I rub my legs together at the thought. Blake is no angel; his plans don’t involve dinner and a movie. It’s perfectly okay with me because I want it just as much as he does.
Before he walks back out, he leans over me, tenderly kissing my forehead. “Just put your robe on,” he says. “You won’t be wearing it long.”
It’s like the first time. He’s a different person. I’m not the woman he first walked in on in this apartment all those months ago. I let my skin soak in the relaxing water for a few more minutes, enjoying the rest of my wine before stepping into my robe.
The kitchen smells amazing—a hint of sautéed peppers and garlic fills the air. “What did you make? It smells delicious.”
He startles, spinning to face me with a spatula in one hand. “A chicken pasta dish. I didn’t follow a recipe, but my taste buds are impressed.”
I grin, taking a seat at the candle-lit table. I have no idea where this Blake came from, but I like him.
“Would you like another glass of wine?” he asks, setting two plates of pasta on the table.
“I should probably eat something before I have any more of that. I’d hate to fall asleep on you.”
“You’re always welcome to fall asleep on me,” he says as he takes the seat across from me.
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
He shrugs. “I wanted to.”
My taste buds do a happy dance after I take my first bite. I don’t think I cooked an actual meal the whole time he was gone. I either ate snacks here and there or take-out. “Where did you learn to cook?”
He stops chewing, looking straight into my eyes. “I was married once.”
Honesty … I like that.
“Did you do all the cooking?”
“Most of the time, if I wanted to eat, I had to,” he says sadly, picking his fork back up.
“I can cook,” I offer. I don’t, but I can. I am a small town Mid-western girl after all.
“Does it always come in a Styrofoam container?” he asks, doing his best not to laugh.
“For a minute, I was thinking that a few months away made you nicer.”
“Somewhere under the asshole is a layer of nice. It’s hard to get to, but it’s possible … especially for you.”
I’ll keep peeling those layers away then.
We eat in silence mostly, stealing glances across the table from time to time. When his eyes catch mine, he does this little thing with his lips where one side curls up. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not go over and kiss him; I know where that would lead.
My plate is almost clear when I push it away. As good as it was, my stomach can’t hold anymore. “Done?” Blake asks, reaching across the table for my plate.
“I can’t eat anymore.”
He clears the table, rinsing the plates in the sink. I can only stare. Perfection comes in faded blue jeans and a fitted white t-shirt.
“Did you save room for dessert?” he asks, coming around the counter.
I shake my head. There’s no way in hell anything else is going to fit in this belly.
“I think you did.” His voice is lower. I feel him everywhere, and he isn’t even touching me.
He shifts my chair, so I’m facing him, and kneels in front of me. Closing my eyes, I wait for what he does next. I trust him wholeheartedly with my desires … he’s never let me down there. His fingers work the tie on my robe. Once it’s loose, he pulls the sides back, completely exposing me.
The old memories flood back.
The way he touched every inch of my body.
The way he slowly made his way into my heart.
“You define sexy,” he says softly, circling his palms against my nipples. I hold his head in my hands, allowing his mouth to worship my breasts. He’s the master. I’m the puppet. There’s not much he couldn’t get me to do.
I ache for him … not having him inside me is misery. Lowering my hands to the back of his shirt, I attempt to pull it over his head. He grips my arms, putting them back at my side. “I control this tonight. I want to make you feel like you’ve never felt before … to erase every memory of him.”
His lips appreciate the skin around my belly button before slipping down further. He’s so close to where I’ve craved his touch. So close. Before the craving is satisfied, his cheek comes to rest on my thigh, his sapphire eyes finding mine. “I want to do even better than erase. I want to remind you why I’m the best you ever had even if you can’t forget him.”
I realized that when he kissed me last night. What he’s going to make my body feel tonight will just etch it in stone.
He drags his lower lip between the inside of my thigh. His calloused hands grip my knees, spreading my legs to give him better access. He kisses my core then pulls back to look at me.
Standing, he holds his hand out. “Up.”
There’s this glimmer in his eyes—bright and playful. He’s enjoying the slow burn. Maybe I’ll come to appreciate it, too, but right now, I just want him to dull the ache—relieve the pressure I feel.
When I’m on my feet, he turns me until my back is flush with his body, hugging me around the waist as he walks us to his bedroom. He buries his nose in my hair. “You smell exactly like I remember. You don’t know how hard I tried to forget, but I can’t forget the unforgettable.”
The door opens to more candles and rose petals. I have to look back just to verify this is really my Blake. “Just because I’ve never done this before doesn’t mean I don’t know how,” he says, kissing my cheek.
“I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
His palms trail back up over my breasts circling once then settling on my shoulders. With each caress he ignites something in me. Then, he’s standing in front of me, not touching, just exploring with his eyes. I wouldn’t have been okay with this before Blake—being unclothed while someone examines every inch of me.
He peels his shirt off then unfastens his jeans, stripping himself bare in front of me. His skin doesn’t graze mine, but yet I sense him everywhere.
“Does it hurt when I’m not touching you?” he asks, his voice shows heartbreaking emotion.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Where?”
Reaching for his hand, I place it at the center of my chest. That’s where it aches the most.
“Where do you want me first, Lemon Drop?”
“Kiss me.”
His lips mark mine slowly, his forehead pressing to mine. “Now it’s my turn,” he says, lifting me in his arms. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, letting the journey take me.
My back falls on the bed of rose petals. Blake stretches out over me, propping his head up with his elbow. “I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping tonight.”
This is worth twelve cups of coffee in the morning, I think to myself.
His touch is agile at first—subtle kisses, soft caresses, and appreciative glances. My love for him only amplifies, but the words still remain unsaid.
I want him to ravish me.
I want him to push me to the edge.
I want his rebellious love.
Minutes pass, or maybe hours. I’m gasping for air when he finally pulls his mouth away.
I feel him at my entrance, lifting my hips to beg for more … to beg for everything he can give me. I accept him slowly, enjoying the fullness as he goes deeper.
“You feel so fucking good wrapped around me. This was made for me … only me,” he groans, reaching his fingers between my legs. His fingertips circle my skin, and with all the teasing he’s already put my body through, I’m only seconds away from pulsing around him.
Then he pulls his hand away, punishing me once more. “Blake, I need to come. Please.”
He presses his hips to mine, slowly rocking back and forth. The friction he creates is perfection. The tension builds as he works his way in and out. I moan, digging my nails into his back. His pace quickens as he burrows even deeper. He’s carnal, biting down on my collarbone as the first wave of fireworks sweep through my body.