"I disagree." He pulls me onto his lap. Wraps his arms around my waist. "I'll get your mind off this."
"You can't appease me with sex," I say. "Is that the only way you can deal with people's emotions—pay them off or fuck them?"
His eyes flare with something I can't place. He releases his grip. Instead of feeling relieved, I feel cold. Empty. This is comforting. Maybe not in the way he means it to be, but it's comforting all the same.
"I know what you're going through," he says. "My father wasn't just an asshole who drank himself to death. He was an angry guy who took out his frustration on my mother."
"Oh." My heart sinks. Poor Meryl. She hasn't had it easy.
"Until I was old enough to step in, then he took it out on me." He looks at me. Same steady gaze but there's a vulnerability in his voice. "I was fourteen when he died. I didn't feel anything except relief. The extra responsibility was nothing compared to how much I hated him."
I try to stay calm. How can Blake be so blasé about his father being abusive? It was a long time ago, sure, but time can't heal all wounds. That must hurt, that he wasn't able to protect his sister, his mother, himself.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"It was no loss."
"But I'm sorry you went through that. Love shouldn't hurt. Not like that."
He takes my hand. "It made me stronger. You lost parents who loved you. You lost something real. But it made you stronger."
I shake my head. "I'm not strong."
"You are."
A tear rolls down my cheek. Mom. Dad. It's been so long. I miss them so much. I never let myself miss them. I never let myself grieve the life I could have had. It's all so unfair. I try to convince myself that life is unfair. That's just how it is.
But that doesn't make it hurt less.
Blake wipes the tear from my eye. I look up at him, but he's still so inscrutable.
"I'm sorry you went through that," I say. "It's awful."
"I was used to being surrounded by that kind of misery—the yelling, the hitting, the hatred. Meryl and Orson drank heavily. It gave her courage and it made him angry. When he threatened to hit her, she'd stare back at him and call him a coward. She'd dare him to do it." He looks out the window at the clear white sky. There's something in his eyes, like he admires Meryl's courage.
"She was brave," I say.
"Yes, but not strategic. When I stepped in, I did the same thing. I had to make him angry at me so he'd hit me instead of her. The asshole didn't even care who he hurt as long as he hurt someone."
I squeeze his hand. "You all deserved better."
"I didn't do enough to protect her or Fiona. I could have called the police. After he hit her, after he got in his car drunk. Hell, I could have cut the brake lines. I could have stopped him for good."
I swallow hard. His dad died in a car crash. But that can't be possible...
"I didn't," Blake says like he can read my mind. "I wish I had. It would have spared us a lot of suffering."
"That's a hell of a choice for a fourteen-year-old to make."
He shakes his head. His expression softens. There's a vulnerability in his eyes. I don't have to ask. I know he's never told anyone else this. I can feel it.
I wrap my arms around Blake. He holds me back, shifting so our bodies are pressed together. I breathe deeply, willing my touch to take his pain away. It's not much, but it's something.
"I have a perfect distraction," he says.
I wipe my eyes, willing my feelings back into the box where I usually stuff them.
"But we can stay here if you want."
"I don't." I take his hand and rise to my feet, careful not to kick over the drink. "Is it sex?"
He laughs. Actually laughs. God, it really is a nice laugh. He eyes crinkle. And he has a dimple. The cutest dimple I've ever seen.
He shakes his head.
"You have a beautiful smile," I say. "But you never smile."
He raises his eyebrows, smiling wide. I laugh and a bit of the tension building inside me eases. The loss still hurts, but it's a hurt I can live with.
This is a decision I can live with.
I take Blake's hand and follow him out of the room.
***
The ROOF ACCESS door is locked. The building is forty-something stories. The roof isn't the safest place to hang out.
Of course, Blake has a key. He squeezes my hand and leads me onto the roof. The view around us is amazing. We're right in the middle of downtown, surrounded by skyscrapers. They look close enough to touch, but attempting such a thing would mean quite the fall.
Dark, grey clouds loom around us. It's colder than it was this afternoon, but it's not seeping into my veins. If anything, I'm hot.
