“I didn’t come here so you’d have to cook for me, you know.” He ran a hand over his damp hair, but followed her into the apartment regardless.
“I like cooking for people, you know,” Jules joked back, falling into the rhythm of easy conversation as she re-locked her front door and led him down the hall toward her kitchen. “So now that we’ve established why you didn’t come here, do you want to tell me why you did?”
“I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier. This morning.”
Jules’s feet clattered to an ungraceful stop in the middle of the hallway, and she swung to face him. “It’s okay, Blake. The whole thing was my fault. I know I got carried away, but I meant what I said to your mother. You don’t have to worry about it happening again.”
“It wasn’t anybody’s fault, Jules. It happened because we both wanted it to.”
“Well, yes.” Her cheeks went thermonuclear at both the admission and the image still branded in her traitorous memory. “But your mother—”
“Respectfully,” Blake said, stepping toward her until they were close enough for her to inhale the scent of fresh soap on his skin. “I don’t care what my mother thinks about this.”
Jules smiled, although she’d never felt it less in her life. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. Because plenty of other people do.”
She turned toward the kitchen, desperate for the comfort of having food in her hands, and thankfully, Blake let her go. She padded to the work space in the center of the room, but rather than taking a seat at the counter by the breakfast nook, he hooked a palm under the back of one of the bar stools and brought it over to the island to sit across from her.
“So you have the night off, and you bake?” He pointed to the cookies piled high on the cooling rack between them, reaching in to help her pack them into a storage container.
“Guilty as charged. They’re not for me, though.” Jules slid a small stack of cookies over the smooth pine tabletop, a ribbon of satisfaction uncurling in her chest as Blake took them with eager hands. “What about you? What do you normally do on your nights off?”
“I don’t know. It’s been so long since I had one, I’ve kind of forgotten what to do with myself.”
“Ouch.” Her satisfaction multiplied as Blake polished off two cookies in as many bites, and she moved to gather some sandwich ingredients from the fridge. “And I thought I was a workaholic.”
“You probably are,” Blake teased. “I’m still the low man on the ER totem pole, that’s all. But I don’t really mind the long shifts.”
“I’m sure taking care of people is really rewarding, but isn’t it hard on you, too? You must see some awful stuff.”
Although his expression didn’t budge from his calm, cool demeanor, something slight rippled behind Blake’s eyes, and he set his last two cookies aside to help her assemble the sandwich fixings she’d placed on the island.
“I’m not going to lie. I’ve seen just about everything you can imagine, and more than a few things you should be thankful you can’t. But helping people when they need it most makes all the graveyard shifts and difficult cases worthwhile. It’s what…” He trailed off, and the ripple behind his stare grew. “It’s what I wanted for Jeremy when he died.”
“But he had that,” she said, confused. “The doctors here did everything they could for him.”
“I didn’t mean from other doctors. I meant from me.”
Jules’s head jerked up, understanding clapping her right in the sternum. “You feel guilty.”
“Not as much as I used to, but yeah. Sometimes.” Blake’s words were quiet, but his honesty tore through her as if he were screaming through a bullhorn. “He just got so sick, so fast. I wonder if, you know. If it had happened later, I’d have been able to help him more. Then he’d have had more time.”
“Blake.” Jules’s pulse pushed through her veins fast enough to make her dizzy, but she rounded the island to stand right in front of him anyway. “Look at me. Jeremy had been sick for a long time, and he got the very best care. There’s nothing anyone could have done to change what happened. Not even you.”
“I know.” Blake nodded, skimming a palm over the back of his neck. “I mean, logically, I understand that he was given every available treatment by all the best doctors. But I got to go on to become a doctor, to be healthy and have a life, and he didn’t. We had the same genetics. It just doesn’t seem fair.”
“That’s because it’s not.” The brash words popped right out of her, but she didn’t rein them in. “It’s not fair that Jeremy didn’t get to live past twenty, but it’s also not your fault. He wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for surviving. If anything, he’d want you to let loose and live extra because of it.”
Blake’s chin lifted in surprise. “I never quite thought of it that way.”
“I never thought of it any other way. You’re an incredible doctor. Jeremy would be proud.”
“Thanks.” For a second, Blake stood perfectly still, his eyes searching hers. Then, as if he’d found what he was looking for, he moved toward her. “So you’ve thought about it a lot, then? About me?”
Jules swallowed, but her tough-as-nails northie heritage refused to let her back down. “Yes.”
“It wasn’t a lucky guess last week when you said I graduated summa cum laude, was it?”
Sure. One little verbal slip, and of course he’d noticed. “I might’ve looked it up out of curiosity. Just wondering, and all.”
“I wondered about you, too. In fact,” He reached out to slide his fingers over the curve of her jaw, and even the slight contact froze her breath into place. “I wondered about you a lot. About what might have been.”
“Blake.” Oh, God, this conversation was veering into dangerous territory, but his hands felt so good on her skin as he slid them around to cup her face, Jules didn’t care. “We were young and impulsive. You didn’t know what you wanted.”
