tone of her voice. She’s clearly decided we don’t need to be so gloomy. “So congratulate me!”
It’s a demand. I can feel it in the air. She wants me to use my mouth, but not my words.
Blaire is motionless as I walk up to her. She’s just inches away from me. We both have the champagne glasses in our hands. They’re in the way, but neither of us wants to make any sudden movements.
My eyes meet hers. She has to tip her head back a little to look up at me. Her mouth parts, very slowly. I’m watching her every movement.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I was in your office that day,” I say.
Blaire sticks out her pink tongue to lick her bottom lip. I want it in my mouth. Can she see in my eyes how much I want her?
“It wasn’t…appropriate. So wrong on so many levels,” she says, but her voice is low and husky like she is reliving her orgasm.
I’m forcing myself to reevaluate. What am I doing here? I came here in order to end it. To remind myself that we can peacefully coexist. We can be neighbors, work together, and she can have a friendly relationship with Anya; despite what happened in her office.
But here I am, standing in front of her, battling every base instinct of mine; which is to devour her. And if something happens, we will both regret it immediately after.
“Yes, it was wrong. Shouldn’t have happened. I’m glad you put a stop to it when you did.”
My breath is falling on her face. I can even see the way it makes her eyelashes move. She flutters them at me. I can see inside her mouth. I want to taste the champagne on her tongue, leave a trail of it down her neck until I’ve covered her rosy nipple with my mouth.
“I…” She’s about to say something, but I cut her off.
I push against her abruptly, and she throws her arms around my neck. It happens in a split-second, but our mouths meet. She gasps, and I groan. I feel her bony hips digging into me while we kiss. More passionately, even more hungry than last time. She’s out of breath and panting; I can hear it in the way she is kissing me back.
I push her up against the wall of her living room and we kiss deeper. Harder. More intensely, but I have to stop. Our champagne glasses are on the floor. Shattered probably.
This was not the mission of my visit to her apartment, I didn’t plan this. It was supposed to be a truce. We were doing so well the last two days by avoiding each other. I shouldn’t have sent Anya away tonight.
I release her and step away.
“Goodnight, Blaire. I hope you sleep well,” I say and turn to walk away.
I can hear her breathing heavily behind me, but she doesn’t call out or stop me. Neither does she follow me to her door.
I guess we are both in agreement that this is a terrible idea.
I usually have the TV on for the financial news and some jazz playing in the background, but I don’t bother with either. My apartment has never seemed so quiet before. I miss Anya. I don’t know if I want her spending the night away again, not anytime soon.
I’m pacing around the apartment, trying to think about work and keep myself distracted from the raging hard-on in my pants.
I shouldn’t have gone over there. I thought I have a lot of self-control, but clearly, I don’t. At least not where Blaire is concerned.
There’s a knock on my door and I’m sure I’m imagining it. I walk into the hallway and listen for more. A few moments later, there’s another knock. Shit.
I look through the peephole and see her on the other side of the door. What is she doing here? She should know better. This isn’t the time to argue about what just happened. She needs to leave me alone and I need to take a cold shower.
She raps on the door again and I know I have no choice but to open up.
When I look into her face, I see how her eyes are glowing passionately. I can’t tell if she’s excited or angry. Maybe both.
“How dare you!” she hisses and storms into my apartment. I shut the door and turn, crossing my arms over my chest.
She is watching me closely. Almost accusingly.
“How dare I what, Blaire? What have I