Chapter 20
Izzy Blake’s expression was unreadable - dark - as his brown eyes seemed to be looking for something in her face. His gaze stayed on hers when he said, “I was at your apartment.” “You were?” Izzy couldn’t look away from his intense eye contact, which was exactly at her level as he crouched beside her. “Why?” His forehead got a little crinkle, just between his eyebrows. “Didn’t you get my texts?” He’d been sending messages? “Josh has had my phone since last night.” “Ah.” He did that flex/unflex thing with his jaw, looking terribly serious. His voice was low and a little gruff when he said, “I thought you were ignoring me.” “Why are you all wet?” she asked, watching a drop of water roll down the side of his face. “I dropped your car off at your place,” he said. “Walked home when you weren’t there.” “Why did you contact all those HR people on my behalf, Blake?” She hadn’t meant to just blurt it out, but the question was eating away at her. “It had to have taken you hours to connect with that many business contacts. Why on earth would you do that for me?” He looked at her mouth. Swallowed. “Don’t you know?” “Guilt?” she asked, feeling a shiver shimmy up her spine. “Try again.” She drew in a shaky breath and wished she hadn’t opted for the t-shirt dress, because her legs were getting goosebumps. The ability of Blake’s face to deliver chills made the comfy-cute garment totally weather-inappropriate. “Charity?” “Iz.” Blake leaned a little closer, where his lips hovered just above hers, and he murmured, “Don’t you know that I’d do anything to make you happy?” Izzy felt the world shift as she looked at Blake’s honest face and saw that he meant it. “You should get out of those wet clothes.” She climbed to her feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him up with her. “Give me your keys.” He watched her, and without a word, pulled his keys out of his pocket and held them out. “Thank you,” she said, taking them from his fingers, but she felt a little ridiculous when her hands shook as she unlocked the door. The smell of his apartment when she pushed in the big, wooden door - clean and somehow totally his - felt like a welcome. “I’m going to change,” he said, still looking solemn. “Don’t go anywhere.” “I won’t.” His eyes were bright as he said, “Better not.” “You know,” she commented, remembering what he’d said about sending her messages. “You could let me use your phone to read the texts I missed while I wait.” He kind of froze when she said that, which made her regret it. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter--” “No.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket and dragged his big thumb across the screen. “I just, uh, I guess you could say I was a little in my feelings while I waited for you.” That made her smile. “I cannot believe you just said those words, Phillips.” “Right?” He made a self-deprecating laugh-cough. “I’m a fucking idiot now.” “Now?” He finally looked like he might smile - but he didn’t. He paused, looking at her, running his eyes all over her face, before he held out his phone and said, “Just don’t judge me too harshly until I get a chance to defend myself.” She took his phone and felt like she’d won something. “Deal.” He disappeared down the hall, and she walked into the living room and leaned her backside against the couch’s armrest. She found her name in his messages - SBUX AMY - and started reading from the last text she remembered getting from him. Blake: Can I please call you? That was the text she’d received while in the van with Josh and his friends, just before he’d taken her phone. The next message was from 8am that morning. Are you awake? An hour later: Can I buy you breakfast and we can talk? Please? An hour after that: I get that you don’t want to talk to me and I respect that. But I really wish you’d give me five minutes. Just hear me out, and then you can go back to hating me if you want. Two hours later: I have pizza, McDonalds, flowers, a six-pack, a gallon of chocolate ice cream, a bottle of wine, and a thousand apologies. If you’ll let me come in, I’ll give you all of it. Twenty minutes after that: I’m waiting on your porch. Please don’t think I’m a stalker, but I can’t focus on anything but you - us - so I might as well just wait until you get here. Ten minutes later: There is a squirrel approaching and he looks hungry. I’m scared. Ten minutes after that: Fuck, here’s the thing, Iz. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone, okay? I love the language you use and the weird way you think and the smell of your hair and the way you make me laugh and the way you eat pizza more than any human ever should and I miss you. One minute later: My apologies for the run-on sentence. Also I KNOW that it’s stupid to miss you when it’s only been a day, but somehow I do. Two minutes later: I will do whatever it takes to fix this because I think I love you. I know it’s too soon and swear to God I’m not some pathetic clinger, but I just “Still reading?” Izzy looked up from the phone and there was Blake, wearing grey sweatpants and a Cubs t-shirt, and the strength of the feelings she had for him was kind of overwhelming. He watched her, looking… nervous, actually, and she felt a little lightheaded. So she just nodded and blinked back the tears in her eyes. He said, “If you need more time--” “I think I love you, too,” she blurted out. If it weren’t for the way his Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed, she might’ve thought he didn’t hear her. His expression didn’t change one bit before he said, “What did you just say?” She felt like an idiot. “Well, I mean, I’m sure--” “Fucking say it again,” he said, closing the distance between them. In a second he was wrapping his arms around her waist and adding, “But slower, Iz. Please, God.” She set her hands on his chest - the Chest. Where it all began. She said, “I. Think. I. Love. You. Too.” He set his forehead on hers. “It’s weird, right?” She let her eyes close and she whispered back, “It’s always been weird with us. Since the very beginning.” He pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose. “So where’s all my stuff?” she asked, very nearly purring as he rubbed his nose against hers. His mouth slid into a big smile - finally, and he said, “The dumpster behind your building.” “What?” She pulled back to give him her best scowl. “You threw it all away?” “Baby, I was depressed as fuck in the pouring rain,” he said, teasing but also sounding serious. “I threw your stuff away with a shit-ton of force and a litany of sad curses, actually.” That made her ridiculously pleased even while she felt sorry for him. She tilted her head and said, “Wait - am I baby now?” