Unwritten (A Beachwood Bay Love Story Book 11) Page 14
Zoey wraps her arms tight around her body, the way she always does when she’s feeling lost or alone. I know that about her. I know her. And I know that when she clenches her jaw and avoids my gaze, it’s because she’s trying not to cry.
I did this. How could I do this?
“It’s OK. If you want to go back to being friends. Just…tell me now,” Zoey adds quietly. “Please.”
The pained twist in her voice cuts me like a knife.
“Is that what you want?” I ask, numb. I should have known from the start this would never last. That’s what I told myself, all the time.
Everything falls apart. Good things never stay.
Care, even for a second, and it’ll be so much worse when it ends.
Zoey doesn’t reply.
“Is this what you want?” I demand again, hanging on by a thread. My whole life is falling apart, but suddenly the most important thing of all is this girl right here in front of me. This beautiful, brave, stubborn girl. I’ve been holding her at arm’s length for weeks now, I should be glad she’s giving me permission to go. But glad is the last thing I’m feeling, not in this chaos of anger and hurt and desperation.
She’s the only thing that matters. Only her.
“Answer me, Zoey,” I insist, trying to break through to her. “Dammit, I’ll go right now, just tell me, is this what you want?”
“No!”
Her cry cuts through the silence of the dimly lit room. Zoey turns back to me, her face blazing with emotion. “None of this is what I wanted! You push me away, then pull me back in. I don’t know what you want from me, how you even feel!”
I reel back, guilty.
“Zoey—”
“I can’t do this anymore,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t be with someone who won’t let me in. This could be something real, we could be something real, but not until you admit to yourself that you want it. So go,” she says, pointing to the door. Tears are clouding her eyes, but she doesn’t waver. “Because if you can’t even be honest with yourself, then you’re never going to be the man I need. The man I always thought that you were.”
Zoey pauses, and I swear I see her heart breaking right in front of me.
“Just go.”
I back away numbly.
She’s right, a cruel voice whispers in my mind. You’re not the man for her, you’ve already hurt her more than she can stand.
You can’t love her the way she deserves, you can’t be brave enough to let her in.
What are you waiting for? Just leave already.
I head for the door. But as I’m walking away, out of nowhere I remember that first day we met, out on the back steps at that fancy school of hers. Zoey was all alone, and I remember taking pity on her. She was just a lonely kid, I figured a few words of encouragement would mean a lot to her, so I stuck around. I shared a candy bar, and told her it would all get better. I enjoyed acting as if I had it all together, like I was older and wiser than her, someone with all the answers.
It was bullshit then, and it’s bullshit now. Zoey’s changed—she’s grown up and gotten her life together. She knows what she wants, and she’s brave enough to make a move. But I’m still just the same as I was back then: coasting by on charm and playing make-believe. Too hurt and scared to make a real connection. Still pretending like I don’t need more, and all the while, secretly waiting for it all to fall apart and prove me right.
I don’t want to live like this anymore.
My feet stop moving. My body turns. And before I can stop myself, my mouth opens, and the truth comes pouring out.
Not someone else’s script. Not a glib reply. But the truest thing I’ve ever told her.
“I’m scared, Zoey,” I admit. “I’m scared as hell. Because I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t know what to do.”
17.
Zoey
I stare at Blake in amazement. Of all the things he could have said, of all the words to say, I never saw this coming.
I never dared to dream.
“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” I clench my fists to keep from reaching for him. “Please.” I hear my voice waver, but I don’t care. “I need you to be real.”
“I am being real.”
In an instant, he closes the distance between us. Blake grips my hands tightly, and I can see the conflict in his eyes, the fevered anguish on his face. “God, Zoey, this is more real than anything I’ve felt before, and it scares me half to death. I can’t pretend with you,” he swears, “I can’t just blow you off like all the other girls. You know me, you know everything that’s happened, my family, my parents, all the darkness, and I…” He stops, frustrated, searching for the words. “I thought I could keep this casual, keep it safe. Be light, and breezy or whatever, stop you from getting under my skin. But it didn’t work, Zoey, I couldn’t keep away from you if I tried. You’re here, right here.”