Holy crap. There's a pool. It glows with an aqua sheen, a spot of brightness against the cloudy sky.
Light dances off the pool. It casts strange lines over Blake's face. He's watching me, studying my reaction. The same thing he always does.
"No one else has access to the roof," he says.
"So this is your private pool?"
"More or less."
He drops his keys on a little patio table. The guy maintains a pool on the roof of a damn skyscraper just for kicks. Rich people really know how to spend.
"Do you ever use it?" I ask.
"When I need to think." He looks at the view. "It's a good spot."
"And how often is that?"
He smiles. Actually smiles. My heart goes into overdrive. It's like I'm a schoolgirl with a crush. Blake is smiling at me. Smiling. At. Me.
We're going to get married, and I'm atwitter over a smile. Fantastic.
"Your point is taken," he says.
"So I was right? You admit it."
Laugh. He laughs. That's twice in one hour. A record of some kind.
He nods. "You getting in?"
"After you."
Blake holds my gaze as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. My jaw drops ever so slightly. His body is a work of art, and it's somehow even better under the dancing reflection of the pool. There's no way I rejected his sexual advance mere minutes ago. That's impossible.
He slides out of his jeans. I sigh. Actually sigh. His thighs are damn muscular. Perfect lines. Perfect. I've been around him naked before, but I've never had such a good look.
He. Is. Perfect.
I want to draw him from every possible angle. I want to capture every nuance of his body with my pencil.
"You look warm," he says.
"I'm fine."
He moves towards me. Unbuttons my coat and slides it off my shoulders. I shiver but I'm not cold. It's his proximity. It's him being so close to me.
I pull my sweater over my head. Just a t-shirt and jeans now. Like he was wearing moments ago.
I reach for his boxers. Blake shakes his head. He drops to his knees and unzips my boots. I step out of them, and he pulls off my socks one by one. His fingertips trail over the seam of my jeans, the inside of my left leg. Over my calf, my knee, my inner thigh. And then between my legs.
Wow. Wow. Wow.
He follows the line all the way to the button of my jeans. In a single flick of his wrist, he unbuttons and unzips me.
The damn things are skinny jeans. They don't budge. He pushes them down my hips, pushing my panties with them. I shimmy them to my thighs. Still, they're stuck.
Blake drops back to his knees. He pulls my jeans to my feet. I step out of them one by one. He rises slowly until he's all the way upright.
He's a few inches away. Close enough we could kiss. Touch. Make love. Silly me, it's not making love with Blake. It's fucking. He fucks. I send the word love through a shredder and stuff it some place where it can't get to me. No love here. No way in hell.
I step back, undo my bra, and let it drop to the ground. I turn away, but I can feel Blake's gaze on me. Heat rushes through my body, but I'm aware how cold it is out here. I take two steps towards the pool and dip a toe. The water is warm. And the way it's all li
t up is damn inviting.
Blake slides out of his boxers. Holy crap. It was only a day ago I saw him naked, but somehow he's even better than I remembered. I avert my gaze to keep from blushing. The guy is perfect and intense and it knocks me off balance completely.
"Are you waiting for something?" he asks.
I shake my head. Here goes nothing. I jump into the pool. It feels cold for a moment. The hairs on my neck stand up. I dunk my head. Under water, everything is blurry. This mess of blue-white.
The water rocks. There's a splash above me. Blake. He's in the pool with me.
I push back to the surface. He's five feet away, water dripping off his perfect shoulders.
He moves closer. "Distracted?"
I nod. "Thanks for listening before. And for talking... I almost believed you were my supportive fiancé." My gaze fixes on the water beneath me. There's nothing like that between us. It's all fake. A lie. The guy listens because he's not an asshole. But that's all there is to it.
His fingertips brush my chin, the same gesture he was making in his office. I look up at him, holding his gaze for a moment. He's as intense as ever, but that same softness is there. The same sweetness is there.