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to be?” She grinned and squinted, like she was thinking hard. “Will you please say the words Are you lost, baby girl? Just as a sample so I can see if I like it?” “You little pervert,” he said, squeezing her waist and giving her mock anger. “I will not table read from your favorite porn.” She started laughing, unable to believe he remembered their discussion about the spicy Netflix movie. “365 Days is NOT porn, for the record; I already told you that.” “Just because you say something doesn’t mean it’s a fact.” “Sure, it doesn’t.” “Iz.” “Huh?” He said through gritted teeth, “Can we stop talking now?” “I don’t know if I can--” He cut her off with his hands, which pulled her tighter against his body, and his mouth, which landed hot and wild on hers. Yeah - he didn’t have to tell her twice. Izzy kissed him back like a wanton, her body infused with a heady cocktail of relief, gratitude and primal lust. She panted like she was running as he opened his mouth wide over hers. His big hands came up to the sides of her face, his fingers flexing on her skin, which made her purr. “Your dress is cute,” he said against her lips, “And needs to be gone. I’d take care of it but I don’t think I can do it without fucking ripping it off.” She reached around to the back and undid the zipper, letting the dress fall to the floor as they continued kissing each other like they’d been kept apart for decades. Her hands found their way to his thick hair and then he was picking her up, his mouth still feeding her heat as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he led them down the hall. “I love how big your hands are,” she breathed, feeling his palms under her ass as he carried her like she weighed mere ounces. “So fucking sexy.” “I love how strong your thighs are,” he said, lifting his mouth from hers and giving her a dirty grin. “And the way you always tighten them when I do this.” He lowered his head and bit down lightly on her neck, which made her clench every single muscle in her body, which made him laugh and groan, all at the same time. She somehow managed to pull off his t-shirt as he carried her into the bedroom, and when he climbed onto the bed with Izzy wrapped around his body, her feet managed to plant on the back of his calves and pull down his sweatpants. “Fucking industrious,” he said, laughing as he rolled onto his back (carrying her with him) and used his own feet to finish the job. “See, this is why I think I love you.” She felt warmth bloom, from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her head, as he grinned up at her. She settled on top of him, sitting up and letting her knees lower to each side of his hips as she grinned right back. “Because I can take off your pants with my feet.” “No.” His smile dropped away and he raised his hands to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer to his. It felt like his dark eyes were her whole world as his fingers burned her skin. He swallowed and said, “I mean, yes. But no. Because you’re this fucking gorgeous perfect weirdo that I am obsessed with.” Her throat was tight, because for some reason it felt like the most perfect love declaration she could ever imagine. “It’s way too soon to say this, but I know I love you, Iz, just like I know Goodyear needs insulin to live and that I’m allergic to cashews.” He was beautiful and earnest as he looked into her eyes said, “I don’t expect you to --” “But I do.” She blinked back tears – what the hell was that – and nodded. “I know it, too.” His jaw muscle tensed and his nostrils flared before he pulled her mouth back to his. And then everything changed. He was still delivering white-hot hunger with his lips and tongue, but it somehow felt deeper, as if they were signing their names to an unspoken agreement, committing to something bigger via kisses and sighs. His hands tangled in her hair and he sat up, like he couldn’t get enough and needed to be closer, and she wondered if she could die from an overdose of lust. She felt like she could and also that she’d be absolutely fine with it. What a way to go. Blake Phillips was killing her, and she never wanted it to stop. He turned them again, so he was above her, and she reveled in the feel of him; the weight of his big body on hers, the slide of his leg hair against her own opposing smoothness, the heat of his skin. The hardness of his body – every ridged, straining muscle – made her wild with need. She trailed her fingers up his wide, shredded back, her nails pressing into his flesh as she urged him closer. More. She needed more. Him. Now. “Blake,” she said against his lips, shamelessly digging her heels into his soft sheets, rubbing against him as he continued treating her mouth as if it were a gourmet meal and he’d been deprived of food for a month. She managed to pant out now and please without interrupting the delicious onslaught, and then she hissed yessssss when she heard his big hand rifling in the nightstand. But Blake - Blake didn’t stop. No, he continued inhaling her, devouring her, even while suiting himself up. Hot damn, she thought, delirious with want. VP Blake is a fucking Rockstar at multi-tasking. She closed her eyes and kissed him back with every single piece of her, and when he pressed inside her body, filling her so perfectly, she already couldn’t remember what it felt like to not love Blake Phillips.
