Blake catches my eye and smiles, leaning in until his breath tickles my ear. “Remember, we’re madly in love, so you can touch everything your heart desires.”
There is an emphasis on the wordeverythingthat is hard to miss, and the knowing smile on his face sends a shiver of yearning down my spine. My cheeks burn as I give him a playful shove, and I try to ignore my heart skipping a beat at the touch of his toned chest. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Taylor.”
A crease forms between Blake’s brows as he scans my face. “Is this about earlier?”
“It might be.”
His fingers travel up to the base of my spine and in one smooth movement he pulls me against him, his body rock hard against mine as he searches my eyes.
“If you’re worried I don’t find you attractive, you’re wasting your energy.” His hand closes over mine, gently gliding it over his chest until it rests over his heart. “Can you feel my heart, Alexis? Do you feel it beating?”
I nod.
“I didn’t. Not until I saw you all those years ago, when you laughed at me for the first time. I’m not sure what it is we have, but I know that I’ve never felt like this before. So I’m not going to kiss you or sleep with you, no matter how badly I want to. Not until you are one hundred percent sure, and you feel completely safe and adored by me.”
Blake’s heart hammers underneath my palm, and though I’m waiting for him to take it all back I know he won’t. He isn’t lying. I know that. But I can’t make sense of it, either.
“Are you saying I brought the great Blake Taylor to his knees?” I arch a brow, hoping he hears the quiet teasing in my voice.
His lips tug into a smirk. “You can have me on my knees whenever you want. When the time is right.”
“Well, aren’t you a gentleman?”
“Do you have to sound so disappointed?” Blake says. His hand glides down my thigh, lifting it to his hip before dipping me backward, our bodies pressed close for a few glorious moments.
“That depends. Do I have a reason to be disappointed? Or are you saving me from a let-down?”
A thunderous laugh rips from Blake’s chest and I shriek as the floor falls from beneath my feet, his hands holding firm onto my ribcage. His face is dangerously close to my core, and I can’t help but think about forcing his hand by throwing my leg over his shoulder and scooting closer until he forgets all about his adorably sweet hangups.
Through the mirror, I can see all the eyes in the room turn to us. Blake doesn’t put me down.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. “Put me down.”
“No. You’re in air jail until you apologize for wounding my ego. Besides, if you’re so afraid of being let down, you better get used to being up there,” Blake says calmly, and it’s hard to miss the self-satisfaction in his voice.
Bastard. Smug, kindhearted bastard.
“Fine. You can’t keep this up, anyway. At some point I’ll get too heavy to lift and you’ll have to put me down.” Finally all that extra padding has a purpose. I knew those extra snacks were worth it.
“Not happening. I work out six days a week, Sunshine. You weigh nothing to me.” I shriek as he maneuvers me down and slings me over his shoulder.
I hit his back with balled fists, though my laughter sabotages my tone as I say, “Put me down!”
“Never.” His hand presses into my ass to keep me in place. Am I dreaming, or did he just kiss my hip?
The cameras are on the two of us. I can see them all around. So as Blake carries me to the other side of the studio, away from the gazes of our competition and the class we knew I’d hate, I wait until I’m sure there’s a camera on me and squeeze Blake’s butt.
Chapter 12
Blake
It’sa good thing hockey is a violent sport, because I’ve got a lot of pent-up frustration to work out.
Mostly at myself, for not being able to focus when I need to and thus barely getting a passing grade for a topic I know by heart, and for still not having called the only mother figure I’ve ever had so we can catch up.
There’s also the anger at my mother. She texted me this morning, the first I’ve heard from her in months. She was never much of a maternal figure, but I don’t think I’m wrong for wishing she cared about me enough to warrant a text longer thanHockey good?
Finally, and perhaps most pressingly, there is the sexual frustration of pretending to date the hottest woman on the planet and not being able to touch her. When she squeezed my ass in that salsa class I felt it through my entire body, like a fiery bliss I’d never felt before. Even now, as she sits in the first row with Alissa, bundled up from head to toe in Brookside University merch and my jersey–fuck, that jersey is my undoing–it’s taking everything I have not to take her into a broom closet and proveI’m hers. It’s mortifying, the effect she has on me without even trying.