My lungs work extra hard to find their next breath. So much is going on around me. I'm in another oasis of calm. It's supposed to be the eye of the storm, but I feel a lot more like the storm.
"I do care about you," he says.
"Yeah, I know we're not—well, I'm not sure what we are, but we're not lovers."
"I'll do anything I can to support you."
"What more could I ask for in a husband?" My voice cracks. I dive back under the water. Eyes open. The chlorine stings. I can just make out the edges of Blake's body. They're blurry but they're still perfect.
I push off the concrete and glide towards the deep end. When I come up for air, Blake is staring at me. Fixed on me. He moves closer. Closer. Closer.
His wet hair is slicked back. It suits him, really, but so far I've never seen anything that doesn't suit him.
"Kat." His voice is sweet.
"I'm fine, thanks. Just thinking how lucky I am marrying such a supportive guy as a ruse. Luckiest girl in the world, really."
He studies me, deciding if he believes me. He nods like he does.
"You've never been in love," I say.
"Never."
"Nothing?"
"Never anything more than lust."
"Yeah, of course." I squeeze water from my hair. "I was just curious. I mean, I've never been in love either. I want to, one day, but it's not really a priority now. I'll have to think about school and a career." I shrug my shoulders and shake my head dry. "Do you think it's because of your parents? That what they had was love taking an ugly turn?"
"I don't bother dwelling on the why." He runs a hand through my hair. "I've never seen love go any other way. Look at Fiona and Trey. They're miserable."
"My parents were in love. They were happy."
"How do you know for sure?" he asks.
"Because I do. Love isn't something you know. It's something you feel." My heart speeds up. My breath follows suit. "And it feels amazing. Warm and comfortable and perfect."
"You said you've never been in love."
Oh, yeah. I did say that. And it's true. My cheeks flush. I'm hot all over again. I can feel Blake's stare, and it makes me feel even more naked. "Other kinds of love. Like family. Friends."
His eyes stay fixed on mine. There's something on the tip of his tongue, I can tell, but he doesn't say anything.
I dive under the surface and do a somersault. There is something warm and comfortable about the water. It's everywhere, all around me. Maybe I can explain it to Blake this way. This is what love feels like. You're swallowed whole, but you know you're safe. You know it's going to be okay.
Not that I'm familiar with the concept.
Not that I'm falling in love with someone.
Not anything like that.
Chapter Sixteen
We spend twenty minutes swimming around the pool. Clouds get dark and grey. A drizzle turns into a downpour. I ignore Blake's suggestion we leave. We're already in the pool. Rain isn't going to hurt us.
The sky flashes white. Lightening. Thunder booms a few seconds later. Okay, no more playing around. I don't need to be told that a pool on top of steel tower is a bad place to hang out during a thunderstorm.
Still, Blake drags me out of the pool. He sends me into the staircase naked and gathers our clothes alone. He's trying to protect me, but I'd rather share the risk of electrocution. I'd rather we work like an actual team.
The roof door pulls open and Blake steps inside. No longer naked, sadly. He's wearing his boxers. He pulls my sweater over my head. I'm dripping wet, and it soaks up the water like some kind of fast-acting towel. Not so much help in warming up. Not so much help in clothing me. I'm still bottomless.
I take the stairs one at a time, my hand firm around the railing. Everything is wet and slippery. It gives me all sorts of ideas.
I push at the door to the penthouse floor. Locked. Of course it's locked. Everything about Blake is impenetrable, even his damn company. He positions himself behind me, his chest pressed against my back. He's wet and smooth and his body still feels damn good, even with my sweater and his boxers in the way.
He slides his hand over my mine. His breath is so warm on my neck. His body is so hard against mine. I try to calm my nerves. We're not going to have sex in this stairwell. It's way too... well, wet.
Blake offers me my panties. "I don't want you caught on tape. Unless..." He raises an eyebrow.
I blush as I pull on my underwear. "No, that's okay."
He unlocks the door and presses it open. I step inside gratefully. It's not particularly warm in here. The heat is set to some kind of cave-like temperature. Goosebumps spread on my arms. My nipples go hard. Yes, I'll blame that on the temperature. That absolutely checks out.
