“Love you, Leah.” I hit end on my phone just as Blaise opens my door. He holds his hand out of for me. I place mine in his and he helps me out of the car. He leads me to the front door.
“Asher and I live here together, but lately he’s been at Grace’s more than he’s here. It’s been weeks since he’s actually stayed here,” he explains.
The house is a brick ranch with a two car attached garage. He leads me inside and it’s not what I was expecting. The house is clean and inviting. You can tell two bachelors live here, but at the same time, it feels like a home.
“I want to show you around, and I will. But right now, I just want you in my arms,” he says, leading me down a long hallway. His room is decorated much like what I’ve seen of the rest of the house. White walls, tan carpet. He has a black and cream bedspread that covers his massive king sized bed.
Blaise kicks off his shoes and pulls his shirt over his head. He pulls his pager, which I assume is because he is on call and his cell phone out of his pants pocket. He empties the other pocket, which consists of his money clip. He unbuttons his jeans and lets them slide to the floor.
Holy freaking hotness! Blaise in boxer briefs is a site to behold. Surely this is to be an experience I will never forget. His colorful tattoos encasing his arms and his eight pack; yes, I said eight. My eyes make their way to the V of his hips and I lick my lips.
“Tate, as much as I want to stand here and let you keep f*cking me with those beautiful green eyes of yours, I’m dead on my feet.” He comes to stand beside me. “Kick off your shoes,” he whispers.
At this point, I would walk around and cluck like a damn chicken just to be able to keep looking at him. He truly is male perfection at its finest. I do as I’m told and kick off my shoes. I’m wearing khaki pants and a short sleeve sweater. I briefly wonder if he’s going to ask me to take those off as well.
“Do you need something to lay down in so you don’t wrinkle your clothes? You have to go back to work right?” he asks. “Wait,” he says.
He quickly walks to the other side of the bed and picks up his phone. I have no idea what he’s doing and really I don’t care. I’m just taking in the view. I hear him say Harry and I try to focus on the conversation. I hear Blaise tell Harry he ran into me at the firehouse and his dad had a meeting. He proceeds to tell him he has a lot of ideas for fundraising and asked if I could join him.” Harry says something I cannot hear. Then Blaise says, “Great, thanks so much, Harry. I’ll tell her.” He hits end on his phone and places it back on the nightstand. Walking to his dresser, he pulls out a t-shirt and tosses it to me. I hold it up. It’s a Murfreesboro Fire t-shirt; on the back is says RICHARDS.
“Harry was thrilled we’re working together on fundraising ideas. He said after we’re done, to take the rest of the day off. He’s says things are slow,” Blaise informs me.
“But…I can’t just miss work,” I reason.
“You can. Boss’s orders. Harry is a great guy to work for. Besides, Mom says you are so efficient that you have everything organized and running like a well-oiled machine. It’s just one day,” he says.
I hold the t-shirt up. “And this?” I ask.
Blaise is at my side in two long steps. “This is my shirt. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to stay with me today. I really do have some fundraising ideas, but more importantly, I just want to spend the day with you.” He runs his hands up and down my arms. “I’m going to go get a bottle of water while you change. Can I get you anything?” he asks.
“Water, please.” And just like that, my decision is made. I want to spend the day with him, too. I want to feel that peacefulness I feel every time I’m in his arms, and it looks like I’m going to be doing it in his shirt.
I leave the room so she can change. I thought for sure she would fight me. I really do just want her to be comfortable and well, I want to see her in my clothes. The thought of her in my shirt causes my dick to twitch. Shit, this is not what I need. She’s not ready and I’m exhausted. I meant what I said; I need for her to be able to give me everything. I want all of her. I’m not sleeping with her until I get it. Yes, it sounds crazy. I know this, but Tatum is different. I already know from just the taste of her lips that one night would never be enough.
I take my time in the kitchen, giving Tatum plenty of time to change. The bowl and spoon from my morning cereal is in the sink so I wash them quickly. The laundry room is just off the kitchen so I fold the load of towels I washed last night.
Not willing to wait any longer, I retrace my steps back to the bedroom. As I walk through the door, I see Tatum standing beside the bed wearing my shirt. She’s holding a picture of my family, the five of us. It was taken at last year’s Fourth of July party. The sight of her takes my breath away. I take her in. The shirt, my shirt, the one that has my last name sprawled across the back is now the only thing covering Tatum. My eyes continue onward. I’m trying to memorize everything, how the shirt ends and the creamy soft skin of her legs begins.
My fingers are tingling and my arms are aching to hold her. My heart flutters in my chest. I know it’s soon and I know it sounds f*cking crazy as hell, but I’m in love with this girl. As if she knows what I’m thinking, Tatum places the picture back on the nightstand and turns to face me, a slight blush covering her cheeks.
She smiles softly. “It’s a little big,” she says, pulling at the hem of my shirt.
I go to her because, really, not touching her when she’s here with me like this is just not possible. “You make it look good,” I tell her, placing a kiss on her temple. “You know what else you do?” I whisper in her ear.
She shakes her head telling me she doesn’t. “What?” she asks so softly I almost don’t hear her.
I reach for her hand and lay it flat on my chest, over my heart. “You make my heart beat a little faster,” I tell her.
Her beautiful green eyes light up at my admission. Not only are my words affecting her, but she can feel the steady rhythm against the palm of her hand. She does that to me, only Tatum.
I run my finger down her cheek. “Lay with me?” I don’t wait for an answer; I pull back the covers and motion for her to climb in. I climb in after her and pull the comforter up over us. I have blackout blinds in my room for nights I’m up all night on a run with the department. The room is in complete darkness since I shut the door when I came back from the kitchen.
Tatum rolls over, facing the window, her back to me. I place my arm around her and bring her back against my chest. Immediately, all tension leaves my body. This feels right. It hits me that Tatum is the first girl to ever be in my bed, in my home. I bought this place after Beth and I broke up. I’ve never brought anyone here, just family and Grace, of course, but she falls into the family category. This is my home; it’s sacred. The thought of using it as a place to “hook up” taints the idea of home for me. Heather and I were usually at hotels since she was traveling; if not, we were always at her place. She never wanted to come here, and I never invited her.
No one meant enough to me to share my home with them. Tatum is stiff beside me. I want to reassure her she’s different. That I’m different with her.
“You’re the first,” I say into the darkness.