“I know I wanted you.” His mouth dropped close enough to draw a whimper from her chest, and a wicked smile shadowed his face.
“But not as bad as I want you right now.”
Blake closed the excruciating space between them in one smooth motion, drawing Jules tight against the hard plane of his body, and she didn’t hesitate. She arched up to meet his lips, the heat of his skin and the scent of fresh, woodsy soap filling her senses and sending a deep shot of desire all the way down her spine. He swept his tongue over hers again and again, tasting and exploring as the kiss grew deeper, their breath coming out in short, hard bursts as they finally broke apart.
“But you’re hungry,” she whispered over the tightly-muscled angle of his shoulder as Blake dipped his mouth between her neck and the curve of her ear, and his answering chuckle vibrated over her skin.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” He made his way around the soft, sensitive spot behind her ear, holding the fall of her hair out of the way with a firm palm as he whispered back. “The only thing I’m hungry for is you. It’s always been you.”
The words grounded her, fading everything else to black around them while Blake stayed in vivid, constant focus, and Jules nodded against his mouth. Their differences, their work, their families, none of it mattered except for the way his hands felt on her, reverent and needful and true.
“I want you, too. Please don’t stop. Please.”
He returned to her mouth, only this time he kissed her in slow, languid strokes, and each one made her hotter and more desperate. His chest pressed against hers, and the soft layers of cotton between them and the hard muscles of his chest were enough to turn her nipples to beaded, aching points. Reaching down low, Jules knotted her fingers over the back of his T-shirt, a throaty sound of approval welling up from her throat at the glide of his skin as she pulled the garment off.
“Christ.” Blake’s fingers delved under the hem of her top, and he traced a hot trail of kisses from her neck to her ear. “You taste so sweet.”
She pulled back to look at him
, feeling every inch of his dark, seductive stare in return. Wordlessly, she twined her fingers around his, both of them lifting her shirt over her head before letting it flutter to the floorboards.
“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, and the hoarse edge to his voice sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
“Down the hall.”
Blake nodded, raking a gaze over the swell of her breasts edging past the top of her petal-pink bra. “Now.” He coasted a finger over the edge where the fabric met her skin, following it with his mouth. “Unless you want this to happen right here.”
They moved through the arched entryway and down the hall in a tangle of tongues and desire and cast-off clothing, finally reaching her bedroom with nothing but the panties that matched her now-discarded bra and a pair of boxers between them. Blake guided her backwards toward the shadowy outline of her bed, and when the back of her thighs bumped against the mattress, Jules knelt over the rumpled covers to pull him in toward the cradle of her hips.
“Oh, God.” Even with part of his weight braced against the forearm now pressed into the mattress by her shoulder, the pressure on the spot where his cock slid hard against the furrow between her thighs sent a spark of need through her blood. Unable to help it, Jules thrust her hips, once, then twice before reaching to where their bodies touched most intimately.
“Jules.” The rough edges Blake put on her name curled a smile over her lips, but it didn’t stop her from wrapping her fingers around his erection, even as he pressed against her. “Do you… remember what I said this morning?”
“About lasting more than thirty seconds?” She moved her hand in conjunction with her hips to stroke him with both at the same time, and Blake’s gaze glittered near-black over hers in the barely-there light from down the hallway.
“No. About how I’m going to make you come first.”
With a nimble pull, he broke from her grasp, sliding down the length of her belly with friction that made her bite back a moan. Nudging her knees apart with his shoulders, he settled in at the seam of her body, trailing first a finger, then his tongue, along the soft line where her panties curved against her sex.
He was totally going to get what he wanted.
“Blake.” The word escaped on a puff of breath, the heat between her legs burning even brighter as he slipped the scrap of fabric from her hips, leaving her completely bare.
“You are so beautiful.” Blake placed an open-mouthed kiss on her hip bone before moving to the other side. “You’re strong.” More wet heat from his lips and tongue, and oh God, she was going to fall apart if he didn’t touch her.
“Blake, please,” she whispered, unable to keep from tipping her hips in an obvious invitation.
But he refused to be hurried, and his words rushed through her with the same intensity as his touch. “You’re bright.” Another kiss, on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, then one to match it on the other side. “And honest.”
He looked up at her for one brief second, eyes locking on hers with no argument or hesitation as he finished, “You’re perfect just the way you are.”
Blake lowered his mouth to her core, and Jules nearly arched off the bed at the sheer intensity of the connection. With each movement of his hands and lips and tongue, she shifted from raw desire to absolute demand, and his response never wavered. Tension coiled, low and sweet at her very center, threatening to unravel with quickening speed. But Blake didn’t tease or hesitate, and his absolute focus on nothing but her pleasure made holding back impossible.
“Oh. Oh.” The scant syllables were all Jules could manage before he drove her straight over the edge, the bright release of her orgasm crashing through every last space in her body. He softened the contact between them in slow strokes, working her gently through the mind-blowing intensity still rolling under her skin like tiny aftershocks of pleasure.
And now she was going to get what she wanted.
