Chapter Fifteen
Blake spent an hour in the shower. Yes, he jerked off—twice—and no, it didn’t do jack shit for him, because the second he stepped out of the bathroom and saw Farrah sitting on the bed in that tiny T-shirt dress thing of hers, his blood rushed south again like it was never-ending spring break in Cancun.
Fortunately, she was so engrossed in her phone she didn’t notice he still sported a boner the size of Texas.
The earlier heat between them had retreated, but it still lingered in the air like a warning, reminding Blake he must be the biggest idiot in the world to turn down sex with the one woman who could unravel him.
He’d seen it in her eyes. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. But she wanted his body, and he wanted all of her. Heart, mind, body, and soul.
Forget his earlier strategy about getting close to her body to reach her heart. If Blake gave in now, it would only reinforce the idea that all he wanted was sex. Hell, he’d all but confessed he still loved her at the lounge, and she’d brushed it off like it meant nothing.
To her, his words were lies. To him, they were an unshakeable truth.
Blake clenched his teeth and sat on the other side of the bed—of course there was only one bed, because the universe took pleasure in torturing him—and stared at the tent in his sweatpants. It glared back at him. Fuck you for blocking me, his cock hissed.
I’d say fuck you back, but that’s exactly what’s not going to happen.
Not gonna lie, it wasn’t his first time talking to his dick, but it was the first time Big Blake and Little Blake didn’t get along.
I’m going crazy.
Blake cleared his throat. “Sorry I took so long. Shower’s all yours.” He thought a normal conversation would take his mind off the ache in his balls, but now he was picturing Farrah in the shower and fuck, that didn’t help at all.
“Thanks. I want to finish this chapter first.”
Minutes ticked by before Farrah looked up from her phone.
Blake had angled his body so she couldn’t see his hard-on, but the tiny smirk playing at the corners of her mouth told him she was aware of the effect she had on him.
He’d taken Justin and Landon’s advice and played it cool all day. It took every ounce of willpower he had plus some he borrowed on credit, especially when Farrah spilled her water on her shirt, and he could see the outline of her bra through the wet fabric.
Ever tried driving through Manhattan traffic with a raging hard-on while humming Taylor goddamn Swift to take your mind off your X-rated fantasies?
Yeah, neither had Blake. Until today.
The play-hard-to-get strategy seemed to have worked…a little too well. He’d noticed Farrah’s annoyance when the waitress slipped him her number, and he sure as hell noticed the way her body responded to him earlier. It was the chip in her ice wall he’d been waiting for. Too bad it was chipped in the wrong section.
While the rest of her melted, the defenses around her heart remained frozen.
“What are you reading?” Blake eased under the covers, both to hide his erection and to soak up the warmth. Despite the radiator humming away in the corner, a cold draft permeated the room and pebbled his skin with goosebumps.
“Leo’s new book. I always suspected he would be a writer someday.” Farrah’s mouth softened into a smile, and Blake wanted to strangle Leo Agnelli with his bare hands.
He hadn’t kept in touch with Leo. Hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from Shanghai, really, except Sammy and Luke, who was an assistant rugby coach at the University of Wisconsin Madison. He and Leo had been friends by default. They’d hung out because they ran in the same circle, not because they had anything in common. Not to mention, Farrah had had a crush on Leo before Blake, something for which Blake had never quite forgiven the Italian.
But Blake would have to be living under a rock not to notice that Leo was the literary world’s latest darling. He wrote sweeping tales about family and love that covered continents. His work hovered in that space between popular fiction and highbrow literature, and—wouldn’t you know it—the public ate that shit up like a pack of starving hyenas.
“Is it good?” Not that Blake cared. He hadn’t read any of Leo’s books, and honestly? He didn’t plan to.
“It’s great.” Farrah set her phone aside and unfurled herself from the bed. “I’m taking that shower. Be right back.”
The door shut behind her.
Blake laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling. The water running in the bathroom blended with the steady downpour outside. Thunder boomed, rain lashed at the windows, and the demons that stayed inside their box when Farrah was around crawled out, slowly at first, then all at once.
Screeching tires. Twisted metal. Blood.
The memories slammed into him with the force of a Mack truck going at full speed.