by Layla Hagen
“You’re really going to wear us out, huh?” I ask on the way back to the market.
“Yep. That’s why I asked you to come.”
“Ah, and I thought it was just an excuse because you were missing us,” Daniel says.
I scan the market again. Clara would love it here. Pity the market will close before she returns. Then an idea strikes me. If I can’t bring Clara to the market, I can bring the market to Clara. Sort of. I can buy her...what? I don’t know what her favorite flowers or plants are, but I know she likes them. She said something about wanting flowers on the balcony.
“Summer, do you know what plants or flowers Clara likes? She said she wants some for the balcony, but she didn’t get around to buying any.”
She cocks her head in my direction so fast I think I hear her neck give a little snap.
“You’re buying her flowers? Oh, Blake, you’re finally, finally on the right track.” She pokes my chest over the heart area. “And of course I know what her favorites are. What kind of matchmaker would I be if I didn’t? I’ve done my homework.”
“Good, because I have a plan, and I need your help.”
I miss Clara. I haven’t realized how used I am to knowing she’s next door. Somewhere at the back of my mind nags the thought that her condo building will be ready in a few weeks, but I ignore it, focusing on the now. And the now includes a truckload of flowers. I can’t wait for Clara to return and see what I’ve been up to.
More than once, I’ve been thinking about her scars. I knew she grew up in a group home, but I haven’t had a real sense of the hardships she’s been through. She’s brave and bold, and I haven’t met anyone like her. I have the overwhelming need to make sure she never goes through hardships again. Totally normal, right?
Summer talks our ears off about Clara while we shop for her, and she’s slowly reverting to her usual cheerful self.
“Shit! It’s getting late,” Summer exclaims when we carry the last load to her car. “I’m meeting Caroline later, by the way.” She wiggles her eyebrows at Daniel.
“How is she?” I ask. “Didn’t have time to talk to her too much at the wedding.”
Daniel throws me a look that says, You’re supposed to have my back.
Whenever our sisters insinuate that Daniel and Caroline should try dating again, I change the subject, even though I actually think the girls are right. Regardless, I usually have his back, twin bond and all that. But right now, I’m testing a theory. Also, payback for not having my back at the ranch.
“She’s great. She talked me into taking kickboxing lessons with her. I went twice. It’s actually fun,” Summer says. “It’s good for anger release and keeps our booty in shape. Win-win. I tried to rope Pippa into it too, but....”
“Bribe her with cupcakes,” Daniel suggests.
“Tried. Failed. But Caroline’s a pro at it. She’s been doing it for a year, and she looks better than ever.” She bats her eyelashes at Daniel. “Don’t you think?”
“She’s always looked great,” he answers. When Summer ducks in her trunk with a satisfied smile, rearranging some of the plants, Daniel holds up his hands as if saying, Need some help here.
He’s out of luck today because my theory is right. If Summer’s busy masterminding, she’s gonna stop thinking about that douchebag, for now at least. I’m going to run this tactic into the ground, even if it means throwing both Daniel and me under the bus.
“Anyway, she’s dating this gorgeous instructor,” she says. “They’re quite serious.”
Daniel has a murderous expression. “What? She was alone at the wedding. When did she start dating him? How serious can it be if she didn’t bring him to the wedding?”
“Yes!” Summer exclaims, straightening up, peeling away a leaf that caught in her hair, and grinning at Daniel from ear to ear.
It’s official. Daniel’s even more clueless than I am. He just dug his own grave.
“I made him up. To...err… check your level of interest.”
Once again, I marvel at my sisters’ talent to get what they want. The tactic is deceptively simple: subtract a helpful brother—me—add a seemingly innocent remark that’s sure to bring out a reaction. Simple and brilliant, but no one except Pippa and Summer can pull it off.
