Page 48 of Level With Me
I startled. “Oh,” I said, nerves suddenly ratcheting through me. “I didn’t—”
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Blake asked, rising up on one elbow. “Cassandra?”
I hesitated. There was no point in lying to him now. “I want you towantto kiss me,” I said. That was the awful, pathetic truth.
Blake forced himself to sit up. “Goddammit Cassandra, I’ve wanted to kiss you all fuckin’ night. All week, since—”
I leaned forward and planted my lips on his. They were full, soft, tinged with sweetness and whiskey.
At first, Blake didn’t move. Then he sprang into action, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me over him, onto the bed. He rolled so I was on my back and he was leaning over me. He stared at me a moment, his expression hungry. “Beautiful.” Then he kissed me once more, slipping his tongue into my mouth, drawing his teeth down on my lip before releasing it again.
I made a sound halfway between a cry and a moan as his hand slid up my leg, under my skirt.
“Did you think I didn’t want you?” he asked, pulling his face away from mine, but continuing the slip of his hand up my thigh. His eyes seemed slightly hazy, but they stayed focused on me.
Heat ran through me, fomenting down low.
“I don’t know anymore,” I said.
Ned messed up my sensor. But Ned was the last thing I wanted to think about right now.
“I want you,” he said.
The sheet was still shrouding his bottom half. His upper half was gorgeous—sculpted, smooth, hard.
He grasped my hip under my dress.
Desire swam in my stomach, roiling down low.
I should have gotten up. I should have moved from the bed, gotten up, and left him there to pass out.
Instead, I whispered, “Show me,” my eyes going to the sheet draped over his hips.
Even in his state, Blake understood, and didn’t hesitate.
My heart pounded as he rose onto his knees, and when the sheet fell down, only his naked body remained, his cock taut.
My stomach swooped with adrenaline at the sight of it. It further hardened before my eyes, a drop of liquid forming at the tip.
Blake gripped his length in his hand. “This is how much I want you, Cassandra.” He squeezed it so the beaded liquid dropped onto my bare thigh, marking me.
I let out a little sound—I wanted to taste it. I wanted to taste him. I wanted everything—my whole body cried for it; my underwear was already wet, soaked through for him. But when I looked up at his face, met his gorgeous, caramel eyes, I saw the Blake Harrington from the cover of that magazine. The professional. My consultant.
The fake married man.
A drunk man with impaired faculties, who wouldn’t remember this tomorrow.
“Blake,” I said. “Stop.”
It was the hardest thing I’d ever said, but it was the right thing. I couldn’t do this, even if he wouldn’t remember it tomorrow. Especially because he wouldn’t remember it tomorrow.
He didn’t argue, just closed his eyes. “Okay,” he said. Then he gave himself one long stroke of his cock. It was so hot I had to stop myself from reaching for it.
Then Blake pulled the sheet back up, lying back down on the bed. “If you change your mind, I’m right here.” He held open one arm, and I hesitated, then lay back down, resting my head on his shoulder. I inhaled him; his soap, the whiskey, and his own distinct scent, which made my chest hurt.
At some point I fell asleep because when I blinked my eyes open, the clock said it was three in the morning. Blake was curled around me, one arm under my head, the other wrapped around my waist, possessive in his sleep.
Carefully, I pulled his arm off me and slid off the bed, pulling the blanket up over his sheet. He snored as he turned over, but didn’t wake. I found my purse and pulled out our contract, leaving it on the bedside table, along with a glass of water, and two of the painkillers I kept in my bag.
