***
"This used to be a barn," Blake says as we step farther away from the main building and toward a much smaller one. I didn't seen it when I first arrived. "Now they've remodeled it completely and it's an extra wing. I think they added an extra story. I believe it was smaller." He squints, sizing up the house. "I can't believe I don't remember. I used to come here every day. I was collecting eggs in the morning. Started doing it when I was about seven."
"Really? That young?"
"The older ones had their chores, and I was competitive. Wanted my chores too." He laughs. "That basket was almost as big as me. First time I did it, I broke half the eggs and cried. Daniel didn't let me live it down for about a decade. Hard thing to forget."
"What happened next?"
"Mom said, ‘If you fail at first, you have to keep trying.'"
"Your mother is very smart."
"She is. It took about a week for me to stop breaking eggs."
I grin, trying to imagine Blake, only a few years older than Mia and Elena, wandering around with a huge basket. We spend the next half hour walking around the property, with Blake telling what used to be where, sharing anecdotes. I love that he trusts me enough to be so open with me and share a part of their childhood, of himself.
"This is the oldest tree on the property," he says about forty minutes later as we come under an enormous oak tree. It truly looks ancient-sturdy and wide. It's slowly bent forward, enough to let you know it's seen many storms and windy days. There is a swing hanging from it, and I immediately sit on it, swinging back and forth.
Blake smiles.
"What?" I ask, a little defensive.
"I knew you'd do that."
"I like swings." I feel like I'm flying whenever I'm in one. The one he ordered for the balcony arrived last week, and I spend about an hour there every evening.
"The swing has been here for a long time too." He pauses for a while, leaning against the bark of the tree. "Sebastian sat on it, with Summer in his lap, when he told us Mom and Dad would be selling the ranch."
"Oh, do tell."
Blake unhitches himself from the bark, walks over in front of me, and pushes the swing, sending me way farther back. He repeats the motion a few times, pushing harder, faster. I can feel the wind in my hair better this way. Of course, if I slipped from it, I'd faceplant straight on the ground, but I trust Blake wouldn't let anything happen to me.
"He'd already talked it through with the older gang and our parents. But he took Daniel, me, and Summer out here, explained it thoroughly. Said it's a risk, but promised to take care of us." His voice catches. "And he did."
///
"What did you say?"
"We were kids, and this was something new. It was exciting for us. And Sebastian is the type of person you just can't help trusting."
"So are you," I find myself saying, just as the swing comes hurtling toward him. He pushes me away again, cocking a brow.
"Which part of me spells trustworthy?"
"The one that offered me a place to stay when I needed one, then set it up just the way I wanted it so I'd feel at home." I hurtle toward him again, but instead of pushing me back, he grips the wooden board under my ass with one hand. The abrupt halt throws me off balance, and I let out a yelp. I'm going to fall.
Just as the thought takes shape in my mind, Blake whispers, "I've got you."
His arm is around me, firm and reassuring. And then his mouth. This kiss is so different from our first one, gentle and slow, but it has the same effect. It makes me want more. I soak in all of the warmth and steadiness that is being held and kissed by Blake.
He lets out a deep groan. I feel it reverberate through me, and the recognition that I spark that kind of desire in him turns me on. Blake eases me off the swing, still not letting me go.
"Clara?"
"Hmm?"
"Let's get back to the house."
"Okay."
I'm not sure what I'm agreeing to, but my entire body is buzzing with awareness. I like this man, and I can't fight my attraction to him any longer. The tension is palpable between us as we walk back inside the house. You'd need more than a knife to cut through it-possibly a machete or an axe.
We don't enter through the living room but through a back door, and we don't run into anybody. When we come in front of my door, he kisses the back of my hand, which is unexpected.
"I'm going to take a shower," he says. Also unexpected. I'm not sure exactly what I expected, but it was something more along the lines of "I'm going to back you against this wall and screw you silly" rather than kissing my hand and telling me he'll shower. "If you want me to come to your room afterward, just unlock the connecting door."
Ooooh, now I understand the shower part. We've been wandering outside in the sweltering heat and we're both sweaty. He's being a gentleman.
"It's my choice?" I ask breathlessly.
"Always your choice, and I'll respect it." With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he adds, "But if you choose to lock it, I'll just have to try harder."
"You don't give up, do you?"
"Not when I want something as badly as I want you."
Dong, dong, dong. Yep, that was the sound of my defenses crumbling to the floor. At least for now.
He kisses my forehead, then disappears into his room.
***
I hop into my own shower, washing off the sweat and heat. Unfortunately, by the time I step out, I've almost convinced myself that this is silly, wild, and crazy, and I don't do any of that. The key word being almost. Which is why after I dressed in my clothes for the party-a pink peasant blouse and a tight black skirt-I find myself in front of the connecting door, my hand on the key. Drawing in a sharp breath, I turn the key, unlocking the door. A sudden movement on the other side tells me that Blake was hovering in front of it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Clara
When he steps inside the room, I take a moment to admire him. He's wearing jeans and a tank. And he's barefoot. He's the sexiest thing I've ever seen.
Wordlessly, he interlaces his fingers with mine, kissing the back of my hand. My skin tingles at the soft brush, and my breath catches when Blake's gaze traps mine, holding it captive. So much heat and desire are in his eyes it's turning my knees weak. For a split second, I wonder what it would feel like to have his lips on other parts of my body if he's having this effect on me when he's only touching the back of my hand. I have a hunch I might not be able to take it. My body tightens at the thought.
Letting go of my hand, he leans in, and his mouth feels like liquid fire against mine. He isn't asking for permission. He's taking, and I love every second of it. Blake is relentless. We break apart for just the briefest of moments. I take a deep breath just as he runs the tip of his tongue on my lower lip, then the upper one. I swear my mouth is wired to my center because this feels as if Blake licked me there. A deep ache takes hold of me, and I press my thighs together instinctively.
"Fuck, it's turning you on, isn't it?"
"Yes." My voice is low and breathy. Tipping my head up, he seals his mouth over mine again, driving me crazy. I reach out for him, grateful that he's only wearing a tank. It leaves so much skin uncovered, ready to be touched and explored. I run my fingers up and down his arms, feeling the hard muscles, the veins on the inside of his forearms. I feel like he's holding back, and I don't want him to. I press my body against him. His skin is still hot from the shower, his hair damp as I run my fingers through it. Blake trails his mouth down my jaw, to the column of my neck, and lower on my collarbone.
///
"I want to make you come, Clara," he whispers against my skin. "Around my fingers, on my tongue."
I tug at his hair, heat pooling low in my body. "Blake."
"I want to taste your pussy. I want my mouth on you when you climax."
Oh my God. His words turn me on like nothing else. If he keeps talking like that, I will climb him right away.
"Say yes, Clara."
"Yes."
Blake smiles a sinfully wicked smile with a delicious twinkle in his eyes.
"I have to tell you though, I've never-" I take a deep breath- "I only have an orgasm when...I'm by myself." I shift uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at him. I figure it's better that he knows from the start because he seems very keen on the coming part. Blake slides two fingers under my chin, tilting my head up until he's looking straight at me. His gaze is, if possible, even hungrier.