Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family #7)(8)

Shit! If I were any more transparent in my prying efforts, you could see right through me. Placing the glass on the counter, he leans into me slightly. Not in an intrusive manner, but close enough to make me wish simultaneously that he'd step back and lean in closer. I'm officially losing my mind.

"We'll figure this out as we go. We'll improvise."

He steps away from me. Thank heavens for small mercies. I nod wordlessly. What is there to say? The man is right, and I'm great at improvising. Seeing how most of my life has been a big improv all in itself, I'm a pro at it. I don't know why I'm getting all up in arms about this. 

"Okay. Just...as I said, I don't want to impose."

"That's a terrible word. I don't want to hear it again."

"I'll make a mental note. Anyway, no need to worry. I won't walk in on you romancing anyone on the balcony. I know how to be invisible when the situation requires it."



***

Blake



She almost shrinks into herself, and I instantly see red at the thought that others made her feel small or wish she'd be invisible. My first instinct is to ask who made her feel that way and make them pay, but I don't see how that would make this any better. So, I follow my second instinct-reassuring her that I won't ever make her feel small.

I close the distance to her, placing my hands on her shoulders, pressing one thumb at the base of her neck. Her pulse is erratic.

"I want you here, Clara. I wouldn't have offered this place otherwise."

"Okay."

I value my privacy, which is why I didn't rent out this apartment, not even to friends.

For the longest time, I had zero hesitation about letting people in my life. I'm a very sociable person; I like being surrounded by a crowd. The more, the merrier. Making friends has always come easy for me. It took me a long while to realize some people just hung around because I provided them with luxuries-free vacations, free everything. I was young when my family came into money, which had positives and negatives. I had everything I needed and wanted, but I also didn't learn the value of caution or mistrust. It took many mishaps for me to realize some people only stuck around for what I gave them, and when that wasn't enough, they showed their ugly side.

So now I'm more cautious, but Clara is one of the few people I feel comfortable around. I can be myself with her, just like with my family. She's fun, smart, and no one who openly admits that what she wants most is a family can have a mean or traitorous bone in their body.

There's that small detail of me being unable to stop touching her, especially since she's so responsive. The pad of my thumb is still at the base of her neck. Her pulse is, if possible, even more frantic.

"Any general house rules?" she asks, her voice uneven.

"None that I can think of. Except...I usually go to sleep very late and then wake up late in the mornings."

"Makes sense, since the bar and the restaurants open and close late."

"Yeah. I'm a light sleeper in the morning, so if you sing in the shower-"

"I don't."

An image of Clara in the shower pops in my mind. Christ, what I wouldn't give to see that, to join her. Not going there. Not going there.

Lowering my hand, I skim it down her arm. Her skin turns to goose bumps under my touch, and she sucks in a breath. Her reaction to me is intoxicating, makes it hard to keep my thoughts in line, even harder not to touch her more, see what other reactions I can provoke.

Jesus, this is escalating far too easily. We've spent time with each other before, so why is this spinning out of control so fast?

We're saved by the bell-in this case, the sound of a message on my phone.

"The bar manager needs me," I tell Clara, reading his message. "Have to go downstairs. When exactly do you have to move out of your apartment?"

"The end of this week."

"Okay. You can keep this set of keys, I have another one."

"Thanks."

I lean in to kiss her cheek, and because I can't help it, I linger with my lips on her skin a beat too long. She shudders lightly, her breath coming out almost on a moan. The things I'd do to this woman. I'd taste every inch of her skin, every-fuck me.



       
         
       
        

I step back right away.

"Come on, I'll walk you to your car, almost-neighbor."

As we leave the apartment, I have a eureka moment and a plausible explanation for the sudden shift in tension between us. Before we mostly saw each other at family events; we were rarely alone. As neighbors sharing a balcony, we will rarely not be alone. Turns out it's a dangerous move to ask a woman you're drawn to far too much to move next door.