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As wonderful as that sounded, Erika really did need to put up at least a token bit of resistance…if only to make herself feel as if she wasn’t completely weak where Blake was concerned. “I don’t think I’d be very good company tonight. You’d probably be better hanging with Tank.”
Blake gave her a pointed look. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because contrary to what you think, we’re not done talking about last night and this morning.”
“Blake—” she started, way too weary to rehash any part of the past twelve hours.
“I didn’t like waking up alone this morning, Erik. Why did you sneak out?”
She knew her escape wouldn’t go unnoticed or uncommented on, but she’d been banking on having time to get her thoughts in order during a hot shower. She did her best thinking under the jets.
“I didn’t sneak out,” she argued. “I was just getting on with my day. What reason would I have had for sticking around?”
Blake clearly didn’t like her question, his jaw clenching slightly. Rather than respond with words, his answer came in the form of action.
He pulled her to him, his lips meeting hers in a kiss so incendiary, Erika forgot all about the cold.
This kiss was the least-friendly, least-platonic kiss in the history of kissing.
Erika raised her arms, wrapping them around his neck, feeling the need to hold on for dear life. My God, he could kiss.
As his lips literally devoured hers, his hands slipped beneath her jacket to caress her back, tickle her waist, fondle the sides of her breasts. Every touch felt less like an exploration and more like a claiming, and she was suddenly pissed at herself for putting on such a thick sweater.
What felt like hours later, he broke the kiss, placing his forehead against hers, grasping her hand and drawing it to the front placket of his jeans, letting her feel his very—VERY—erect dick tenting the front of his jeans. “I had a very good reason for you to stick around.”
Erika didn’t have a clue how to respond to that, so she didn’t. Instead, she stared at him, wondering if she looked as shell-shocked as she felt.
“Come on. It’s too cold out here.” Blake turned them back in the direction of their building, neither of them speaking. When they reached their floor, Blake handed her Corky’s leash. “I need to grab a quick shower. A cold one,” he added with a wink. “Then head to practice. I’ll meet you at your place for dinner around six.”
She was shaking her head even before he finished speaking, even though nothing he’d said indicated that she was being given a choice. “Blake, I really don’t think?—”
“Good,” he interrupted. “Keep on not thinking, because we’re having dinner together. We can order something from DoorDash. Your choice.”
Erika intended to continue the argument, but Blake was too quick—or maybe determined was the better word. “Really, Blake. I?—”
He walked away and entered his apartment, closing the door behind him before she could finish.
“Stubborn man,” she muttered, more to herself than Corky. Letting herself into her apartment, she leaned against the door, searching for something that no longer existed.
Her willpower.
Between the storm, losing Corky, and Doug’s attack, she was out of steam. But more than that, she was tired of fighting against something she really, really wanted.
Blake had accused her of depriving herself for years.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she was going to ignore all those solid reasons for why she shouldn’t sleep with the sexiest man she’d ever known.
Tonight, she was going to give herself what was certain to be an evening she would never forget.
Tonight, she was throwing all caution to the wind because she was tired and sad and so fucking lonely.
Then, come morning…
Well, she’d figure that out tomorrow.