My brother groans. Summer perks up, rubbing her hands in excitement. She’ll be plotting Daniel’s downfall instead of drowning in self-doubt because of her dating disaster. My job here is done.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Clara
The week on set is riddled with mishaps, yet we still somehow managed to finish two hours before the deadline—Thursday at midnight. I briefly consider driving back to San Francisco the same night. I miss my bed, and a certain hot and handsome neighbor who has become so much more than a neighbor. In the end, I decide to stay the night and drive back in the morning. It’s too dangerous. I’m tired, and even with Blake’s anti-sleep alarm, I won’t risk it.
I drive off early the next morning and wait until it’s eight o’clock to call Blake. I’m just about to dial his number when my phone lights up with an incoming call from him.
“Hey! I was just about to call you.”
“When will you be in town?”
Sighing, I tighten my grip on the wheel. His voice is a little rough, like he just woke up, and my insides squeeze at the sound of it. How can his voice alone affect me so much? I mean, the man’s voice is sexy as all get-out, but it’s still a little ridiculous.
“Lunch, but I still have to go by the studio, drop some things off, and send some e-mails. I’ll probably be there the entire afternoon.”
“Can you be ready at six?”
“Why?”
“We’re going on a date.”
I do a little happy dance in my seat, which probably looks crazy to anyone passing by, but I couldn’t care less. A date with Blake Bennett. A date!
Since I am not well versed in the art of “no labels,” I wasn’t really sure how this would play out.
I clear my throat, trying to sound like this is no big deal. “When and where? Why didn’t I know about this?”
“I was going to surprise you.”
“No, no, no. I need a proper heads-up, so I can get ready.”
“Let me get this straight. I can attack and seduce you in the middle of the night, but I have to give you a heads-up for a date?”
“Um...yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
I smile, imagining his expression. “So, where are we going?”
“Surprise.”
“Blake, come on, I need clues so I know what to wear. Help a girl out. I don’t want to stick out like a sore thumb.”
“You’re beautiful no matter what you wear, Clara.”
Well dang. This man has a dangerous way with words. “We’re going to have dinner. Nothing fancy. I’ll make reservations at eight.”
“No way. The earliest I can be ready is nine.”
“But you said you’ll be done at the studio at six.”
“So? I need to get ready.”
“You need three hours? Will I recognize you?”
“I’m getting fancy, not undergoing plastic surgery.”
“Okay, I’ll make reservations at nine thirty. I can’t wait to see you.”
My chest fills with warmth. “Me too.”
After clicking off, I mentally go through the dresses I own. I don’t want to barely make the cut. I want Blake to be proud with me on his arm.
***
Blake isn’t in his apartment when I arrive at home, which is just as good, because I know him. He’d try to sneak in, and my plan is for him to see the full package at the end. It sort of works. I’m almost done when I step out of the bathroom, hastily looking around for some hairpins.
Blake is on the balcony, pacing in front of the French doors. He notices me a split second later and stops midstride, the corners of his mouth lifting up.
And that smile? I’d do anything for it. Anything.
&nbs
p; I’ve made a plan that if he tried to snoop from the balcony, I’d tease him, locking the door and keeping him outside. But the moment I see him, all those plans seem extremely foolish. I need to touch him, kiss him, laugh with him. And I can’t wait even one second longer. I head straight to the French doors, open them, and we collide in a hot and heavy kiss. Luckily, I haven’t applied lipstick yet.
When I pull away, I’m breathless.
“Hi,” Blake says. His hand is around my waist, keeping me flush against him.
“Hi back.” I look up at him, drinking him in. The man is seriously gorgeous. Everything from the set of his jaw, the width of his shoulders, and the muscles lacing his arms scream masculinity. It oozes off him, making me lose my train of thought. He’s leaning lightly over me, and there is something inherently domineering about his pose. Licking my lips, I feel myself liquefy in his arms. I take a step back to clear my mind and twirl around, feeling like a princess in my dress.
“What do you think?”
“I think I can’t wait to get that dress off you.”
