Farrah’s eyes flared. “Fine. But if it’s exclusive, that means you can’t see Pat again either.”
“That’s going to be hard.”
The anger returned to her expression. She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “She’s my chief of staff. I’m about as sexually attracted to her as I would be to a ninety-year-old nun, and the feeling’s mutual.”
An audible gulp. “Oh.”
“But it’s nice to see you care so much. Now that that’s settled…” Blake grinned and nudged her legs open with his knee. “Let’s move on to something more fun.”
The red on Farrah’s cheeks deepened. “You know, you’re really a cocky son of—” The rest of Farrah’s sentence fell away when he drove her into her with one hard thrust.
“What were you saying about cocky?” Blake lifted one of her legs and propped it on his shoulder so he could drive deeper.
Farrah didn’t answer. She clutched the sheets with white-knuckled fists, a steady stream of breathless cries falling past her lips as he buried himself so deep, he could’ve fucking tattooed himself on her heart. She was still wearing his shirt, which made it even sexier.
Blake leaned down and captured her mouth with this. His tongue slipped into her sweetness, stroking and licking and swallowing her sighs of pleasure until she came apart in his arms.
Farrah didn’t know it yet, but he was going to reclaim her, piece by piece. Her friendship. Her trust. Her love. Her heart.
He wanted all of her, and this time he wasn’t going to fuck it up.
But until that day came, Blake would settle for anything she was willing to give him, because even a piece of Farrah was better than all of anyone else.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“This is like old times.” Courtney propped her chin in her hand, nostalgia wafting from her in waves. “We’re missing Leo and Luke, but seven out of nine ain’t bad. Plus Nate, of cou
rse.” She winked at the actor, who exuded movie-star charisma even in a faded green T-shirt and jeans.
“Thanks for the shoutout. I was beginning to feel like an eighth wheel,” he quipped, encircling Kris’s waist with one arm. Kris perched on his lap, dressed to the nines in a pleated white sundress, sky-high wedges, and a tangle of 14K gold necklaces.
Farrah wasn’t sure a $500 designer dress was the best thing to wear to a barbecue, but that was Kris for you. The girl wore diamonds to the gym. Diamond studs, but still. Kris was allergic to dressing down.
“How’s the movie going?” Sammy’s tan popped against his white shirt, and his muscles flexed against his shirtsleeves as he flipped the burgers on the grill.
Farrah slid a glance toward Olivia, who stared at her ex-boyfriend and chugged her watermelon juice like she was trying to quench the Sahara.
A grin spread across Farrah’s face.
Oh, Liv.
“There were a few issues with my co-star, but it worked out,” Nate said. “We wrapped up the New York portion of the shoot yesterday. We’ll shoot the rest back in L.A.”
“Very cool.” Sammy nodded.
“Hey, Liv, why don’t you help Sammy with the burgers?” Farrah suggested. “You look bored, and he’s manning the grill all by himself.”
Sammy and Olivia both flushed red.
“I can handle it. Grilling isn’t a team activity.” Sammy shot Farrah a warning glance, which she ignored.
Consider it payback for Sammy keeping Blake’s secret all these years.
Okay, fine, it hadn’t been Sammy’s secret to tell, but that didn’t mean a thing to Farrah’s petty side.
“She can help you pass out the burgers,” Farrah said. “Efficiency. Liv’s favorite thing.”
I’m going to murder you in your sleep, Olivia’s eyes warned.