went in.
“You invited your brothers on our date?” I asked him skeptically. “I don’t think you’re good at this.”
A smile played over his lips. “It’s a date. You admitted it.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Does that mean you might kiss me good night at the end of our date?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, which hunched his shoulders in a way that was ridiculously sexy. We were standing so close together, I could see the golden flecks in his amber eyes. There was an increasingly-familiar throb between my thighs.
“Probably not. You’ll be all sweaty from moving my stuff all day.”
His smile widened. “Maybe I look good sweaty.”
I was sure he looked good sweaty. I could just imagine that tall, powerful body, beaded with sweat. Little beads of sweat, trickling slowly down his hard pecs, the ridged abs I was willing to bet were hidden underneath his shirt.
“Maybe you do,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean you’d taste good.”
I said that louder than I meant to. The little old lady standing in front of us turned around and glared at me.
He waved to her. Blake was unabashed. I punched him in the arm.
“Don’t embarrass me,” I whispered.
“Everyone needs a hobby,” he shot back.
I was flustered when we reached the counter. Blake did that to me.
“What can I get you?” Julian greeted us cheerfully from behind the counter.
Blake started to say something, but I was desperate to get out of the cafe and into the relative safety of the backseat. I’m a cat—I’m not meant to spend this much time around people.
“Four unicorn hot chocolates, please,” I said.
Blake raised an eyebrow at me. “Pussy cat, I need some caffeine to deal with your smart mouth.”
“I’ll add espresso shots,” Julian promised.
“There you go,” I told Blake. “Espresso shots. You’ll like it.”
“Is that a promise or an order?”
“However you want to take it.”
He glanced around the shop. It was early on Sunday morning and the indignant granny had just stepped out with her coffee order. The shop was empty except for Julian, who was focused on pulling espresso.
Blake caged me with his arms, leaning against the countertop. I was pinned between the hard counter and his just-as-hard, muscular body. My heart raced again, my body tense…but not with fear. With desire.
He leaned close to me, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You’re welcome to try to order me around, Tiger. But if you want to play with me, you have to promise not to run away if you lose a round.”
I stared up into those gorgeous eyes. “I’m not running anywhere, Blake. And in the unlikely scenario… if… I were to lose one, there’s always another round.”
He grinned, a slow smile as he looked at me as if he might lick me, might devour me, and my body ached for him to try.
But all he said was, “Good.”
He straightened from the counter as Julian turned around. The two of us were standing there, more or less innocently, as Julian brought out drinks over.
Blake looked cool and self-possessed, but I noticed he was suddenly hard, his cock pressing against the front of his jeans, and that made my cheeks flush. Even hotter. I tucked my hair behind my ears; those wayward curls were always everywhere. I felt too warm, my breasts heavy. I shouldn’t be so easily aroused by Blake—it didn’t make sense.
I’d barely wanted sex with Brad, and we’d been together for years.
Brad and his sex-sweats.
I was willing to bet that Blake was a lot sexier sweaty. And a lot sexier in bed. And his commanding nature—maybe I could relish that. Not submit, necessarily, but savor the push-and-pull between us.
“Have a happy Sunday,” Julian said cheerfully.
I smiled at him before I licked some of the sprinkle-topped whipped cream off the top of my drink. “You say that like Sunday is a holiday.”
He glanced at Amber, who had just stepped out of the back. “When you’re in love, maybe every day is a holiday.”
Blake laughed. “Maybe, man,” he said, his tone easy-going. He touched the small of my back as I waved goodbye to Amber and he steered me out of the café.
“Why’d you laugh?” I asked as we checked for traffic and then he urged me forward, his hand still on the small of my back, toward the truck across the street. “Julian probably meant that. They’re adorably in love.”
“He probably did,” he agreed. “But love’s not the same for everyone, right? You’re a prickly pain in the ass, Lily. And I’m