Blake lifts my hand, pressing it to his heart, and I feel my own heart ache in answer.
I try to catch my breath, still not sure I can believe him. I thought that night we got together in the city would be the start of everything, but he pulled away. How can I be sure I won’t wake up tomorrow to find the bed empty?
How can I be sure my heart will be safe in his hands?
“I know you want to say the right thing,” I whisper. “I know that’s what you do. You want to make things better for everyone. But I can’t take you running hot and cold. You need to make a choice, Blake. For real this time.”
“I do,” Blake insists. His eyes blaze into mine, full of determination. “I choose you.”
I feel my walls crack open, and the last of my resistance falling away. I’ve never seen him like this—so open and vulnerable, hurting in plain sight. It moves me like nothing else that he’d show this side of himself to me.
That he’d trust me enough to try.
I slowly exhale, smoothing my hand over his wet shirt. I can feel his heart beating, fast beneath my fingertips.
What a heart this man has. So full of hope for everyone except himself.
If he can be brave, then I can too. I can tell him the secret I’ve been hiding all these years, the one that’s brought me to this moment, right now.
“I’ve been falling in love with you since the very first day we met,” I whisper.
Blake inhales in a rush. I can see the words sink in, the flare of relief and wonder in his eyes.
“Zoey…”
I reach up and lay my hand against the rough heat of his cheek. I’m scared of falling any deeper into this, falling and finding nobody there to catch me when I hit the ground, but I have to take this risk.
I have to fight for what I want.
“I’m here for you, Blake,” I promise. “I’m here if you’ll let me in. I swear, I won’t let you down. If you trust me, I’ll be there until the end.”
He holds my waist, holds me like a drowning man, clinging on for dear life. And when he kisses me, I can taste the fever in his blood, the wild singing of hope and relief, and every moment he’s carried himself alone—apart from everyone, pretending to be fine.
But there’s nothing pretend in these kisses. Nothing faked in the clutch of his hands on my wet shirt, the heat of our bodies pressing tighter. The deep, slow stroke of our tongues, as I drink him in, savor him, hold on just as tightly as he’s holding me.
I break away. “Come on,” I whisper, pulling him towards the bathroom. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes.”
Blake follows. The bathroom is tiny, barely room for the both of us, but it doesn’t matter. I reach to turn on the shower, and then tug his shirt over his head. Blake peels off my sweater, slow and reverent, his gaze fixed on mine. One by one, our clothing falls to the floor, until we’re both naked, stumbling back under the hot spray, steam fogging the glass around us.
I smooth my hands over his chest, leaning in to drop kisses over the chilled skin. Blake runs his hands through my wet hair, smoothing it d
own and lifting my head back to claim my lips again.
These kisses are deeper than anything I’ve known in my life before, charged with some new electricity, a vivid shimmering force that pulls the two of us together and takes my breath away. Slowly, the heat rises between us, water pouring over our bodies, the cold and distance and false starts melting away under the heat of this embrace.
I could kiss him forever, lose myself in this connection. Everything stripped away, nothing left between us.
No place to hide.
His hands slide lower, roaming slowly across my naked body. His fingertips explore my breasts, teasing my nipples into two aching peaks. I gasp, sinking into his touch as he bends his head and kisses my wet flesh, circling and lapping at the tight buds until the pleasure is almost too much to take.
Blake presses me back against the shower tiles and captures my mouth again. He kisses me hungrily as I run my hands across every bronzed inch of him, every muscle and ridge, every defined, solid plane.
I want all of him. Everything.
My hands close around his hard length and he groans, a deep desperate sound that sends a fresh wave of heat spiraling through my body and aching low between my thighs. As if sensing my need, Blake’s hand slides down my body, lower, lower…
There.
