Unwritten
Page 31
“We’re here?” I lift my head, blinking.
Blake gives me a hot smile. “We’re here.”
He pays the driver a generous tip and then pulls me from the car. We stumble, laughing, into the lobby of the building. I see flashes of gleaming marble and sleek, modern design, but nothing registers except Blake, only Blake. The elevator doors close behind us, and then his lips are on mine again.
Yes. I kiss him hard, stumbling back against the wall. His tongue slides, hot against mine, probing deep in an intimate kiss. “Goddamn, you’ve been driving me crazy,” Blake breathes, pulling away. “I swear, Dash wants to kill me, all the takes I’ve ruined because I can’t get you out of my head.”
I giggle. “How do you think I feel?” I grip the neck of his T-shirt in my fist, pulling his face down to eye-level. “You’ve been ignoring me. We had these amazing kisses, and then you acted like I didn’t exist.”
He groans, kissing me again, hard and sweet. “I’m sorry, baby, I tried. But you’re impossible to ignore.”
I feel a glow, deep inside. “So don’t,” I scold him. “Don’t act like I’m just some girl. I know you better than that, remember?”
For a moment, Blake’s expression shifts. He blinks, staring down at me, and I swear he looks the same way he did when I was trying to teach him how to ride: that same discomfort, that same frustrated edge, like he’s in over his head.
My heart sinks. What did I say?
I quickly reach up and kiss him again, pressing my whole body against his, needing to erase whatever mistake I just made. Blake resists for a split-second, but then he’s holding me tight again, devouring my mouth until the elevator doors ding open, and he pulls me down the hall to a doorway at the end.
“Wait a sec,” he whispers, unlocking the door. He pushes it open and edges inside the dark apartment. “Ash?” he calls. “Hey, bro, you home?”
Silence.
Blake turns back to me, grinning. “All clear.”
I follow him inside. He flips the lights on, illuminating a gorgeous penthouse with incredible views of the city. “Wow,” I gasp. “Where have you guys been hiding this place?”
Blake chuckles. “Ash is pretty protective of his bachelor pad.”
“I can see why.” I take a tour around the huge, open-plan living space, trailing my fingertips over the polished surfaces. It’s all chrome and glass, with sleek leather couches and spotless, minimal decor. “Tegan would throw one hell of a party if she got her hands on the keys.”
“Which is exactly why Ash never lets her stay.” Blake strolls over to the bar that’s set up in the corner. “Want a drink?”
“Yes, please.” I feel a sudden shiver of nerves. Now that we’re alone in this silent, gleaming apartment, my bravery is faltering. The hot, frenzied make-out of the club seems like a lifetime ago. Here, there are no shadows to hide in, no dark corners to get carried away and ignore the epic reality of what’s about to happen right now.
Me and Blake, alone at last.
Blake pours us a drink and comes to join me on the couch. The huge expanse of glass windows shows the city laid out before us, a glittering grid of gold and red, headlights on the highway. I take a sip, hyper-aware of his body draped so casually beside mine. The drink hits the back of my throat, cranberry cut with an edge. A cosmopolitan.
“You remembered,” I turn, surprised.
Blake smiles. “Are you kidding? You and Tegan drove us crazy that summer you decided to start drinking. We had like, a dozen family meetings trying to figure out what to do. You were only, what, seventeen?”
“It’s not like we were going out to clubs every night,” I laugh, kicking off my heels and curling my legs up under me to get more comfortable. “We just watched a lot of Sex and the City and decided that if we were going to be sophisticated women of the world, we needed to have a signature cocktail.” I smile, remembering how we would sneak booze from the liquor cabinet at their house and mix up crazy concoctions with fruit juice and syrups. “Anyway, you and Dex were out getting wasted long before we ever tried.”
Blake shakes his head. “That was different.”
“Why? Because you’re guys?” I challenge lightly.
“Well, yeah.”
I laugh, but he shakes his head. “You don’t understand. Tegan was the baby of the family, it was our job to protect her. And you…” He stops, but I know what he was about to say.
I was part of the deal. Another little sister in need of protection.
I look away. This is all wrong: the last thing I should be doing is reminding him of the girl I used to be. I need to show him the woman I am now.
I get to my feet. “Music?” I ask. “Ash has got to have this place tricked out with some hi-tech system.”
Blake smiles, relaxing again. “Over in the corner.”
I walk over, flipping through the iPod settings until I find a sultry jazz singer I recognize. “I love this album,” I tell him, as the first low, sexy notes filter through the surround-sound speakers. “I saw her play in Paris, in this smoky little club. It was great.”
“You liked it there?” Blake asks.
I nod, beginning to sway to the music. The alcohol is beginning to snake through my system, warming me from the inside out and making me forget all my nerves again. “Everyone complains that the French are so snooty and rude,” I smile, “but there’s something kind of great about it. No bullshit, you know? The girls I worked with would always insult you to your face, rather than bitch behind your back.”
