Shiver

The friction inside me built until I thought I’d burst into a million pieces. My release was so, so agonizingly close. I felt my pussy tighten and flutter around his fingers.

He growled. “That’s it, baby. That’s what I want. Give it to me. Come all over my hand.” He ground his palm a little harder over my clit, and I imploded. His mouth closed over mine, swallowing every moan and whimper.

Shaking and panting, I kept my eyes shut as he dabbed light kisses on my face … as if gentling me.

He smoothed my hair out of my face. “You okay?” At my nod, he said, “Good. Now, let’s get back to what we were talking about. The middle …”

Did it look like I was capable of intelligent conversation right then? “Are you going to move your hand?”

The fingers inside me swirled. “No.”

It seemed like a message; that he was letting me know he’d release me when he was good and ready, not before. But my head was still spinning from the after-effects of my orgasm, so I couldn’t quite reason it out.

“I think we can make this work for both of us.”

I felt my brows draw together. “How?”

“What time do you finish work tonight?”

“I don’t work weekends.” Not at the bar, anyway.

“I’ll be here at seven to pick you up.” He slowly pulled his fingers out of me, his mouth quirking in satisfaction when my pussy clenched around them, trying to keep them. He then slipped his hand out of my panties and righted my clothes. “Be ready.”

“To go where?”

“I’ll tell you at seven.”

“At least give me a hint so I know what to wear.”

“Wear whatever you’d wear to a night out clubbing.” He kissed me again, his tongue licking into my mouth, and then he was gone. And I was alone. I scrubbed a shaky hand down my face. Damn it, what the hell had just happened?

I’d had my mental balance finger-fucked out of me—that was what happened.

I wasn’t gonna lie, I’d never come that fast. Then again, I’d never had someone take over that way before. He hadn’t coaxed, tempted, or teased. Hadn’t been careful or hesitant, waiting to see if I’d be receptive. He’d touched me like it was his right, sure and confident. Practically demanded the response he’d wanted. And I knew that was part of why I’d come so hard and fast. Blake Mercier wasn’t a guy who needed direction or assurance or who asked for permission. I couldn’t help but like that.

I also couldn’t help being annoyed at myself for liking that he took over. But I decided not to give myself a hard time about it. Instead, I’d put the whole thing out of my mind. I’d dive into my book.

After tidying Cade’s mess, I took a long shower and then dressed in my sweats. Settling on the couch with my laptop, I re-read the chapter I’d worked on the day before. And then I let myself fall into the book. Let everything else disappear as I immersed myself in that world. Fleshed out the chapter by adding more detail and emotion, and I made some editions here and there. I then did the same to the next chapter. And the next chapter. And the—

At the sound of a cell phone chiming, I surfaced to find that three hours had passed. I grabbed my cell from the table and saw that it was Sarah. “Hello,” I answered.

“So … I just talked to Cade,” said Sarah. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

I sighed. Damn Cade and his big mouth. “Blake came to return my earring.”

“And? Don’t blow me off, Kensey, there’s no way the guy went to your apartment first thing in the morning over an earring. And there’s no way he’d give Cade a death glare unless there’s something more to it.”

I scratched my head. “He might have, um, given me a hell of an orgasm with his fingers.”

“What? No way! That is truly awesome news.”

“Awesome?”

“I told you, I like the guy. Plus, it’s about damn time that something other than your vibrator brought you to orgasm. What now? Tell me you’re seeing him again.”

“We’re going out later.”

“On a date?” The question rung with excitement.

“No. Blake doesn’t date—not even casually. He knows I’m not interested in a one-night stand or anything impersonal. He thinks there’s a way he can meet me in the middle. He’s going to enlighten me later.”

“Really? I’m intrigued. Where’s he taking you?”

“I don’t know. He said to wear whatever I’d wear to go clubbing.”

“Clubbing? Hmm. Wear the black lacy, diamante dress and the lace-up strappy high heels—the outfit goes great with your wrist cuff tattoos.” There was muttering in the background, and Sarah huffed. “Reed needs me. Call me in the morning, I want to hear everything.”

“Will do.”

“Make sure you don’t lose track of time while you’re working,” she warned before hanging up.

But I lost track of time. It was much later, after having lunch and working for a few more hours, that I realized I was running late. On the upside, the second draft of my book was done. But it was no easy feat to shower, primp, apply makeup, dry my hair, and then slip on my clothes before seven pm finally made its way around.

I was just tossing my phone, keys, cash, and lipstick into my little purse when a knock sounded at the door. Straightening my shoulders, I blew out a breath and looked out the peephole. Blake. Purse in hand, I opened the door. My breath caught in my throat. Fuck, the guy looked edible in his dark cobalt blue shirt and black slacks. I wasn’t sure whether it was his sensual cologne or the pheromones he was giving off, but it was enough for a girl to feel drunk.

Eyes intense, he moved toward me, pushing into my personal space. “You’re ready. Let me get a good look at you.” Hand smoothing down my back to rest on my ass, he dropped his voice into bedroom territory as he said, “Beautiful. Truly fucking beautiful.”

My cheeks pinkened. “Um, thanks.”

He tucked his face into the crook of my neck. “Hmm. You smell good.”

Damn, he was good at this. “So do you.”

He lifted his head. “You have everything you need?”

I nodded. “Where are we going?”

“The Vault.”

I supposed I should have expected him to take me to one of his own clubs. “Okay, let me just lock up.” Minutes later, we were in his Maserati, en route to the Vault. “I take it you don’t plan on drinking, considering you’re driving.”

“I don’t drink much,” said Blake. “If need be, I can call Rossi to pick us up later.”

Silence then fell between us. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. But it was thoughtful. Weighted. The air pulsed with anticipation. And I just had to say … “I don’t understand how you think we can find a way to—”

“You’ll understand soon.” His hand gently squeezed my thigh. “Just wait.”

Sometime later, we finally arrived at the Vault. If it weren’t for the fact that only paying members could enter, I suspected that there would be a long line of people waiting to get inside. Blake didn’t park in the lot. He drove to the attached private indoor garage, punched a code into a keypad, and then drove inside. My heart began to beat that little bit faster. What I hadn’t told Blake was that the attempted mugging two years ago had happened in a parking garage. The low roofs, narrow lanes, and endless rows of cars had never bothered me before. Now, it all made me feel squashed and trapped. Vulnerable.