That girl had somehow gotten under my skin. I couldn’t get her out of my fucking head. The noises she made when my fingers were inside her. I could get used to that sound every night. Damn, I was already beginning to miss her, knowing that this might be one of our last nights together.
I went home to shower and change after work and made sure my brother had gotten to his buddy’s house for the night. There’d been a note from my mother that she was out with her sponsor and would be attending her second meeting of the day. Still I wondered why she hadn’t answered her phone or responded to my text, so I drove past her favorite watering hole on the way to meet Chloe.
When I didn’t find her car parked anywhere nearby, I blew out a breath of relief even though something still felt off. Dread had settled dead center in my chest, and my fingers trembled on the steering wheel as I imagined what I might find when I got home later that night.
The moment I stepped into the store, Chloe took one look at me and her jaw went slack. She could sense something was wrong, which didn’t surprise me—anxiety was pressing in on me from all sides. We had been in this confined space together for weeks and had come to know each other’s moods. Why I thought I could gloss over my feelings tonight was beyond me.
“Blake.” She’d begun staining the runway black, but now she set her brush down and approached me cautiously. She wore hip-hugging skinny jeans with a vintage ABBA T-shirt. Her blond hair was loose from her usual dainty clip, the curls framing her face, and damn, she looked sexy. “Talk to me.”
I momentarily shut my eyes and shook my head. For a second I was afraid she’d think it was something she’d done, but I was pretty certain she realized it had to do with something else. “No. I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”
“Please,” she said, stepping closer. “I want to help.”
“You can’t help. Nobody can,” I said, feeling a flash of frustration. “It’s just . . . things are a mess again.”
“Your mom?” Her voice was low and careful.
I scrubbed my fingers over my face. “Yeah.”
She moved behind me, her fingers reaching for my shoulders. “You’re so tense.”
Then her hands began working some kind of magic by deftly massaging my neck and my shoulders. My arms braced the wall in front of me and I let out a moan.
“Feel good?” she said.
“Yeah.” I rolled my neck back against her fingers. “Thank you.”
“What else can I do?” she asked cautiously.
“I . . . I don’t know.” My eyes practically spun in the back of my head from her hands moving over my skin. “What you’re doing is . . . amazing.”
Her fingers slipped beneath my T-shirt as they began kneading the muscles between my shoulder blades. “You want to tell me about it?”
“N . . . No.” My voice stuttered as her hands journeyed down my spine to my waist.
“Take this off,” she said in a soft and tentative voice. After I pulled my shirt over my head, she smoothed her warm fingers over my flesh, as if savoring it.
Her hands traveled to my stomach and it quivered from her touch.
I immediately felt hot and solid for her despite all the chaos going on in my life.
“Blake,” she whispered. Her fingers skimmed up and down my chest and her nails lightly scratched my abdomen.
My hard-on fought against the material of my jeans. “Damn, that feels incredible.”
I just wanted to get lost in this girl.
Her lips found my ear and I shivered from their closeness. “I only want to make you feel good,” she said as her teeth grazed my neck and then trailed down to my shoulder. I pumped out a heavy breath. She turned me on so damned much.
When I felt her breasts flatten against my back and her hand brush over my erection, my arms flexed against the wall. I didn’t even try stopping her. Because hell, I wanted her to touch me.
She unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, and without hesitation slid her delicate fingers inside. When her small but sure hand gripped me firmly, I groaned loudly.
“Chloe. God,” I strained out. “I’ve imagined you doing this on so many nights.”
Her hot lips began sucking on the back of my neck as her fingers worked me in the front.
After so many days of pent-up sexual frustration from just being around her—smelling her, tasting her skin and lips—I was already close.
I probably should have twisted to look at her, to kiss her sweet mouth. We weren’t even making eye contact, but somehow this felt so damned intimate. To have someone to lean on when everything in my life was going to shit.
Besides, I knew her pretty well by now. Had I turned to face her, she might have balked. More than likely, not seeing my eyes, my expression, made her feel brave—and I didn’t want to ruin this. I needed her fingers on my skin, wanted it so damned badly.
“Christ, I love feeling your hands on me.” My words spurred her on as she gripped tighter and stroked faster.
“Let go,” Chloe mumbled, kissing between my shoulder blades. “Just let it all out.”
And that was exactly what I did. I unleashed all of my frustration and sorrow. And I allowed my uninhibited passion for this girl to sweep me away into a mind-numbing orgasm.
chapter eleven
Blake
When I came through the door carrying two coffees the following night, Chloe was lighting the last of dozens of tea lights she had spread across the room.
It gave the space this magical, almost ethereal glow. She’d also laid down a plaid blanket and wicker basket in the center.
“Wow, what’s all this?”
“I thought we’d have a picnic tonight,” she said, biting her lip and looking incredibly sexy. “After we finish painting. It’ll be our reward.”
“Sounds great.” Her actions were exceptionally sweet and considerate and I just wanted to pull her against me and kiss the hell out of her.
There would be time for that later, but first we needed to finish applying the second coat to the runway. The street sale was at the end of this week.
“How are things . . . at home?” she asked, her voice tentative.
“Um, I . . .” I shook my head. I didn’t want my mood to permeate the night the way it did last time, but I guess I couldn’t help it—I was currently living under a dark cloud.
“Please, Blake,” she said, her gaze searing into mine. “Talk to me.”
Being with Chloe the previous night had somehow helped. Like I had someone to lean on and get lost with. Maybe it was okay to allow her to be my anchor. Just for right now.
“Not much better,” I said truthfully. “Mom’s sponsor spent the day with her and got the treatment center involved. We have a family session in the morning to discuss the next steps to her sobriety.”
“I’m sorry.” Sadness filtered through her eyes. “How’s your brother?”
“After his game tonight, he begged me to stay over at his friend Matt’s house again,” I said, thinking about how I sat there, seething in those stands, because my mother wasn’t able to attend his game with me. She hadn’t been to a game all week. “I was about to say no, but his parents had walked over and told me it would be fine by them.”
“You’re a great big brother.”
“Thanks,” I said. “What’s new with you?”
“You mean besides the fact that my mom got on my case about not attending an art and design fund-raiser last night?”
My jaw went slack. She had been with me. Essentially taking care of me. “You ditched out on that last night?”
“I did,” she said with a strong voice. “And it felt darn good.”
Her grin was wide and open and I couldn’t help smiling right along with her. She was fighting her own kind of battle and I wanted to be a support for her as well.
We left the second coat of paint to dry on the runway and then sat down on the blanket. She opened the basket near her knees and said, “I thought maybe we needed something strong tonight.”