Unwritten (A Beachwood Bay Love Story Book 11) Read online

  “And I can’t think with you looking like that,” Blake growls.

  “Like how?” I force my eyes open. He’s staring straight back.

  “Like you want me inside you right now.”

  Oh. My. God.

  “Come on.” Blake finally drags his touch away and takes my hand. “My brother keeps an apartment here in the city. He’s traveling, he won’t be there.”

  An apartment. A locked door. A bed.

  My legs are weak, but somehow I pull myself upright again and take a shaking step after him.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  His question stops me in my tracks. I can see in his eyes he’s barely holding it together too, but still, the fact he’s asking again makes everything click into place.

  This is Blake. My Blake. And whatever happens next, it’s what I’ve wanted all along. “I’m sure.”

  I take his hand, and lead him outside.

  The cab ride is exquisite agony. I swear, you can see sparks in the air between us, ready to combust. I sit way over on my side of the seat, trying to get my racing pulse under control. I want to be in control for this, to savor every moment, but it’s hard. I’ve never felt a desire so strong, never had my body react this way to anyone, not even in my wildest dreams.

  I send a shy glance over to Blake, wondering if he’s feeling the same way. He’s watching me with a dark intensity in his stare, his blue eyes fierce in the dark of the backseat.

  “Come here,” he says quietly. I shiver, my stomach tied up in knots as I slowly slide across the seat, into the warm curve of his embrace.

  He dips his head and trails a soft line of kisses up the bare column of my throat.

  Oh…

  I must have moaned aloud, because Blake’s body tenses against me. But he doesn’t stop his lips’ gentle exploration, his breath hot against my skin. Gently, his mouth whispers along my collarbone, every touch sending new sparks of molten silver radiating out through my entire body.

  I sink against him, and now his hands are gently slipping inside my coat. He skims over the curves of my body, soft as the silk that slides against my skin, never touching long, just enough to make every nerve and sense come screaming to life as his lips continue their tortuous slow conquest of my neck.

  I fall back against the seat in a dizzy haze. The neon lights of the city blur outside the windows as Blake’s magic hands and lips and tongue reduce me to electricity, a live-wire sparking with pent-up need. By the time the cab jolts to a stop, I swear I’m already gone, past all rational thought.

  “We’re here?” I lift my head, blinking.

  Blake gives me a hot smile. “We’re here.”

  He pays the driver a generous tip and then pulls me from the car. We stumble, laughing, into the lobby of the building. I see flashes of gleaming marble and sleek, modern design, but nothing registers except Blake, only Blake. The elevator doors close behind us, and then his lips are on mine again.

  Yes. I kiss him hard, stumbling back against the wall. His tongue slides, hot against mine, probing deep in an intimate kiss. “Goddamn, you’ve been driving me crazy,” Blake breathes, pulling away. “I swear, Dash wants to kill me, all the takes I’ve ruined because I can’t get you out of my head.”

  I giggle. “How do you think I feel?” I grip the neck of his T-shirt in my fist, pulling his face down to eye-level. “You’ve been ignoring me. We had these amazing kisses, and then you acted like I didn’t exist.”

  He groans, kissing me again, hard and sweet. “I’m sorry, baby, I tried. But you’re impossible to ignore.”

  I feel a glow, deep inside. “So don’t,” I scold him. “Don’t act like I’m just some girl. I know you better than that, remember?”

  For a moment, Blake’s expression shifts. He blinks, staring down at me, and I swear he looks the same way he did when I was trying to teach him how to ride: that same discomfort, that same frustrated edge, like he’s in over his head.

  My heart sinks. What did I say?

  I quickly reach up and kiss him again, pressing my whole body against his, needing to erase whatever mistake I just made. Blake resists for a split-second, but then he’s holding me tight again, devouring my mouth until the elevator doors ding open, and he pulls me down the hall to a doorway at the end.

  “Wait a sec,” he whispers, unlocking the door. He pushes it open and edges inside the dark apartment. “Ash?” he calls. “Hey, bro, you home?”

  Silence.