My mouth falls open in a silent gasp as his fingertips deftly stroke my tender clit. God, it feels so good. I answer with pressure, stroking him harder. Blake inhales a ragged breath. His eyes are locked on mine, dark with lust, holding me captive in his commanding gaze as he rubs deeper, sending pleasure slamming through my body. My legs go weak, but he holds me, pinned against the wall, sliding up inside me and curling his fingers just right.
Oh! My cry is lost against his hot mouth. He kisses me in a wicked rhythm, sliding his tongue deep between my lips as his fingers pulse inside. The hot water beats against our skin, and I lose track of everything except the slide of wet skin and hot hands and tension, the rasp of his breath and the glittering pressure building inside. Blake lets out a strangled curse, and then he pulls my hand away from him, pinning my wrist against the tile as he surges his fingers deeper inside me and curls them high, just right—
I shatter with a cry, clinging to his wet body as the hot water pulses over us, chasing my climax through my body until I surface, feeling new and raw and reborn.
Blake shuts off the water and carries me out of the shower. He sets me against the counter and towels me dry, reverently, every inch of my body smoothed under the soft fabric; every touch bringing my senses screaming back to life, so that when he finally lifts me in his arms and carries me through to the bedroom, the feel of his body pressed against me makes me weak, head spinning with fevered desire.
Blake lays me gently on the bed. His body is poised above me, bronzed and magnificent. I catch my breath, struck with the enormity of what’s about to happen.
Once we cross this line, there’s no going back.
“OK?” he whispers, reaching to gently cup my cheek. His eyes are full of tenderness—edged with a smoldering lust that sparks my own heated blood.
I answer him with a kiss, locking my arms around his neck and pulling him down to me, covering me, loving the weight of him, overwhelming and yet safe. He kisses me deeply, hungrily, his mouth moving over mine in a sensuous dance that seems to touch my very soul.
And that’s when I realize we’ve already crossed the line. I may not have given my body to him yet, but I gave him my heart a long time ago. And seeing him standing in the doorway tonight, drenched and desperate, trying so hard to be the good man I know he is, it only confirmed everything I already knew.
He’s mine, just as I belong to him.
My last nerves melt away, leaving nothing but the flare of need, echoing in every part of me. I slide my hands down over his naked back, reveling in his perfection, as Blake dips his head to kiss along the hollow of my neck and graze his mouth hotly over my breasts.
I moan, writhing under his touch. I can’t believe it, but I’m rising again, every touch and slide of his body against mine making the heat twist tighter, deep inside me. I lift his head away from me, gasping for air. “Do you have…?” I whisper.
His eyes flash with recognition. He nods, briefly leaving me to grab his wallet from his damp jeans on the floor. Then he’s back, lying beside me, running his hands and eyes over my body in a way that makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
Blake leans in to kiss me again, but I pull back, flushing. “I’ve never…” I stop, feeling a rush of embarrassment about my inexperience, but Blake only looks at me, a slow, heart-stopping grin spreading over his face.
“You waited?” he asks.
I nod, still feeling a little foolish. “For you,” I whisper. “I could have… I mean, there were guys, in Paris, but…” I bite my lip, remembering the times I came close, only to make my excuses and pull back from the edge. “I never wanted anyone the way I want you,” I confess, gazing into his eyes. “It’s always been you, Blake.”
He props himself on one arm beside me, gently taking my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. He holds my hand against his heart, so I can feel the thunder of his racing pulse. “I don’t know what I did to be so lucky,” he murmurs, his eyes full of emotion. “What it is you see in me.”
“You,” I tell him softly. “I see you.”
And then his lips are claiming mine, hot and sweet, as his body shifts to cover me again. I fall into his embrace, lost in the dazzling heat of his mouth, his hands, the thick nudge of him between my thighs. My blood races with life, with need, and it feels more natural than anything in the world to spread my legs wider and cradle him closer to me.