Blake “Come on, Shay – you don’t really want to go home, do you?” Blake asked, yelling from the bed as she fetched them snacks from the kitchen. It was midnight, and not only was he exhausted, but he really wanted Izzy to sleep in his bed all night. “Of course I don’t,” she yelled back, clinking dishes. “But The Darkling needs food.” “Can’t you call Josh?” “He’s got an early flight in the morning,” she said. “He won’t help.” Blake kicked back the covers, got up and walked into the kitchen. “What’s his number?” “Whose?” Izzy glanced at him as she sprinkled shredded cheese all over a huge stack of tortilla chips. “Have I ever told you how good you look in a pair of boxer-briefs, by the way?” “You have not and thank you. Now - your cousin.” Blake sat down at one of the counter stools and watched as she bent her knees – to be at nacho eye-level, he was assuming – and surveyed her chip mountain. “What’s his number?” She spouted it off, still focused on her snacks, and he texted: Can you feed Izzy’s cat? The response was almost immediate. Is this The Douche? You’ve got some nerve. Unless Izzy has forgiven you, in which case, Blake – what’s happening? Blake half-smiled at that; who were these weirdos, anyway? He stood and went to find Goodyear in the living room. He texted: It IS Blake. I’ll give you fifty bucks. Josh: No I’m pissed at you. Douche. Unless I have permission to not be. Do I have Iz’s ok? He full-on smiled at that, scooping up the cat and texting: You have her ok. She’s sleeping over. We’re good. But for the record, Josh, I apologize to you, as well. Josh: Thx. If you promise not to dick her around, this one’s on the house. Blake: You’re too kind. Josh: Right? Blake: Later, Josh. Josh: Peace out, Physical Challenge. Blake set Goodyear on the leather recliner – stupid cat loved to sleep there but couldn’t get up without help – and he saw Izzy through his sliding door. She was standing on the balcony, looking out at the city, looking like a fantasy in just his t-shirt and argyle socks. Okay – looking like his idea of a fantasy. When he pulled open the door, she didn’t turn around. She leaned on the railing and said, “I love it out here.” “Same.” He stepped closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and trapping her between his body and the railing. He lowered his head, inhaling the sweetness of her neck as he said, “Can I ask you a question?” “Sure,” she said, a smile in her voice as she ground her backside against him. “Minx,” he muttered, nipping at her neck. “Do you think you can keep the noise down if I were to lift that t-shirt, slide down those panties and bend you over the balcony?” “Hell, yes,” she said in a near-whisper, sounding half-amused and half-aroused. “You sure?” he asked, biting down on her earlobe as his hands found her soft thighs. He slowly slid his fingers up the backs of her legs – fuck she had the softest skin – until he was lifting the hem of the shirt over her perfect ass. “Because you’re kind of noisy, and I have to live here.” “Well,” she said, her voice a breathy rasp that made his blood boil. “I guess you have a choice to make, Chest. Risk versus reward.” She removed the sexy layer of lace and presented him with a beautiful choice. “If I say I love you at this moment,” he started, feeling dizzy with lust as he shed his own layer of Calvin Klein cotton so damn fast. “It won’t count,” she said, widening her stance and making any remaining blood drain from his head. “Grab the railing,” he said, done playing. “And lean down a little.” “You’re not the boss of me anymore, remember?” she said, looking at him over her shoulder, and then she moaned when he slid inside her. No - it wasn’t a moan. She sighed, but with volume. He didn’t know what it was called, that noise, but he knew it set him on fire. “Do you have any idea,” he said, clenching his jaw as he grabbed her hips and started moving, “How many times I've imagined this exact scenario playing out in my office, on top of my desk, and I was absolutely the boss of you?” Her breathing was erratic, her fingers tightly wrapped around the railing, but the smartass still managed to say - no, she breathed, “VP Blake is unethical in his perverted fantasies.” “Only about you,” he said, and then he didn’t say anything else at all. It got to hot, too good, too overwhelmingly potent for him to remember what the hell words even were after that.