  Blake turns back to me, grinning. “All clear.”

  I follow him inside. He flips the lights on, illuminating a gorgeous penthouse with incredible views of the city. “Wow,” I gasp. “Where have you guys been hiding this place?”

  Blake chuckles. “Ash is pretty protective of his bachelor pad.”

  “I can see why.” I take a tour around the huge, open-plan living space, trailing my fingertips over the polished surfaces. It’s all chrome and glass, with sleek leather couches and spotless, minimal decor. “Tegan would throw one hell of a party if she got her hands on the keys.”

  “Which is exactly why Ash never lets her stay.” Blake strolls over to the bar that’s set up in the corner. “Want a drink?”

  “Yes, please.” I feel a sudden shiver of nerves. Now that we’re alone in this silent, gleaming apartment, my bravery is faltering. The hot, frenzied make-out of the club seems like a lifetime ago. Here, there are no shadows to hide in, no dark corners to get carried away and ignore the epic reality of what’s about to happen right now.

  Me and Blake, alone at last.

  Blake pours us a drink and comes to join me on the couch. The huge expanse of glass windows shows the city laid out before us, a glittering grid of gold and red, headlights on the highway. I take a sip, hyper-aware of his body draped so casually beside mine. The drink hits the back of my throat, cranberry cut with an edge. A cosmopolitan.

  “You remembered,” I turn, surprised.

  Blake smiles. “Are you kidding? You and Tegan drove us crazy that summer you decided to start drinking. We had like, a dozen family meetings trying to figure out what to do. You were only, what, seventeen?”

  “It’s not like we were going out to clubs every night,” I laugh, kicking off my heels and curling my legs up under me to get more comfortable. “We just watched a lot of Sex and the City and decided that if we were going to be sophisticated women of the world, we needed to have a signature cocktail.” I smile, remembering how we would sneak booze from the liquor cabinet at their house and mix up crazy concoctions with fruit juice and syrups. “Anyway, you and Dex were out getting wasted long before we ever tried.”

  Blake shakes his head. “That was different.”

  “Why? Because you’re guys?” I challenge lightly.

  “Well, yeah.”

  I laugh, but he shakes his head. “You don’t understand. Tegan was the baby of the family, it was our job to protect her. And you…” He stops, but I know what he was about to say.

  I was part of the deal. Another little sister in need of protection.

  I look away. This is all wrong: the last thing I should be doing is reminding him of the girl I used to be. I need to show him the woman I am now.

  I get to my feet. “Music?” I ask. “Ash has got to have this place tricked out with some hi-tech system.”

  Blake smiles, relaxing again. “Over in the corner.”

  I walk over, flipping through the iPod settings until I find a sultry jazz singer I recognize. “I love this album,” I tell him, as the first low, sexy notes filter through the surround-sound speakers. “I saw her play in Paris, in this smoky little club. It was great.”

  “You liked it there?” Blake asks.

  I nod, beginning to sway to the music. The alcohol is beginning to snake through my system, warming me from the inside out and making me forget all my nerves again. “Everyone complains that the French are so snooty and rude,” I smile, “but there’s something kind of great about it. No bullshit, you kno
w? The girls I worked with would always insult you to your face, rather than bitch behind your back.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” Blake smiles, watching me.

  I nod, letting the music slip through me, dancing alone in the middle of the room. “I’ve had enough of all that high school drama to last a lifetime. It was really great to be around women who just didn’t care.”

  If there’s one thing I learned away from home, it was how to be brave: to walk down the street with confidence, to speak up in meetings, and to have some faith in myself. That I belong, that I’m good enough.

  Now, I take every ounce of that bravery and fix Blake with a sultry smile. I slowly walk across the room towards him, still feeling the music in my hips, my whole body. I let it roll through me, not looking away for a second.

  Blake sits on the couch, watching me. God, I wish I could freeze-frame the way he’s looking at me: the desire in his eyes. It makes me even bolder as I reach him, dipping and swaying just out of reach. I let my eyes fall closed, taking a moment in the dark safety of my own mind as I dance.

