Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)(28)

"No, no, no. I need a proper heads-up, so I can get ready."

"Let me get this straight. I can attack and seduce you in the middle of  the night, but I have to give you a heads-up for a date?"

"Um...yes."

"That makes no sense."

I smile, imagining his expression. "So, where are we going?"

"Surprise."

"Blake, come on, I need clues so I know what to wear. Help a girl out. I don't want to stick out like a sore thumb."

"You're beautiful no matter what you wear, Clara."

Well dang. This man has a dangerous way with words. "We're going to have  dinner. Nothing fancy. I'll make reservations at eight."

"No way. The earliest I can be ready is nine."

"But you said you'll be done at the studio at six."

"So? I need to get ready."

"You need three hours? Will I recognize you?"

"I'm getting fancy, not undergoing plastic surgery."

"Okay, I'll make reservations at nine thirty. I can't wait to see you."

My chest fills with warmth. "Me too."

After clicking off, I mentally go through the dresses I own. I don't  want to barely make the cut. I want Blake to be proud with me on his  arm.

***

Blake isn't in his apartment when I arrive at home, which is just as  good, because I know him. He'd try to sneak in, and my plan is for him  to see the full package at the end. It sort of works. I'm almost done  when I step out of the bathroom, hastily looking around for some  hairpins.

Blake is on the balcony, pacing in front of the French doors. He notices  me a split second later and stops midstride, the corners of his mouth  lifting up.

And that smile? I'd do anything for it. Anything.

I've made a plan that if he tried to snoop from the balcony, I'd tease  him, locking the door and keeping him outside. But the moment I see him,  all those plans seem extremely foolish. I need to touch him, kiss him,  laugh with him. And I can't wait even one second longer. I head straight  to the French doors, open them, and we collide in a hot and heavy kiss.  Luckily, I haven't applied lipstick yet.

When I pull away, I'm breathless.

"Hi," Blake says. His hand is around my waist, keeping me flush against him.

"Hi back." I look up at him, drinking him in. The man is seriously  gorgeous. Everything from the set of his jaw, the width of his  shoulders, and the muscles lacing his arms scream masculinity. It oozes  off him, making me lose my train of thought. He's leaning lightly over  me, and there is something inherently domineering about his pose.  Licking my lips, I feel myself liquefy in his arms. I take a step back  to clear my mind and twirl around, feeling like a princess in my dress.                       
       
           


///
       

"What do you think?"

"I think I can't wait to get that dress off you."

My breath catches as he rakes his gaze over me. My God, he can be  intense. Still, I need to make something clear before I let him have his  wicked way with me-fingers crossed for very wicked.

I move my forefinger right in front of his nose, signaling no. "Careful.  This belongs to my best friend, Penny. She loaned it to me a while ago.  I have to return it intact."

"I can buy her a new one if I damage this one."

Well, well, isn't he cheeky. I start working on a sassy reply-my usual  sass won't cut it; Blake requires I up my standards-but then I look  beyond his shape, to the balcony outside. Mouth agape, I rush past him  to the French doors, taking in the sight. Pots hang from the railing,  and they're chock-full of flowers.

"Wow! What happened here?" I ask Blake, who joins me outside.

"Do you like it?"

"Of course! I love it. Dahlias are my favorite flowers. Oh, and hydrangeas. I love them."

"I know."

This catches me off guard, and I slice a glance at him. "You do?"

"Summer told me. She helped me with all this. I have a number of  talents, but I don't have a green thumb, or any clue about flowers. I  know you wanted to do this but didn't have time, so Summer and I did it  for you."

Something stirs inside me. He's being very sweet and attentive, more  than anyone has been with me. I could get used to this, and that's  dangerous.

"Thank you," I say simply, proud that my voice is even.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Blake is watching me intensely.  Being the object of his attention is messing with my senses.

"I missed you, Clara."

He tucks me into his side, kissing my temple, and my heart swells  knowing he shares my feelings. Hearing him say it first makes it easier  to open up, my fears of coming across as clingy subsiding somewhat.

"I missed you too. So much!"

He wraps both arms around me, and we stay like that for several moments.  Part of me had wondered if I'd built him up in my mind, but no. Being  in his arms makes me feel wanted and safe, desired and respected. How  can he do all this at the same time? More worryingly, how am I supposed  to be without him once this runs its course? Don't be silly, Clara. I've  been without a man for thirty years. But that was before Blake and all  his deliciousness.

He's not helping my case by doing nice things for me. Doesn't he know  that's my kryptonite? Obviously not, so I have to inform him. Silly man.  He can't keep doing nice things for me, taking care of me, and not  expect me to fall for him.

"You can't keep doing nice things for me, Blake. Why do you do it?"

He simply kisses the top of my head, hugging me tighter. "Because you're  not used to it, and you should be. So I'm going to keep doing it."

"But-"

"It's not up for negotiation."

Ah, this damn man. He smiles, right before he kisses me hard. I find  myself smiling back against his lips. Does he have any idea how  blissfully happy he makes me? I want to do the same for him. But what  can I give a man who already has everything?

Taking my hand, he leads me back inside. Raising my hand to his lips, he  kisses the back of it. I breathe in sharply, the contact zinging  through me. Next thing I know, he closes the distance between us,  hooking an arm around my waist, tracing the contour of my jaw with his  other hand. He pushes me farther inside the apartment, kissing up my  neck, my cheeks, my temple. Finally, he kisses my lips.

***

Blake



I've missed her skin, the scent, the warmth, all the things that make  her Clara. Now that I have her back, I want to get my fill of her. When  she laces her arms around my neck, I deepen the kiss, pressing myself  against her. I'm hard, and if I'm not going to do something about it, I  won't be able to get it together the entire evening.

"Shouldn't we go?" she whispers, but the corners of her mouth are up in a  smile. She wants this as much as I do. I back her against the nearest  wall.

"We should, but we won't. Not yet. I need to be inside you first, or I'll go crazy."

Her only response is tucking herself closer to me. I feel her hardened  nipples against my chest, and nearly drive into her. But no, I need to  get her ready first.

Looking her straight in the eyes, I bunch up her dress, until the fabric  ends and I feel the skin of her thighs. I trail my fingers up, and  then-fuck me. She isn't wearing panties. I press my fingers against her  opening and she drops her head back, moaning.                       
       
           


///
       

"You're not wearing underwear."

"I was going to put them on last."

She's wet, but I'll be fast and rough, so I need her drenched. Pressing  the heel of my palm against her clit, I trail my fingers up and down  each fold, coating myself in her wetness, coaxing a whimper out of her,  then a moan. When I slide a finger inside her, she fists my shirt,  closing her eyes. When I slide in the second one, she buries her face in  my chest.

"Blake, fuck!"

My control nearly snaps. My pants feel like they're about to burst, that's how hard I am.

After inhaling deeply a few times, I wrap my other hand in her hair,  keeping her forehead pressed against me while I drive my fingers in and  out of her, the heel of my palm applying more and more pressure. She  thrashes and whimpers, but I don't leave room for her to pull away. When  I feel the first spasms around my fingers, I pull them out.

"No!" Her cry of protest is the sweetest thing. "Why did you … ? I was about to...?"

She looks straight up at me, her eyes narrowed in accusation, her intent  clear: if I don't give her an acceptable answer, I'll pay for it. I  adore her fiery nature.

"You will climax, but only when I'm inside you. It will be more intense that way. I promise."

She tilts her head, as if considering this. "If you're not going to be inside me this very second, you'll be sorry."