Exhaling a heavy breath, I drop to the couch next to him, my eyes to my lap. I’ve sacrificed my pride, what more do I have to lose? After all, it’s better to scare him off early before the real feelings start to develop. “I thought this time would be different.”
“Explain different?” There’s the hint of a snarl that shadows his words.
I concentrate on my breath and try not to hyperventilate. “He would…” Humiliation drowns my confession.
Blake sits patiently. His body language is tense, but his expression soft.
“I can’t have an orgasm.” Dipping my chin, I hide behind the protective barrier of my hair. “I know it sounds stupid, and I’m sure it says a million different things about how fucked up I am.”
“Impossible. Everyone can have an orgasm.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not me. He’d try, and when I wouldn’t he’d take it personally. I’d get punished.” I huff out a laugh. “Ridiculous, right? I mean, even with the threat of his punishment, I still couldn’t do it. And trust me, I tried.” I peek through my hair to gage his reaction.
“What punishment?” His eyes blaze, and his expression morphs from soft to terrifying.
“You don’t—”
“I do. Now fucking tell me.” Because of the way he says it, as if his life depends on my next words, I decide to give him all of me.
“He’d take me. However he wanted.” I take a long sobering breath. “Hard.” My ribs squeeze the air from my lungs, and my vision blurs. “I thought it’d be different now. I mean, everything’s so different with you. It’s just…” My eyes swing to the window-wall, the view of the twinkling lights in the distance a break from his the smoldering fury I see in his eyes. “He ruined me.”
Blake storms from his seat with such force that I feel the wind from his departure. He stalks to the kitchen, where he slams drawers. I take the opportunity to put on my pants and shoes. No doubt he’s ready to take me home. Can’t imagine a guy like him has the time or the patience to deal with a nutcase. Not when he’s got so many loyal admirers waiting in the wings.
Ugh. I need to get out of here. “Look, um, you can call me a cab if you want.” I’m searching the dimly lit room for my purse. “I’m sure you’ve got to—”
“Here.”
I squeak and jump at his one fierce word spoken from right behind me. “Jeez, Blake. What do you have, like, kitten feet?” I hold my hand over my heart, feeling it pound away beneath my palm.
He shoves a pad of paper and a pen toward me. “Here. Take it.”
“Okay?” I take the items from his hands.
“Write it down. Address, phone number, social security number, whatever you’ve got.” He taps the pad of paper. “I want it all.”
I glare at the paper and pen then swing my eyes to him. “I don’t understand.”
“Write it fucking down, Layla. I’m not kidding. I want his address, phone number, blood type, fuckin’ coffee preference. Write it.”
“Blake—”
In one stride, he’s in my face. He hooks his fingers beneath my chin, holding my stare. “Don’t want to scare you, sweetheart, but this shit’s ending now. Some guys need to be taught a lesson. Your ex is one of those guys. And I’m the man to teach it. Write it down.”
He’s a fighter, born and bred to defend, to settle wrongs with punches. To submit the enemy until they give up. This is him, strong and caring, poetic in a way that cramps my chest. I place my hand against his hard jaw. “Snake, you—”
“No.” He flinches, his face screwed into a grimace. “You don’t get to call me that when I’m pissed. Makes my dick hard, and when that happens I forget to be pissed.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Almost.”
“Wait, so… you’re not giving up on me?”
“Giving up?” His expression sours. “Mouse, you’re insane if you think something like that would chase me away.” He shoves the paper and pen at me again. “Here, take it.”
“You’d be with a girl who can’t, I mean, who’s never…”
His mouth goes soft. He cups my neck and drags his thumb beneath my ear. “I like the challenge, sweetheart. You’re capable, you just haven’t had the right partner. What I saw tonight? Fuck, you light up like that, baby, I know you can. In time, if you’d let me, it’d be a damn privilege to show you.”
My mouth battles a smile. A warm and comforting feeling fills my chest as relief washes over me. I bob my head. “Sure. Er… yes, please.” I sound like an idiot, but the mental images his words have painted have scrambled my thoughts.
“Good. Now, write down the douchebag’s info.”
“I don’t want you getting into it with Stewart. He’s a jerk. He fights dirty.”
An evil smile cuts through his handsome face. “The dirtier the better.”
“I’m not writing it down.”
“I’ll find out anyway.”
“How?”
“Got sources.” His fingers trace my collarbone, sending a shiver down my spine. “If I told you, I’d have to kiss you.”