When I raise my head and look at her she is staring at me, speechless with disbelief and horror. Suddenly she seems to find her strength, and raising herself on her elbows, she stamps her feet on the carpet and pushes hard and away from me. I grab her foot and she kicks out with the other. I grab that one too and pull her toward me. She slides helplessly along the carpet, like a rag doll toward me. Her hands flail.
‘Don’t,’ I growl. ‘I smelt a man on you.’
She stops fighting. When her face is very close to mine she closes her eyes. ‘I kissed Jack.’
That cuts me. I take a sharp breath. ‘Why?’
She opens her eyes and stares at me. ‘Because he is leaving for a war-torn country. Because I may never see him again. Because he asked me and he has never asked me for anything before,’ she sobs. Tears flow freely. I have never been able to resist her tears.
I scoop her up in my arms ‘Shh… I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ I croon.
But I cannot make her stop. The tears run quickly down her temples.
‘Please don’t cry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just can’t bear thinking of you with anyone else. I don’t even want you in the same room with other men,’ I confess.
‘What is happening to us, Blake?’ she whispers. She sounds scared. I have frightened her with my aggression.
‘Nothing is happening to us. I just lost my head for a moment. I didn’t think. It was pure instinct.’
‘What’s going to happen when the forty-two days are up, Blake?’
Not that again. I can’t tell her anything. Even what I have just done is incriminating. He will know when he sees the tapes that she is special. He will see me lose control. I will simply have to be more careful from now on.
‘I don’t know,’ I tell her, ‘but will you trust me that everything I do is in your best interests?’
‘And what is in my best interests, Blake?’
I can see that it is tearing her up inside. My heart feels heavy. How I wish I could tell her? But I can’t. Too risky. Strange, how much I want to tell her. I’ve never wanted to make another human being happy before. ‘In thirty-one days you will know.’
Gently, I start kissing her eyelids, her cheeks that still smell of him and her mouth. I kiss her hard, force her lips open and thrust my tongue into her mouth, making her suck my tongue. Possessively, staking claim on what is mine, erasing the mark, even the memory of his mouth. My hands unbutton her blouse, cup her breasts. She lets me lift her so I can undo her bra clasp. I pull the blouse out of her skirt. It slips easily from her shoulders. The skirt follows.
I claim her on the floor beside the front door.
To anyone watching or listening let it be known: this is my woman.
Hey you awesome people,
Sadly, we have reached the end of the Lana and Blake story. When I began this journey back in the autumn of 2013, I had no idea where it might lead, not even if I would still be writing books one year on.
It was always my hope that my readers would find the characters of Lana and Blake endearing, but never did I imagine they would have such a strong connection with you. I am truly humbled by your loyalty to this series and for all your reviews, emails, and words of encouragement thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are like my dear friends now and for you I am writing something new.
Below are my forthcoming releases. Until the back of the next book I wish your life to be filled with great stories and unforgettable characters.
Big, big kiss to all...
Georgia
One
Billie Black
‘Fucking kids,’ I swear and bury my head under the pillow, but the irritating ringing of the doorbell continues mercilessly. The desire to go out and throttle them is so strong it makes me grit my teeth.
I pull myself out from under my pillow abruptly with a frown. Hang on a minute. I no longer live in the poor end of Kilburn, and there are no kids roaming the corridors annoying people on Sundays here. Also, I have no debts left so it can’t be debt collectors either. Not that those lazy fuckers will work on Sundays.
I get out of bed and, walking barefoot to the front door, curiously put my eye to the spy hole.
Whoa!
I draw back hastily, and press my hand to my shocked belly. This is far worse than any debt collector. By far worse. The bell rings again and holds. The sound is loud and insistent. It’s not going to go away. I turn my head and look at myself in the mirror on the wall. My hair is a spiky rat’s nest. I pull my fingers viciously through the unruly mess, but it does not improve. The bell goes again. Oh, fuck it! Whatever. I don’t care, anyway. I take a deep breath, rearrange my face into one of impatient exasperation and fling open the door.
Cor… Look at that. Tight black T-shirt packed hard with muscles, he fills the corridor like the Incredible Hulk, only he is all blond, and he makes little kitty clench tight even on a Sunday. Damn this man to hell. How can anyone look this good at this time of the morning?
He removes his finger coolly off my doorbell and smiles a devastatingly attractive smile, before letting his gaze, all wicked and sexy, start roving down my body. It’s like having melted chocolate poured all over me. I want to lick myself. Keep it together now.
‘What do you want?’ I demand aggressively.
‘To fuck you senseless.’
I don’t succeed in stifling the gasp that rises into my mouth. The cheek of the man is astounding. Last night he brazenly introduces me to his girlfriend, and this morning he stands on my doorstep wanting a legover! I feel a fine rage in my veins.
‘Fuck off, you cheating skunk,’ would, as Ali down the sweet shop would say, be giving him too much face. ‘Piss off, I don’t want you to fuck me senseless,’ would be a lie. So: I nod, and move quickly to slam the door in his lazily smiling face. With lightning speed he lays his palm firmly against the wood and resolutely pushes his way in. I am engulfed by the smell of his freshly showered body. Probably washing off her smell, I think sourly. I don’t do the undignified thing and attempt to fight against such a male show of strength. I will decimate him with pithy wit instead.
Inside, he looks as out of place as a rhino in a China shop.
‘The polite thing to do would be to offer me some tea,’ he says, one blond eyebrow arching.
I cross my arms over my chest. ‘I’m actually not feeling very polite at the moment.’
He flashes a pearly white grin: wolfish in the extreme. The guy is a walking sex bomb. ‘That’s just grand,’ he says. ‘We can be impolite together.’
Pithy wit deserts me. ‘Don’t make me punch you in the face.’
‘You were the best lay I ever had.’
My eyes widen. The surge of pleasure I experience irritates me. I pretend to laugh dryly. ‘Is that supposed to be some sort of compliment?’
‘Yeah, and a goddamn fine one too.’
Before we go any further, let me first tell you that this man is good in bed. And I mean he’s really, really good. Like out of this world good. He butterflyed my legs and went to work on my girly bits with the precise dedication of a Swiss watchmaker until I nearly fainted with pleasure. And believe me, I’m the expert in muff diving, since I have been for most of my life a lesbian.