My breath catches as he rakes his gaze over me. My God, he can be intense. Still, I need to make something clear before I let him have his wicked way with me—fingers crossed for very wicked.
I move my forefinger right in front of his nose, signaling no. “Careful. This belongs to my best friend, Penny. She loaned it to me a while ago. I have to return it intact.”
“I can buy her a new one if I damage this one.”
Well, well, isn’t he cheeky. I start working on a sassy reply—my usual sass won’t cut it; Blake requires I up my standards—but then I look beyond his shape, to the balcony outside. Mouth agape, I rush past him to the French doors, taking in the sight. Pots hang from the railing, and they’re chock-full of flowers.
“Wow! What happened here?” I ask Blake, who joins me outside.
“Do you like it?”
“Of course! I love it. Dahlias are my favorite flowers. Oh, and hydrangeas. I love them.”
“I know.”
This catches me off guard, and I slice a glance at him. “You do?”
“Summer told me. She helped me with all this. I have a number of talents, but I don’t have a green thumb, or any clue about flowers. I know you wanted to do this but didn’t have time, so Summer and I did it for you.”
Something stirs inside me. He’s being very sweet and attentive, more than anyone has been with me. I could get used to this, and that’s dangerous.
“Thank you,” I say simply, proud that my voice is even.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Blake is watching me intensely. Being the object of his attention is messing with my senses.
“I missed you, Clara.”
He tucks me into his side, kissing my temple, and my heart swells knowing he shares my feelings. Hearing him say it first makes it easier to open up, my fears of coming across as clingy subsiding somewhat.
“I missed you too. So much!”
He wraps both arms around me, and we stay like that for several moments. Part of me had wondered if I’d built him up in my mind, but no. Being in his arms makes me feel wanted and safe, desired and respected. How can he do all this at the same time? More worryingly, how am I supposed to be without him once this runs its course? Don’t be silly, Clara. I’ve been without a man for thirty years. But that was before Blake and all his deliciousness.
He’s not helping my case by doing nice things for me. Doesn’t he know that’s my kryptonite? Obviously not, so I have to inform him. Silly man. He can’t keep doing nice things for me, taking care of me, and not expect me to fall for him.
“You can’t keep doing nice things for me, Blake. Why do you do it?”
He simply kisses the top of my head, hugging me tighter. “Because you’re not used to it, and you should be. So I’m going to keep doing it.”
“But—”
“It’s not up for negotiation.”
Ah, this damn man. He smiles, right before he kisses me hard. I find myself smiling back against his lips. Does he have any idea how blissfully happy he makes me? I want to do the same for him. But what can I give a man who already has everything?
Taking my hand, he leads me back inside. Raising my hand to his lips, he kisses the back of it. I breathe in sharply, the contact zinging through me. Next thing I know, he closes the distance between us, hooking an arm around my waist, tracing the contour of my jaw with his other hand. He pushes me farther inside the apartment, kissing up my neck, my cheeks, my temple. Finally, he kisses my lips.
***
Blake
I’ve missed her skin, the scent, the warmth, all the things that make her Clara. Now that I have her back, I want to get my fill of her. When she laces her arms around my neck, I deepen the kiss, pressing myself against her. I’m hard, and if I’m not going to do something about it, I won’t be able to get it together the entire evening.
“Shouldn’t we go?” she whispers, but the corners of her mouth are up in a smile. She wants this as much as I do. I back her against the nearest wall.
“We should, but we won’t. Not yet. I need to be inside you first, or I’ll go crazy.”
Her only response is tucking herself closer to me. I feel her hardened nipples against my chest, and nearly drive into her. But no, I need to get her ready first.
Looking her straight in the eyes, I bunch up her dress, until the fabric ends and I feel the skin of her thighs. I trail my fingers up, and then—fuck me. She isn’t wearing panties. I press my fingers against her opening and she drops her head back, moaning.
