by Grace James
“Sure it is.”
“No. Wrong. Hiking is…walking a long way on…”
He leant closer to me and raised one eyebrow. “A mountain?”
“…uneven ground…”
“Like a fucking mountain.” He leant back again and did a kind of gangsta-wrist-flick. “BOOM.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, did you just ‘boom’ me?!”
“I just beat you with logic, college girl, so yeah. BOOM.”
I’d taken a sip of my drink, but I couldn’t stop my laughter from escaping and I ended up snorting latte out of my nose.
Blake started to choke on his own drink because he was laughing so hard at my complete mortification.
It took us a loooong time to calm down from that one. It was one of those situations where, when you finally think that you have your laughter under control and can look the other person in the eye without losing it, one glance at them sets you off again. We must have been hysterical for at least ten minutes all told.
When we eventually got over it, we just sat and took in the view for a while in silence, sipping our lattes.
The scenery was dramatic, yet peaceful. Cavernous blue skies stretching above jagged, soaring mountains that were busting up through a blanket of ancient, majestic trees.
It made me feel small and insignificant, like a grain of sand on the beach. It brought with it an awareness that nothing I ever do, no decision I ever make and no action I ever take will have the slightest effect on the vista of practically everlasting beauty in front of me.
I knew that some people would find thoughts like that depressing.
But I didn’t, I found it oddly comforting.
“It’s so beautiful out here.” I murmured.
“Sure is,” Blake agreed.
“Do you come here a lot?” I asked.
“Yeah, I guess. I used to come out here all the time as a kid, then after my mom died my dad would never come. When I left home I took the keys.” He smiled very faintly. “I actually lived up here for a little while after that, didn’t have any place else to go. Now I just come up here when I feel like I wanna disappear for a while.”
“Your dad has never been back?”
“Nah, I doubt he even knows I took the keys.”
“What was she like, your mom?” I asked tentatively.
It took a moment for him to answer. “Fun. Silly really, I guess. She could never stay serious for long. Really creative. She was a musician, she could play anything, but she mainly played the piano.”
“Did she teach you to play?”
“Yeah, the piano was the first thing I learned. I was really little, five maybe.”
I tried to picture a five year old Blake sitting on a piano stool next to his mother – I couldn’t quite get there. “It sounds like you take after her, then.”
He nodded and his eyes clouded over. I knew that his mind had gone elsewhere and I turned my attention back to the view, allowing him time with his memories.
“What are your parents like?” he asked after a while.
I thought for a couple of seconds. “Um, really normal, I guess. So normal that there’s not a lot to tell. They got married after graduation and had my sister and me. They’re both teachers.” I shrugged. “And that’s pretty much it.”
“You get along with them okay?”
“Yeah. I have a lot in common with my dad. He’s really into music but he’s like me, if you handed him a guitar he wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
“Did he take you to shows growing up?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, he used to take me and Jo –”
“Your sister, right?”
“Yeah. As she got older she was always busy with her friends, and then she went away to college, so he just used to take me. I remember going to see Counting Crows when I was about twelve, I can’t remember where we saw them but it was huge, so it must have been a stadium. We were standing right at the front through both of the opening bands and then, right when Counting Crows were about to come on I was like ‘Dad, I really need to pee!’” I chuckled at the memory. “I thought he was going to cry with disappointment but he took me anyway, and then when we got back inside we couldn’t get anywhere near the front, so he put me on his shoulders so that I could see. I guess he couldn’t see much though…” I shook my head. “I haven’t thought about that in ages.”
“He sounds like a good dad,” Blake said quietly.
I looked at him, expecting to see some kind of bitterness on his face, but there was none, he just looked interested.
“He is. I really should call him more,” I said a little guiltily.
Blake laughed. “Yeah, you probably should.”
We walked a little further before we headed back to the cabin; when we got there we sat on the deck and drank sodas and talked and talked and talked. Since the first time we had really had a proper conversation – just the two of us, outside Filthy Joe’s – we had gotten along on some level, underneath all of the sarcasm and word play. Our conversation was usually easy, and this was no exception. In fact, it was better, because there was no longer an elephant in the room.
He liked me.
I liked him.
And we didn’t have to hide it anymore.
By the time we retreated into the cabin to fix dinner, I felt like I knew him a million times better and any pretense I had managed to maintain about the way I felt about him was quickly starting to crumble.
But Blake stayed true to his word and he never once tried to get closer to me physically. Even when – during our ‘hike’ back to the cabin – I stumbled on a rock and he had to shoot out an arm to catch me, he released me as soon as I was steady on my feet.
And I was starting to wish that I’d never made him make that damn promise.
86
That evening, Blake cooked a great dinner – yes, I was not expecting that either.
I perched on the kitchen table, glass of wine in hand, and watched as he whipped up a stir fry. My eyes were drawn to his arms as he chopped the vegetables. He was wearing an ancient Metallica tee and I had a perfect view of his inked arms – I got lost in the ripple and movement of his muscles and sinews as he worked.