I want this. I need this.
Blake braces himself above me, and then his tongue is sliding deep in my mouth, and oh, I feel him, pushing inside. He holds back, trying to go slow, but the spark is an inferno now, raging deep, and I lock my legs around him, urging him deeper.
Blake groans against my mouth, and thrusts harder.
Yes.
The discomfort fades, replaced with the glorious friction of him, surging deep inside me. I rock up, finding his rhythm, matching him stroke for stroke. It feels incredible, as if nothing in the world is between us anymore. “Blake,” I gasp, overwhelmed. “Oh God,”
He answers me with another thrust. Harder. Deeper.
I whimper, feeling the sparks of pleasure, the friction rolling deep within. His body, the weight, the slide of our damp, sweaty skin. I can feel him, taste him; invaded, but consuming him; possessed, but taking everything he has.
I could lose myself in him forever.
“Zoey…” Blake gently turns my face up to look at him, holding me captive in the fire of his blue eyes. “Oh God, Zoey, you feel incredible.”
He strokes into me slowly, and God, I lose my mind. I grip his shoulders tightly, grinding up to take him deeper, thrusting on the edge of oblivion. Blake growls against me, and then something in him is unleashed. He surges inside me, pinning me down, rocking me closer with every thick, magnificent thrust. I can’t take anymore, the sensation is too much, too good. So good. I writhe against him, clenching from the inside, and then he reaches between us, stroking right there against my clit as his cock plunges deep inside me and fuck, it’s too much, the sweet pressure and thick friction slamming through me as I shatter apart with a scream.
Blake roars, grinding up inside me one last time before I feel his body break, shuddering into me as the pleasure takes us over and we fall, dizzy into the bliss. I hold him tight, and I never want to let him go.
18.
Blake
There’s no hiding this time.
No pulling back. No turning away.
This time, I give her everything.
I couldn’t pretend to keep my distance, even if I tried. Zoey pulls me under, until there’s nothing but the two of us, moving as one.
And I know nothing will be the same again.
19.
I surface from a dream, feeling deliciously tired. The windows are fogged, but I’m toasty warm, wrapped up in my duvet—
And Blake.
My heart skips. A tiny corner of my mind was worried I’d wake to find him gone like last time. Out of reach emotionally, even if he was right here in the room. But now, Blake yawns against me and slides his hands around from behind, tugging me back to nestle against him.
“Good morning,” he murmurs, his stubble scratching at my ear.
I wriggle happily, loving the feel of his body cocooning me. “Yes, it is.”
Blake kisses my neck, sending shivers through me. “I wish we could spend all day in bed.” His hands trace light circles on my stomach through my T-shirt. “I could call Dash, tell him I’ve got the flu…”
“No way!” I roll to face him, cradling his cheek in my palm. “There will be fifty people waiting on set for you. And anyway, the scene today is my favorite. The one where you make that big speech to her, to win her back? It’s so romantic.”
Blake grins. “You’re such a movie geek,” he laughs, kissing the tip of my nose. “Nobody else would kick me out of bed just to finish filming.”
“I know, I’m special.” I giggle.
His smile turns sincere. “Yes, you are.”
Blake’s lips meet mine, in a kiss so sweet I swear I melt right into him. We stay there, kissing, wrapped up in each other’s arms, warm beneath the covers, until suddenly, the alarm on my phone buzzes loudly.
I groan.
“You could have caught the flu too,” Blake murmurs temptingly, his hands sliding higher to cup my breast. “It’s very contagious…”
I waver, loving the feel of him, and this private world of our own. What happens on set today? Will he still want to keep us a secret, and hide what’s happened between us again?
As if reading my mind, Blake pauses. “You’re right,” he says, dropping a chaste kiss on my lips. “We should get going. I owe you breakfast, remember? How about we stop by the diner on the way to the set?”