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She gave him a quick kiss, using all the willpower in her body to keep it as platonic and innocent as she could.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the problem. Blake was.
Because the second she started to pull away, he reached for her, gripping the nape of her neck, holding her in place while he stripped all the platonic out, replacing it with a kiss so passionate, Erika felt instantly light-headed.
She jerked when his tongue touched hers, but the shock didn’t linger. How could it? Blake was kissing her senseless. Every reasonable thought fled as she slid her tongue out to meet his, her fingers gripping his thick hair, while Blake twisted her head so he could deepen the kiss.
Erika wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but by the time she managed to regain her wits and pull away, she knew without a doubt they’d let it go on way too long.
She straightened, her gaze locked with Blake’s. They were both breathing heavily after depriving themselves of air while they’d kissed like the plane was going down.
“We took that too far,” she whispered, when the silence lingered.
She expected Blake to agree, but instead, he frowned.
“Blake,” she said, desperate for him to say something. Anything.
“I’m a sore loser,” he repeated.
She wasn’t sure what to make of that…because it suddenly didn’t feel like he was talking about the game anymore.
Especially when he added yet another apology—and a wicked grin that belied it. “Sorry, Erik.”
His cocky smile and use of her nickname calmed her nerves about stepping over the line—again. Enough that she could walk away. “Good night, Balakay.”
She locked his apartment door behind her, walking over to her own. Once she was inside, she leaned against her door, stroking her lips with the tips of her fingers, much like she had earlier on the couch.
She’d wished for a spark.
Well, she’d gotten one.
Unfortunately, it was with the wrong guy.
CHAPTER FIVE
Blake flipped through the channels, not landing on anything. He was too distracted. Three days had passed since he’d foolishly planted one on Erika, letting his damn jealousy get the better of him.
She’d gone on dates since moving in across the hall, so he wasn’t sure what was different about this Doug tool. Maybe it was because that guy had somehow managed more than one date—or the fact she hadn’t told him about any of them.
There were precious few secrets between him and Erika, so the idea that she’d hidden this guy—on purpose or not—bothered him. He liked knowing what was going on in her life, liked being her confidante, and he hated that she was dating some boring financial analyst named Doug.
Glancing over his shoulder, his gaze zeroed in on today’s square in the digital organizer. The two wall-mounted screens were the first thing Erika had bought them after they’d decided to co-parent Corky. He had one in his kitchen, and the other was in hers. The things linked so whenever she added something to hers, it showed up on his.
She was nothing if not organized, the woman in possession of not one, not two, but three planners, as well as countless colored pens and a stack of stickers as long as his arm. She fucking loved organizers, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when she outfitted them with the digital ones.
He had to admit they were pretty cool. The things were touchscreen, so it was easy to add and delete things as needed. Originally, the plan had been to simply use the shared organizers to post their work schedules so they would know who had Corky each night and when to plan ahead for nights when they’d need to hire Ashley to dog sit. However, he’d noticed that more and more information was being added to the organizers lately, including their day-to-day plans, like pizza nights with the gang, appointments, and—he sighed—apparently Erika’s dates.
Yesterday, he’d awoken to see a new item written under today’s date, proclaiming her dinner/movie plans with fucking Doug. It had already been his night to keep Corky, so he wasn’t sure why she added it. Maybe it was because the woman seriously couldn’t hold herself back when it came to writing things in her organizers.
Or maybe it was supposed to be a subtle message to him.
After all, Erika was the one who’d insisted from day one that the two of them should simply remain friends. And Blake hadn’t had a problem going along with that…until lately.
During the past few weeks, he’d started blurring lines, like the kiss and the masturbation lesson, while giving into—fuck—feelings he shouldn’t have for his best friend.
Blake blamed his prolonged bachelorhood on his job. He was on the road several nights a week, and when he’d first been drafted, he’d been too enamored with the countless puck bunnies lining up to warm his bed to consider settling down with one woman. Why eat cheeseburgers every night when there was steak and salmon and lasagna and a million other delicious things to sample?
But after ten years of dining from the all-you-can-eat buffet, he was hungry for something more, something meaningful. There was such a thing as too many choices, and lately all Blake wanted was comfort food.