The noodles were bubbling steadily on the stove when he turned to me. He must have seen the lust on my face, because his eyes flared a little and he took a predatory step towards me before stopping short. It was as if he’d caught his body doing something his mind hadn’t approved.
“More wine?” He asked, a little gruffly.
I held out my glass. “Sure.”
His fingers brushed mine as he took the glass and sensation zinged up my arm, like a tiny electric shock. I bit my lip as he turned away to refill the glass and my eyes rested on his ass. It was rounded but not too big, just the perfect amount of male muscle, solid and –
He turned back around. “Here, Princess.” He handed the full glass back to me. “Could you pass the oil?” He pointed to the shopping bag, still half unpacked, behind me on the table. I grabbed the bottle of oil and passed it to him and watched as he drizzled some into the wok before throwing in all the vegetables and strips of finely cut pork.
“So, I didn’t know you could cook.”
He held the wok handle and tossed the contents of it into the air before catching them again perfectly in the sizzling pan. “I eat, stands to reason I can cook. No one else is gonna feed me.”
“I figured you ate a lot of takeout...and Cheetos.”
“Well, that too.” He grinned over his shoulder at me.
The food was delicious. We talked and laughed. Blake sunk two beers and I sipped at my wine. But the whole time I was so conscious of him, of his body less than two feet away. If he saw any signs of the desire welling up inside of me, he didn’t show it again. He was either completely unaffected or keeping a damn secure check on his control.
After we finished our main course, he presented me with a huge bowl of ice cream. “Strawberry, your f
avorite.”
“You have a pretty solid seduction routine going here.” I grinned mischievously. “Cute log cabin, amazing scenery, gorgeous food...does it always work?” I was trying to come off as playfully teasing. I epically failed.
He frowned. “Don’t do that.”
“What? I’m just curious how many women this little routine has worked on.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and when he spoke his voice was mocking. “You really wanna know? Sure you can handle it?”
I flushed. No, I was not at all sure but I said “Yes” anyway.
“Well, let’s see...at last count it was...” he trailed off and slowly waggled his head from side to side, as if he was counting. I started to feel a little bit like I was going to throw up – then his cold eyes snapped back to mine. “None.”
“None?!”
“I never brought anyone else here. The last time I wasn’t alone up here was ten years ago.” He shoved away from the table, grabbed our bowls and took them to the sink.
My face burned with shame.
I stared at his back as he washed our dishes. I felt awful. I had been trying to protect myself by goading him into admitting that I was one in a long line of log-cabin-conquests. I’d figured that then I would have another good reason to squash the burning desire I felt to touch him.
He’s still a man-whore. You’ve watched him work his way through too many women to mention, a voice whispered inside my head.
But the thing was, I knew there was more to him than that one, single facet of his life – and so I chose to ignore Cynical Amy, that bitch.
“I’m sorry.” I said to his back.
“Forget it,” he said gruffly.
I got up and went to his side. “No, Blake. That was petty and bitchy, I’m really sorry.”
He turned his head to look at me but kept his hands in the water. His face was unreadable as he studied me for a long moment. My stomach dropped. Then, before I could react, he flicked a handful of suds in my face.
I squealed.
Then he did it again with the other hand.
“Blake!” I shrieked, grabbing for the towel. He was laughing as I wiped my face. I swatted him with the towel, giggling in shock and relief. “I’m soaked!”
He raised one eyebrow. “Reeeally?”
Realization hit me. “No! Oh my God, NO!”
It was too late, he was already roaring with laughter. I blushed furiously and swatted him with the towel again, repeatedly, which only made him laugh harder. “Okay, okay, I won’t get you any wetter, I’m sorry!”
“Shut up!” I laughed.
After that, I helped him to wash and clear away the dinner things. Then we sat on the recliners and Blake turned on a radio that he’d pulled out of one of the kitchen cupboards. He tuned it to a Classic Rock station.
“Ten bucks says November Rain comes on in the next half hour,” he grinned at me.
“I’ll take that bet and bet you ten bucks Bed of Roses comes on in the next hour.”
“Done.”
He won.
Asshole.
We listened to the radio and talked some more but when it got to around ten thirty I couldn’t stifle a huge yawn.
“Sleepy, Princess?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”
He nodded to my overnight bag, which he had set at the foot of the bed earlier. “Hope you brought some cute PJs.”
“Why? You a sucker for punishment?” I teased.
He snorted a laugh, nearly choking on his beer. “Damn, Princess, you can be a real bitch, y’know that?”
I smiled impishly and hopped off of the recliner. “Yep. You shouldn’t have given me wine.” I grabbed my bag and disappeared into the bathroom. I changed into a tank top and a pair of shorts, before washing my face free of make-up.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Blake had slung his clothes on to his recliner and was wearing only a pair of dark grey sweats slung low on his hips.
My God, he was gorgeous.
