Chapter 10
Blake's accusation sizzles in the short distance between us. His words are stated in a tone of raw, bold confidence, one that automatically encourages me to refute against it.
Jealous? My boss thinks I'm jealous...of what? Him and his nasty boyfriend? Him and the probably dozens of men that he touched before his boyfriend? Or the fact that I'm not one of those men who's been touched by him?
Ha! Fat chance.
To all of the above.
Then again, there's a weird, niggling emotion that pierces me at the thought of seeing Blake and his boyfriend together. It's one that makes me hot and angry, yet vulnerable and anxious all at once. I've never felt jealousy before, and my jaw works itself tighter and tighter wondering if this is it.
I glower at him.
"Jealous? You wish."
My voice sounds as broken as a crumbling cracker as it's being smashed against someone's palm. Blake's eyes slowly travel down my face until settling on my mouth.
His expression is serious and my stomach quivers. My back presses against the wall of the elevator. I'm trapped. Blake knows it, too. My pulse quickens through my veins, and Blake lowers his head to reach my level. His lips hover dangerously close to mine and my mouth waters.
This is normally the time during an intimate moment with a woman that I seal the deal with a kiss. Now though, with a pair of masculine lips so close to my own, everything is jumbled. Every movement and every thought of mine is riddled with uncertainty. So I remain still – still and waiting. Waiting for my first kiss with -
Ding.
My breath hitches when the elevator doors open.
The noise freezes Blake in place, and I don't dare move a muscle. For reasons completely unknown and unexplainable to me, I want this to happen. I want to know what it would feel like having Blake's lips fighting for dominance against my own.
I've never wanted something like this before, but right now, in this moment, my body seems to be aching for it. My raging boner is proof enough of that.
Blake's serious expression relaxes enough for a daring smirk to spread across his lips.
"Say it," he commands just above a whisper. "Say it nice and slow so I can savor every word."
"Say it....?"
"That you're jealous."
My lips part, but all that comes out is a flustered sigh. Blake's smirk darkens, and without hesitation he pulls me from the elevator. My legs feel weak and wobbly as he drags me behind him, his grip becoming tighter and tighter around my masculine wrist. He doesn't stop until we're in the living room of the suite. Blake closes the door behind us and turns me to face him.
His hand drops away from me, but the ghost of his fingertips still manage to tease the blonde hairs of my wrist. The two of us stand face to face, less than a foot apart from one another. My pulse echoes in my eardrums, an internal siren pleading with me to stop. To come to my senses.
But I can't.
Blake takes a tentative step towards me, sliding his hand around my waist. Every movement is calculated and precise, a hunter utilizing restrained caution before attacking its prey. When I don't protest, Blake tightens his fingers around my hip. It's a classic move, one I've pulled on countless women before.
Yet now it's being done to me. By a man.
With just the tips of his fingers he draws my body closer to his. The warmth of his chest collides with mine. His torso is hard, firm, and muscular, so unlike the feminine softness that I'm used to. It feels weird. But kind of good.
"Look at me, Callum," Blake says in a voice that sends a shiver down my spine.
I glance up at him, and the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable. It makes the echoes in my ears intensify. Blake brings up his free hand to grab a hold of my chin, tilting it up to become level with his own.
"Good," Blake muses under his breath. "Now, my patience is wearing thin. Admit you're jealous."
"Or else?"
Blake's hungry eyes take on a sinister gleam. I stare back at him. Blink. Warmth from both embarrassment and desire pool into my cheeks and down my neck.
"I may be a lot of things," I say, managing to regain my footing. "But jealous isn't one of them."
"Well then," Blake says and his lips curl into a predatory smile. "It looks like I'll have to pull it out of you the hard way."
His grip around my hip tightens, and his lips come crashing down to mine. The roughness of his five o'clock shadow scrapes against my skin, a stark contrast to the softness of his lips as they skillfully move against mine.
My erection starts to throb as his tongue slips into my willing mouth, sliding against my tongue with a sense of expertise and dominance. It's so unlike the kiss of a woman. It's rougher, harder, and filled with a heated passion that is enough to drive a helpless moan up the length of my throat.
Blake stills for a brief moment. The corners of his mouth tighten into the semblance of a smile. I may be able to hide my jealousy, but after that ridiculous moan of pleasure, there's no way I can deny my enjoyment of what's happening between us. If Blake had any doubt before, he's clearly aware now that this kiss is affecting me. A lot.
How. Fucking. Embarrassing.
I half expect him to stop and laugh. Another piece of me thinks he'll push me away and make some snarky, condescending comment. After hearing my rather primal reaction, however, Blake seems to only be spurred on further.
He pushes his tongue further into my mouth. Teeth scrape against teeth, our tongues dancing against the other in a battle for control. His masculine scent overpowers my senses, enough to make me lose the willpower over my hands as they reach forward to touch him. My fingers move along his arms, muscular arms not so different from my own.
Normally arms like this intimidate me, frustrate me even. This time, all I can picture is what it would feel like if he was pinning me against the wall with those strong arms.
Blake nips at my bottom lip. His teeth graze over the supple flesh, and he draws it into his mouth, sucking on it so hard that it starts to hurt. The hint of pain is intoxicating. Out of reflex, my hips move forward to meet his. When I do, though, a boner similar to my own presses against my khakis.
I freeze.
My eyes snap open and reality comes crashing back into focus. I shove Blake away from me with every ounce of strength I can muster from my trembling arms. He's caught off guard and stumbles a few feet away from me.
Bewildered.
My bottom lip feels like it's pulsing, a constant reminder that it was locked between Blake's teeth just moments ago. His expression is soft, his normally dark eyes now drenched with the richness and warmth of desire.
He straightens his spine and tries to get close to me again. The approach he uses this time is far less menacing than the last. This time it's driven solely by lust and unquenched desire. This approach scares me even more.
I slap his hand away when he tries to touch me again.
"What the hell is the matter with you?"
I sound angry, I know I do, and it's this anger that gives Blake reason to pause. He retracts his hand, and it slowly falls back down to his side.
I back up another step. "Have you lost your mind? I'm not gay."
A beat of silence passes.
"I'm not gay - do you hear me?"
"Yes," Blake responds quietly. "I hear you."
I point a finger at him accusingly. "And everything you just made me do....that was fucking disgusting."
The words actually feel awful to say. Bitter words falling from swollen lips. Because truthfully? I wasn't forced into anything. I wanted it and enjoyed it – every last second of it.
A light crease forms between Blake's eyebrows. An emotion akin to hurt slips onto his face, just long enough for me to realize my words weren't just awful to say. They were awful to hear, too. The sight makes bile stir in the pit of my stomach. As quickly as the emotion shows on Blake's face, however, it vanishes behind a veil of practiced indifference.
"And even if I was gay," I say, taking another measured step away from him. "I'm not one of your fag boys. So keep your hands off me. I don't want you."
Small crinkles form around Blake's eyes. The warmth in his gaze is long gone, a distant memory just as the feeling of his lips pressed against mine. I want to eat the words that are now becoming painfully stale in the open air.
As Blake turns a cold shoulder to me, however, I realize taking back my words won't do any good.
The damage has already been done.
"Understood, Callum," Blake says, his voice emotionless and cold. He reaches for the door, not bothering to waste another glance back in my direction. "Have a good evening."