  I feel the cool air drifting from an open window, the plush carpet beneath my bare feet. I feel my body, as alive and aware as I’ve ever been in my life before.

  And I feel him, watching me.

  Heat shimmers in the air between us, bringing goosebumps to my skin. Slowly, I open my eyes.

  Blake is standing right in front of me.

  My stomach turns a slow flip. It feels like he stepped out of the movie screen: the way the light falls across his chiseled jaw, his messy halo of blonde hair. And his eyes, those vivid blue pools that melted my heart a hundred times over, they’re finally fixed on me.

  Only me.

  I catch my breath, waiting for his frenzied kiss, but instead, he takes a step to close the distance between us. Blake takes my hand in his and slides the other to rest lightly at my waist. He pulls me gently against him.

  Then, like a dream, we’re dancing.

  I exhale in a sigh of pleasure, tilting my head against his shoulder. This isn’t the sweaty grind of a club, no, this is something far sweeter. Our bodies barely touching, his breath soft against my cheek. I can feel the heat of him, radiating, and my heart is beating so loudly I could swear he hears it too.

  He moves me gently, swaying in place. And every moment that passes, my body becomes more attuned to his. Every movement, every beat. To be so close without looking at him, kissing him, it’s a giddy temptation testing all my resolve.

  His fingertips grazing my hip. His thumb softly stroking light circles on my palm. Slowly, the tension coils, twisting tighter with every breath. The song ends, but we keep moving together, until my whole body is pulsing with awareness, electric and bright.

  Blake finally steps away from me. I sigh with regret, but the breath stills on my lips when I see the look in his eyes.

  Dark. Hot. Wanting.

  My stomach twists. He silently holds out his hand. I take it, and follow him down the hall.

  12.

  Blake leads me to one of the guest rooms and dims the light. It’s immaculate: nothing but a huge bed made with crisp white linens, and windows looking out on the neon city below.

  I shiver, eyeing the bed. It’s hitting me for the first time what’s about to happen, but before I can freak out, Blake takes my hand again. He drops a kiss on my palm, my wrist, the inside of my elbow. Slowly moving up my arm, melting my nerves with every touch.

  “Do you remember the first time you kissed me?” I blurt.

  Blake lifts his head. “I’m surprised you do,” he smiles. “You weren’t all that impressed.”

  “Are you kidding?” I laugh. “I was freaking out inside, I just wanted you to think I was cool.”

  Blake lifts one strap of my dress and slides it down over my shoulder. He bends his head, kissing the bare skin revealed. I gulp. “I had the biggest crush on you back then,” I admit in a hurried whisper.

  He stops. “I didn’t know that.” His blue eyes search mine for a moment, unreadable.

  Damn, I’m screwing this up again.

  Less talk, more make-out.

  I slide the other strap off, and let my dress fall to the floor in a ripple of silk. I step out of it, left in nothing but a matching set of black lace lingerie, garters and suspenders.

  That gets his attention again.

  Blake exhales, his gaze roving over me, drinking me in. The awe on his face gives me new confidence, and makes me feel sexier than ever. Back then, I was a girl who’d never been kissed, but now I’m a woman—with years of magazine articles and advice from the wildest girls in Paris on how to please a man.

  I step towards him and slowly run my hands down his chest. I lean in, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the warmth radiating from his body. One button, two, three… I slowly open his shirt, dropping tiny kisses across his bare chest, until I can pull the whole thing off him and toss it into a heap on the floor with my dress.

  God, he’s magnificent.

  In the dim light, his skin is burnished gold, his muscles taut under my roving palms. I stroke every inch, holding his gaze as my fingertips sweep across his skin. I watch his expression change, see the flinch as I gently brush his nipples; see the tension in his jaw as I swirl tiny circles over the smooth dip of his hips, right down to his belt.

  I slide my fingertips under his waistband. Suddenly, Blake grips me by the wrists and pulls my hands away, locking them behind my back. Then his mouth is on mine, hot and hard, kissing me into glittering oblivion.