“Come here.” Bending her knees, she levered up from the mattress, hooking her hands around the upper part of Blake’s torso to lift him flush against her. She anchored one leg around his waist, using the leverage in conjunction with a just-hard-enough push on his shoulder to reverse their position so he was flat on the mattress, looking up at her.
“You might have gotten your way, but now I’m getting mine.”
She dragged her palms over his bare chest, making her way past the lean ridges of his abdominal muscles before reaching the crisp scattering of hair leading into his waistband. The thin cotton of his boxers offered just the right amount of friction, and he groaned as he thrust along with the movements of her hand.
“Please tell me your way involves me inside of you,” Blake ground out, his hand finding her waist and holding her tight as she teased and stroked. “You’re killing me here.”
Jules chuckled and slipped from his body, but only long enough to snag a condom from her bedside drawer. Tearing the package open, she freed him from his last piece of clothing, sheathing him with efficient movements before settling back into his lap.
“Better?” she asked, framing his face with her palms as she tightened her thighs to balance her body over his. The tips of her breasts brushed over his chest, triggering the demand for more in her belly, and she leaned in to kiss him deeply before he finally pulled back.
“Be sure you want this, Jules,” Blake whispered, but she answered him without words. Keeping her eyes steady on his, Jules slowly sank back, pressing her aching center against his cock until there was no space at all between them.
“Perfect. Jesus, you’re perfect.” His hands went tight around the flare of her hips, guiding her into a rocking motion that hit every pleasure point in her body. They moved together in deliberate rhythm, unhurried at first, before the swirl of desire rebuilt between her legs, low and insistent. Blake angled his hips, bending his knees just enough to tip her forward, and oh God she wasn’t going to last.
“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
His fingers dug into her skin in reply, relentless but not forceful, and he pressed his forearms tight to her thighs. Keeping her locked into place, he thrust up into her core, arching up off the bed sheets to fill her over and again. Jules dropped her chin to direct her gaze downward, and the sight of their bodies joined together so flawlessly turned the tremble in her body into release. At the sound of her keening sigh, Blake’s pace became urgent, his body going completely taut for just a split second before he held her close and breathed out her name on a shudder.
They lay joined together for a few minutes, nothing passing between them but ragged breath and tender touches. Blake shifted her gently to his side, burying his face in the space between her neck and her shoulder.
“You are perfect,” he repeated on little more than a whisper.
And in that slice of suspended time, with nothing but breath and darkness and his arms around her, Jules believed him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Blake awoke to several realizations all at once. First was that he was not on one of the narrow cots the hospital allotted for catching up on sleep during downtime, as rare as it was, nor was he at home. Second was that, as best he could tell, he wasn’t wearing a single stitch of clothing.
Third— and definitely most important— was that Jules was tucked up against his chest, her face softened by the throes of early-morning sleep, and from the feel of things, she was just as naked as he was.
This was the best morning of his fucking life.
Okay, yes, he’d torn out of the gym last night led by little more than hot impulse, and no, he hadn’t expected his conversation with Jules to turn to his brother. He definitely hadn’t intended to go all touchy-feely over Jeremy’s death, especially when he had never admitted feeling guilty or helpless to anyone before. Hell, he hadn’t even realized he’d felt those things so profoundly, really. But rather than giving up the standard sympathy pat and canned line about things easing with time, Jules had delivered a straight-up answer in that straight-
up way that made him absolutely crazy for her.
And what’s more, she hadn’t been wrong. Blake should be living his life out loud and in Technicolor. He’d been spending all this time trying to fight being impulsive about Jules, it had never occurred to him that doing exactly that, being impulsive and taking the risk to be with her, had been what he’d wanted all along.
Just as long as she didn’t run again.
The thought had barely made it to Blake’s still-half-asleep brain before an obnoxiously loud ringtone ripped through the hush of the bedroom, startling the ever-loving crap out of him. Jules sucked in a breath, eyes flying wide and unseeing as she jerked away from his body toward the sound, and Blake’s arms tightened instinctively around her ribcage in response.
“That’s mine,” he murmured, finally recognizing the sound of the phone while simultaneously cursing its very existence. “Sorry. I have to make sure there’s not an emergency at the hospital.”
Shifting so he could let go of her while still keeping her close, Blake reached over the side of the bed. He fumbled for the spot where Jules had thrown his jeans after they’d gotten up to finally get something to eat last night, only to end up right back where they’d started in her bed.
Twice.
His iPhone fell out of the back pocket of his jeans after one good shake, and Blake pressed it to his ear without checking the caller ID to avoid having the call go to voicemail.
“Blake Fisher.”
“Aw, did I wake you, Princess?” Aaron’s laughter rumbled over the line, and shit. Blake knew better than to skip caller ID.
“It’s…” He yanked the phone away from his face to squint at the display. “Eight-thirty in the morning on my day off, jackass. Yes, you woke me.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Aaron said, actually sounding contrite. “I got up early to go rock climbing. Kickass sunrise in Cedar Point Park. Anyway, how’d it go last night? Did you talk to her, or what?”
Outside The Lines Page 7