"Hungry yet?" he asks.
"I could eat." I'd rather fill another one of my needs, but I could eat.
He takes my hand and leads me to a break area. It's as sleek and modern as the rest of the office. There's a thick white table, a kitchenette with stainless steel appliances, and a rectangular black couch. It would look great as the background of a panel, especially with the cloudy window. I imagine the shading. The way it could fall over Blake, keeping him in the shadows. A bit of an obvious metaphor—the unknowable guy stepping out into the light—but it works.
Thankfully, there's plenty of light on Blake. It's the kind of beautiful soft light that comes with cloudy days. My heart races. He looks damn good in those boxers.
Blake drops our clothes on the table. He kneels in front of a cabinet and pulls something out. A blanket. "We'll have to share." He hands it to me then points to the ceiling. "There are no cameras in this room if you want to change."
Change, right, he must be referring to changing. Not about us having sex here. Potentially. I shake my head, trying to put my thoughts back in line. No good. I'm filled with images of Blake and me on the table, the couch, the floor.
Breathe, dammit. Breathe. There is no sense in wearing wet clothes. I pull my sweater over my head and kick my panties to the floor. The blanket is a soft wool. It's warm and comfortable. Probably here for poor employees who work so late they have to spend the night.
Blake fills a coffee maker with water. "What do you want to drink?"
"Hot chocolate."
"Really?"
"You got a problem with hot chocolate?" I put my hand on my hip, but the gesture is impossible under the blanket.
Blake turns to me, taking in my attempt at a confident, badass look. His lips curl into a smile. Then, oh God, it's happening again.
He laughs.
My whole body fills with warmth. It's truly wrong how good his laugh makes me feel.
"Hot chocolate it is." He grabs mugs from the counter.
I take a seat on the couch, willing my body to relax.
But it's not happening. There's still this light feeling in my stomach. Nerves, I guess. I pull the blanket over my head, blocking out the light, hiding my expression. It's a quick moment away from the microscope. There's no getting away from it lately. Either Blake and I are out playing pretend, or we're alone, and he's the one studying my reactions.
"You're not good at sharing, are you?" he asks.
I peek my head out of the blanket. He's standing in front of the couch, a mug in each hand. I shake my head. I'm perfectly good at sharing some things. But not my feelings. Not my history. Certainly not my heart.
With the blanket, well, I'll do my best.
He hands me a mug. I take it, shifting the blanket so about half is free. Blake sits next to me on the couch. Still in his boxers. He wraps the blanket around his waist.
My eyes do not obey my commands. They fix on Blake's shoulders, chest, and stomach. He's still wet, and it only highlights the hard lines of his body. My urge to draw him builds. Realism was never my style, but it would be the only way to capture how damn beautiful he is. A cartoon version of Blake could never compare.
Hell, a drawing could never compare.
Nothing compares.
Eyes closed. Okay. At least I'm not gawking at him. I direct my attention to the windows. The rain is really coming down. It's grey and ugly. Perfect fit for my mood.
"Kat?"
"Yeah?" I make eye contact. Geeze, those are nice, too. So intense. So deep.
"You okay?"
"Fine. Great." I sip my cocoa. Stuff out of a packet. A little too hot. Not at all what I actually want in my mouth.
My cheeks flush. I need to get my thoughts under control. I set my cocoa on the floor, out of reach of our dangling feet. Blake watches me the way he always does. He'd make a great scientist. Or a judge. There's no telling what's going on behind those gorgeous eyes.
He offers his mug of coffee. I nod and take a sip. It's black. Rich. Faint taste of vanilla. This is the flavor on his lips. Those are gorgeous, too.
I turn my gaze back to the windows. There's something about the rain. It feels right. "I should get home soon."
"It's pouring."
"It's always pouring this time of year." I shift and the blanket slips off my shoulders, all the way to my waist. The air is cool against my chest, but my body is still damn warm. "I'm sure you have more work to do. I don't want to impose."
The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 15