  God.

  I moan against him, kissing him greedily, hungry for the taste of him and the wild passion of his lips, his mouth, his tongue. My head spins, and I writhe against his grip, but he keeps my arms trapped in place, yanking me tight against him and falling back so that we tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and hands and hot, searching mouths.

  I struggle again, wanting to touch him, but he rolls me under him, pinning me into the mattress with a delicious weight. I arch up, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist so I can grip him closer to me, so close I can feel the hard length of him, pressing between my thighs. I thrust against him, and he groans into my mouth, rolling us again so that I’m straddling him on top.

  I break away, gasping for air. He runs his hands over my legs, tracing the seam of my stockings and the lacy band of garter. “Where did you get these things?” he demands, his eyes dark with desire.

  “You like them?” I grin. I brush my hair back over my shoulders, and tilt my head, looking down at him. My hands tease over my bra, my breasts feeling swollen and tight under the fabric.

  Blake groans. “You’re driving me crazy,” he curses, and then he sits up, replacing my hands with his mouth as he kisses and sucks at my tender flesh through the bra.

  Pleasure shudders through me. God, how could anything feel this good? My head sinks back, and my eyes fall closed as Blake turns his attention to my other breast, teasing my nipple through the lace until I’m gasping.

  “Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m begging him for, but then he yanks down my bra and closes his mouth over my breast and the whole world contracts to just his hot, wet mouth and the delicious rasp of his tongue against my nipple. I clutch his head, arching up against him, delirious with the sensation. Blake growls against me, and then his hands are cupping my ass, grinding me into his lap, against his hard cock.

  I’m undone. It’s all I can do to hold on, swept up in the unfamiliar pleasure crashing through me, and this white-hot desire curling tighter inside, demanding release. I’m wet and aching by the time Blake lowers me to the bed again, reaching to unhitch my bra and toss it aside.

  He kisses his way slowly down my stomach.

  My breath catches. Even in this whirlwind of pleasure, I’m still so far out of my depth, I don’t know where to begin. His mouth grazes lower, lower, his tongue teasing along the lacy band of my panties. My thighs clench.

  Blake lifts his head. His eyes are glazed, a
nd his breath is ragged. “Is this OK?” he whispers, his fingertips stroking where his mouth just left off.

  I hesitate, then nod.

  “How about…more?” Blake’s mouth curls in a wicked grin. His hands slide lower, grazing across the apex of my thighs. Even through the silk of my panties, I feel his touch like electricity, shocking through my system. I gasp.

  His smile turns dangerous. “Is that a yes?” he whispers, stroking again, stronger. The pressure on my clit is incredible, and I can’t help moaning out loud.

  “Yes,” I shudder, my hips already rising towards his hands, but instead of touching me again—more, harder, there—Blake’s hands slowly smooth down my thighs.

  “First, I need to get you out of these stockings,” he growls. He unfastens one from its garter, and slowly, tortuously rolls it down my leg.

  I sink back into the pillows, reeling from the whisper of silk over my skin. Blake follows it down, dropping gentle kisses on the inside of my thigh, my knee, my calf…

  The heat twists, hotter inside of me. Every part of my body is screaming out for his touch, back where I need it the most, but Blake takes his time. He eases the stocking off my foot and licks up the inside arch, watching me the whole time with that hot, commanding stare.

  I grip the sheets and try to keep it together. I never knew I could be so turned on, not from someone just watching me like this, grazing my skin with his fingertips.

  “Blake,” I whisper, writhing on the bed. The ache between my thighs is unbearable. I need him there, I need him now.

  “Patience,” he murmurs, reaching to unhook my other stocking. He rolls it down my thigh, even slower this time.

  “Bastard,” I moan. “You’re enjoying this.”

  Blake chuckles, suddenly nipping the inside of my thigh in a gentle bite. “So are you.”

  He’s right. The anticipation is torment, but this is all new to me. Every touch, every sensation is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I want to savor them all, but the craving twisting deep inside me is making it impossible; demanding satisfaction, yearning for release.