The tattoos that I already mentioned on his arms? Well, they didn’t stop there. His muscular chest and shoulders were a canvass of intricate images and symbols. I was aching to touch them, to trace my fingers over them. He had just the right amount of dark hair on his chest and lower stomach, leading down into the top of his sweats. His washboard abs were free from ink and I could see the grooves between his muscles. Each muscle looked like it had been shaded around the edges, like the tattooist had just carried on and traced the delves between each muscle.
He was cut.
“My face is up here, Princess,” Blake said. His tone was amused and his mouth was curved in a smug smirk, but when I looked into his eyes I saw a desire to match my own.
My breath hitched.
I half expected him to move closer. Hell, I wanted him to come closer. I wanted to feel his massive, hard body against mine. I wanted his hands on me...but he didn’t budge.
“You take the bed, I’ll sleep here.” He gestured to the couch, there were a couple of blankets piled on top of it.
“You can’t sleep there all night,” I said.
“I’ll be fine –”
“Just share the bed with me,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “It’s silly you sleeping on that tiny couch when the bed is big enough for both of us.”
He looked at me as though he were trying to solve a puzzle. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I grinned at him. “As long as you don’t steal all the covers.”
He grinned back. “Okay.”
He flicked off the lights and the cabin descended into darkness but, as my eyes adjusted, I could make out more. The moon was full and bright and it’s light sliced through the half drawn drapes.
We climbed into bed. I lay on my side facing him. I couldn’t help it, I wanted to look at him. He lay on his back and he seemed to be about as far away from me as he could get without falling out of the bed.
I studied his profile in the moonlight, as I had done in the parking lot out back of Filthy Joe’s all those months ago, and as I had done in Hayley’s backyard the night before, right before he kissed me. I remember thinking that the moonlight would always remind me of Blake.
I drank in his strong jaw, peppered with stubble; I remembered how it had felt to have it scrub lightly against my face as he kissed me. I wanted him to kiss me again sooo badly.
Damn it, is he REALLY not going make a move?
A sigh of frustration escaped my lips before I could stop it. I saw his jaw clench and his eyes squeeze shut.
I waited.
I held my breath.
But he didn’t move.
I willed myself to make the first move, to reach out and touch him, to slide my body alongside his...but I just couldn’t do it.
Abruptly, he rose from the bed and walked quickly to the cabin door; he stepped outside and shut the door behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone in the bed.
87
I lay there for a few moments, staring at the closed door. I knew – I thought – he wanted me like I wanted him. I was burning up with desire. I was wet just from the thought of him touching me…but he had promised he wouldn’t unless I wanted him to. And if there was one thing I was beginning to learn about Blake it was that he was a man of his word. It was a quality that I never would have attributed to him when I had first met him; I wouldn’t have thought him capable of honesty or respect or anything honorable. But now I knew differently.
I also knew that I would have to make the first move. If I wanted him – and I did, more than anything – then I would have to be the one to make it happen. He had given me that power.
I threw back the comforter and followed him out of the cabin. I found him standing on the deck, leaning forward with both hands braced on the wooden railing.
I padded towards him on bare feet. “Blake?”
“Go back inside.” His voice was gravelly.
“Are you going to come back i
nside, too?” I asked softly.
“Later.”
“It’s cold out here.”
“Yeah. Go inside, I won’t be long.”
I folded my arms across my chest as the chill air sent goose bumps spreading across my skin. “I wish you would come back inside with me,” I said, my voice little more than a whisper.
He turned slowly to face me. The moonlight was behind him and I couldn’t see the expression on his face. “What else do you wish?”
I bit my lip, unsure if I could actually say it. I shifted nervously from foot to foot. “I – I wish you would...” I trailed off.
“You’re gonna have to say it, Princess.”
I licked my lips slowly and I swear I heard him growl. “I want – I want you, Blake…”
Before my mind had even registered that he had moved, his lips crashed into mine as his arms locked around me like iron, hard and strong, crushing me to him.
This time, he didn’t kiss me slow.
He didn’t kiss me gentle.
He didn’t give me chance to pull away.
He took.
His kiss was fierce and desperate, laced with a need and longing so strong it was like he was starving, like he needed to devour me to survive. When his tongue flicked across the seam of my lips, seeking entry, I opened my mouth for him immediately, surrendering myself to him completely. I felt a rush of moisture between my legs as his lips moved over mine and his tongue thrust into my mouth, entwining with mine. Dominating me. Possessing me.
I put my arms around his neck and buried my hands in his hair. It was so soft and silky it caught me by surprise.
His massive arms flexed and moved, one large hand roamed down my back and clutched my ass while the other fisted in my hair, forcing my face closer to him, pressing my mouth against his more fiercely.
Desire flooded my veins as we kissed, I ached for him so intensely that I moaned against his mouth.
Suddenly, he broke the kiss, pulling his lips away and resting his forehead against mine. My eyes flickered open and I saw his beautiful eyes fixed on me as he panted heavily. “Fuck,” he murmured thickly. “You have no idea...” he faltered and swallowed.
