that comes to mind is Blake. Damn. "I love him. I don't want to wait."
She studies me. "I'm sure you have the best intentions, sweetheart. But that kind of fire in your loins—I see the way he looks at you like he's undressing you—that never lasts."
"That's your son."
"Men. They're all the same. Always thinking with the head between their legs." She finishes her drink and sets her glass on the railing. Then all her attention is on me. "He's handsome. Rich. If he's good in bed—"
My cheeks flush. "Don't tell me you want to discuss that."
"No. I'm not that… evolved. But I know what it's like being young and in lust. It clouds things. Makes you believe you're in love." She leans in. "But dear, all the money in the world isn't worth a loveless marriage. Trust me on that. True love is priceless."
My heart thuds against my chest.
It's like she knows I'm lying.
Like she can see every lie I've ever told.
I take a step towards the door. I can't keep this up for any longer.
"Excuse me," I say. "I could go for some dessert. Would you like to join me?"
"No thank you. But help yourself. There's coffee and tea in the pantry. Even some of that almond milk everyone is drinking now."
"I think they've moved onto coconut milk."
She smiles. "Good to know. I'll get some of that next time."
"Thank you. For everything."
"Good luck."
I arch a brow.
"With school. It's a lot to consider."
"Oh. Of course."
She looks back to the sky. She's already lost in her own world.
I force myself to leave without another goodbye.
Downstairs, Blake plays chess against himself.
It's quiet. He's alone.
He glances up at me, most of his attention on the board. "I sent Fiona home in the limo. I'll call us a car whenever you're ready to leave."
"She okay?"
"She will be." He pats the spot next to him. "You want coffee?"
"I want that distraction you promised me."
He smiles. "Your wish is my command."
Chapter Seventeen
I get the hang of chess by the end of the second game. Even without his queen, Blake destroys me. The board is picked clear of white pieces except for the scared king cowering the corner.
The weight on my chest gets heavier. This is moving too fast. I met Blake two weeks ago and we're already planning our wedding.
Meryl doesn't want us to rush.
Can she really want us to lie?
Blake's phone buzzes. He picks it up. "The car is here." But he doesn't look happy about it.
I don't ask. Instead, I gather my things and follow him outside.
There's a black town car waiting on the street. It's normal compared to the limo. But it lacks privacy.
I want to be alone with him.
I want to surrender to him. To lose myself to the sensations he's creating in my body.
I step into the car, drop my purse on the ground, fold my hands in my lap.
Blake gives the driver instructions. There isn't any traffic right now. We should be in his apartment within forty-five minutes.
That's too long.
He makes me impatient.
There's an itch inside me. I'm desperate to scratch it.
Blake is all the way on the other side of the car. The middle seat is between us. It's only a few feet, but it feels like a million miles.
I don't get his head or his heart.
I need his body.
I need it pressed against mine.
I need to destroy every inch of space between us.
The car pulls onto the main road.
Blake's eyes pass over me. They light up with some mix of desire and curiosity. Am I a mystery to him too? It's hard to imagine. I feel like my heart is on my sleeve. But he looks at me like he can't figure me out.
He leans closer, so his mouth is hovering over my ear.
The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down my spine. My nerves wake up. They scream for attention.
His lips skim my neck. It's feather light, but I feel it everywhere. My sex clenches. My nipples harden. My knees knock together.
He kisses me harder.
His lips trail from my ear to my collarbone.
His fingers skim the neckline of my dress. "Unzip that."
"But—" I nod to the driver. Honestly, it doesn't bother me. No. It's more than that. I like the idea of the driver knowing. Of someone watching. It feels dirty. Wrong in the right kind of way.
"Now." He pulls my skirt up my thighs. "Don't make me ask again."
His voice is a demand. His eyes too.
There isn't a single part of me that wants to disobey.
I want to forget my thoughts. To forget everything but his words and his touch.
I reach behind me and pull the zipper down to my ass.
"Take it off."
The driver looks at me through the rearview mirror.
My cheeks flush.
My sex clenches.
He's going to watch.
And I want him watching.
I just don't want the car crashing.
I look to Blake and slide my straps off my shoulders, one at a time. My dress falls to my waist. "Is that enough?"
"Take off your bra." His tongue slides over his lips as he gives me a long once-over.
I follow his orders.
I unhook my bra and drop it on the floor.
This is getting to be a pattern—me topless and him dressed.
On display for him and anyone else who happens to be around.
Blake's eyes fix on me. "You're fucking gorgeous. You know that?"
My cheeks flush. "Thank you."
Blake undoes his seatbelt. He moves into the middle seat and presses his lips into mine.
He palms my breasts, rubbing my nipples with this thumbs. They harden instantly. His touch lights me on fire.
Need. Blake. Now.
It's the only thing my body knows. The only thing it's ever known.
He takes my hand and places it on his thigh.
It makes me hotter. Needier. I want every inch of his skin. I want him every way I can have him.
It feels so good to touch him. Even with his slacks in the way. His legs are muscular. Strong.
He takes my hand and places it over his hard-on.
Yes.
Now.
Please.
He drags his lips to my ear and sucks on my lobe. It sends pleasure right to my sex. I lose track of what I want more—his mouth on me or my hands on him.
It's all of it.
Everything.
"Unzip me," he says.
Yes.
Fuck yes.
I need to touch him.
My breath catches in my throat. My heart thuds against my chest. My hands get clumsy.
I fumble over his belt. Finally, I get it. I undo his button and pull down his zipper.
I cup him over his boxers.
There's barely any fabric between my hand and his cock.
Desire shoots through me. I need to feel him properly. I start to wrap my hand around him, but he grabs my wrist.
"Not until I tell you," he growls.
He's that animal Blake again.
The one I understand. Who understands me. Who knows what I want better than I know it.
I nod. Not until he tells me.
His teeth scrape my neck. It's just hard enough to hurt. "Hands at your sides."