Blake gives me a hot smile. “We’re here.”
He pays the driver a generous tip and then pulls me from the car. We stumble, laughing, into the lobby of the building. I see flashes of gleaming marble and sleek, modern design, but nothing registers except Blake, only Blake. The elevator doors close behind us, and then his lips are on mine again.
Yes. I kiss him hard, stumbling back against the wall. His tongue slides, hot against mine, probing deep in an intimate kiss. “Goddamn, you’ve been driving me crazy,” Blake breathes, pulling away. “I swear, Dash wants to kill me, all the takes I’ve ruined because I can’t get you out of my head.”
I giggle. “How do you think I feel?” I grip the neck of his T-shirt in my fist, pulling his face down to eye-level. “You’ve been ignoring me. We had these amazing kisses, and then you acted like I didn’t exist.”
He groans, kissing me again, hard and sweet. “I’m sorry, baby, I tried. But you’re impossible to ignore.”
I feel a glow, deep inside. “So don’t,” I scold him. “Don’t act like I’m just some girl. I know you better than that, remember?”
For a moment, Blake’s expression shifts. He blinks, staring down at me, and I swear he looks the same way he did when I was trying to teach him how to ride: that same discomfort, that same frustrated edge, like he’s in over his head.
My heart sinks. What did I say?
I quickly reach up and kiss him again, pressing my whole body against his, needing to erase whatever mistake I just made. Blake resists for a split-second, but then he’s holding me tight again, devouring my mouth until the elevator doors ding open, and he pulls me down the hall to a doorway at the end.
“Wait a sec,” he whispers, unlocking the door. He pushes it open and edges inside the dark apartment. “Ash?” he calls. “Hey, bro, you home?”
Silence.
Blake turns back to me, grinning. “All clear.”
I follow him inside. He flips the lights on, illuminating a gorgeous penthouse with incredible views of the city. “Wow,” I gasp. “Where have you guys been hiding this place?”
Blake chuckles. “Ash is pretty protective of his bachelor pad.”
“I can see why.” I take a tour around the huge, open-plan living space, trailing my fingertips over the polished surfaces. It’s all chrome and glass, with sleek leather couches and spotless, minimal decor. “Tegan would throw one hell of a party if she got her hands on the keys.”
“Which is exactly why Ash never lets her stay.” Blake strolls over to the bar that’s set up in the corner. “Want a drink?”
“Yes, please.” I feel a sudden shiver of nerves. Now that we’re alone in this silent, gleaming apartment, my bravery is faltering. The hot, frenzied make-out of the club seems like a lifetime ago. Here, there are no shadows to hide in, no dark corners to get carried away and ignore the epic reality of what’s about to happen right now.
Me and Blake, alone at last.
Blake pours us a drink and comes to join me on the couch. The huge expanse of glass windows shows the city laid out before us, a glittering grid of gold and red, headlights on the highway. I take a sip, hyper-aware of his body draped so casually beside mine. The drink hits the back of my throat, cranberry cut with an edge. A cosmopolitan.
“You remembered,” I turn, surprised.
Blake smiles. “Are you kidding? You and Tegan drove us crazy that summer you decided to start drinking. We had like, a dozen family meetings trying to figure out what to do. You were only, what, seventeen?”
“It’s not like we were going out to clubs every night,” I laugh, kicking off my heels and curling my legs up under me to get more comfortable. “We just watched a lot of Sex and the City and decided that if we were going to be sophisticated women of the world, we needed to have a signature cocktail.” I smile, remembering how we would sneak booze from the liquor cabinet at their house and mix up crazy concoctions with fruit juice and syrups. “Anyway, you and Dex were out getting wasted long before we ever tried.”
Blake shakes his head. “That was different.”
“Why? Because you’re guys?” I challenge lightly.
“Well, yeah.”
I laugh, but he shakes his head. “You don’t understand. Tegan was the baby of the family, it was our job to protect her. And you…” He stops, but I know what he was about to say.
I was part of the deal. Another little sister in need of protection.
I look away. This is all wrong: the last thing I should be doing is reminding him of the girl I used to be. I need to show him the woman I am now.
I get to my feet. “Music?” I ask. “Ash has got to have this place tricked out with some hi-tech system.”
Blake smiles, relaxing again. “Over in the corner.”
I walk over, flipping through the iPod settings until I find a sultry jazz singer I recognize. “I love this album,” I tell him, as the first low, sexy notes filter through the surround-sound speakers. “I saw her play in Paris, in this smoky little club. It was great.”
“You liked it there?” Blake asks.
I nod, beginning to sway to the music. The alcohol is beginning to snake through my system, warming me from the inside out and making me forget all my nerves again. “Everyone complains that the French are so snooty and rude,” I smile, “but there’s something kind of great about it. No bullshit, you know? The girls I worked with would always insult you to your face, rather than bitch behind your back.”