“You’re not wearing underwear.”
“I was going to put them on last.”
She’s wet, but I’ll be fast and rough, so I need her drenched. Pressing the heel of my palm against her clit, I trail my fingers up and down each fold, coating myself in her wetness, coaxing a whimper out of her, then a moan. When I slide a finger inside her, she fists my shirt, closing her eyes. When I slide in the second one, she buries her face in my chest.
“Blake, fuck!”
My control nearly snaps. My pants feel like they’re about to burst, that’s how hard I am.
After inhaling deeply a few times, I wrap my other hand in her hair, keeping her forehead pressed against me while I drive my fingers in and out of her, the heel of my palm applying more and more pressure. She thrashes and whimpers, but I don’t leave room for her to pull away. When I feel the first spasms around my fingers, I pull them out.
“No!” Her cry of protest is the sweetest thing. “Why did you…? I was about to...?”
She looks straight up at me, her eyes narrowed in accusation, her intent clear: if I don’t give her an acceptable answer, I’ll pay for it. I adore her fiery nature.
“You will climax, but only when I’m inside you. It will be more intense that way. I promise.”
She tilts her head, as if considering this. “If you’re not going to be inside me this very second, you’ll be sorry.”
I move my hand from the side of her head to her cheek, resting my thumb at the corner of her mouth.
“You don’t make the rules, Clara. I do.”
Dragging my thumb across her lower lip, I press it against the center, at its plumpest point. She opens her mouth, licking me. Oh fuck.
“This is going to be fast and quick, but when we get back, I’m going to take my time with you. I promise.”
She nods, licking her lips as I cinch her dress up to her waist, then lift her up by her ass.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
She does, and damn, I love how obedient she is when we’re intimate. For all her sass and penchant for challenging me, she likes it that I take control in the bedroom...or against the wall.
She works on my belt, undoes the button of my pants and then the zipper, freeing my erection. She runs her palm up and down, and my balls tighten.
“Put both your arms around my neck.”
She obeys immediately. Jesus! Her submission is a t
urn-on.
Breathing in and out through clenched teeth, I look down between us as I push forward. The length of my cock is pressing against her slit, my tip teasing her clit.
“Oh, Blake.” She draws in a sharp breath, and I feel the goose bumps forming on her legs, her ass, which I’m cupping with both hands.
“One day, I want to be inside you without anything between us.”
She inhales sharply. “I’ve ne—never done that.”
“Then I’ll be the first. When you’re ready.”
She shudders in my arms, nodding. I feel that primal instinct surge again at the thought that I’ll give her that for the first time. I want to own her pleasure, her body, be the only one with the right to worship her. The only one. I want to earn this woman’s trust, be worthy of her.
But for now, I secure her between the wall and me as I reach into my pocket, retrieving a condom—yeah, I foresaw we’d need to get our fill of each other before leaving. I hand it to her quickly before placing my hand back under her ass.
“Roll it on.”
I’m pressing my fingers into her ass cheeks, parting them slightly, then pushing them together. She rips the package with shaky fingers, and I love that I can do this to her, make her tremble in anticipation. When she finishes rolling, I don’t wait one more second.
I sink inside her, and it’s all sweet and warm heaven. I’ll never get enough of this, of her. Her inner walls are snug around me, and I’m losing my mind. She’s gazing up at me, not just with lust, but also with adoration. That look is enough to bring me to my knees. What would it take for Clara to always look at me like this? To be worthy of that look?
I become faster, rougher, keeping my eyes trained on her the entire time, drinking in her pleasure and looking for signs that this is too wild for her. It is not. She takes it all, succumbs to it.
“Touch yourself,” I command. She slips her hand between us, and it’s a sight I want imprinted on my retinas. But at the same time, she grows a little stiff. My hunch is that she isn’t used to touching herself if she’s not alone.
“Relax. Enjoy this. You’re so beautiful touching yourself, Clara.”
