Now it’s two weeks since my trip and I’m over at Blake’s apartment again. Hell, I’m over so often I almost feel like I live here, and Blake doesn’t seem to mind that I’m all but squatting at his condo. It’s just so…spacious. My dorm room is teeny and offers even less privacy than before, because Violet is…wait for it…dating someone. I couldn’t believe it when I got back to discover that she’s going out with Keith Chan, one of our fellow nursing students. I guess she’s finally starting to chill out, letting go of that must-study-always mentality.
And also? Blake is here. I can tell myself that it’s the floor plan that draws me to apartment 1504, but it’s really the big guy at the other end of the sofa.
I sneak a look at him, and he doesn’t notice, because his attention is focused on the movie listings. I study his sturdy jaw and rugged cheekbones. He has laugh lines at the corners of his mouth, and I feel my own smile start to grow just from looking at him.
I always told myself I’d end up with someone deep and artsy, but it’s a fun-loving, goliath-sized hockey player that makes me smile like an idiot whenever we’re in the same room together.
Who knew?
“Baby-cakes,” Blake grumbles from a few feet away. “I’m horny.”
I snicker at him. “I know you are, big boy, but tough cookies. Stay over there on your side until the surprise arrives.”
He pats his crotch. “I’ll give you a surprise, how ’bout that?”
“Nope.” I point to the screen. “Be quiet and watch the game.”
At his exaggerated huff, I hide a smile. He’s been trying to tear my clothes off ever since I arrived, but I’m expecting a delivery and don’t want us getting interrupted by the doorbell. Of course, asking Blake to keep his pants zipped is like asking a dog not to lick his balls, so I’ve banished him to the far end of the sofa for the time being.
“The game’s over,” he complains.
I glance at the TV and realize he’s right. The Chicago game has been replaced with the news. “Watch something else, then.”
“Okay. Take off your clothes and I’ll watch you.”
“Blake.”
“What?”
“I’m about to give you the best surprise of your life,” I inform him. “The least you can do is quit whining like a preschooler.”
He heaves himself off the couch. “Fine. I’m taking a shower, then.” One brow arches at me. “And maybe I’ll shake the snake when I’m in there, how do you like that?”
“If it shuts you up? I’ll take it.” I wave my hand toward the hallway. “Go. I’ll come get you if the delivery shows up before you’re out.”
“You’re no fun, J-Babe.”
His footsteps thump on the hardwood as he trudges off. He might be pouting now, but that’ll change once he sees what I have in store for him. I’ve been shaking with excitement for three days now.
I hear the faint sound of running water from the direction of the master bedroom and nod in approval. Good. I hope he is jerking off in there, because once that door buzzer goes off, we probably won’t be having sex at all tonight.
Knock knock.
My head jerks toward the door. What the hell? Nobody gets into the building without getting buzzed in first—the doorman in the lobby makes sure of that. Besides, my delivery person is supposed to text me when she’s downstairs.
Wary, I rise to my feet and walk to the front hall. Blake’s door doesn’t have a peephole, so I keep the chain on as I open the door just slightly.
A gasp gets stuck in my throat when I find Molly standing there.
Her expression darkens the moment her eyes meet mine, her pretty face a mixture of shock, anger and annoyance. “What are you doing here?” she demands.
I force myself to remain calm. But seriously? “Um, I think the more important question is, what are you doing here? And how did you get up here?”
Molly’s lips tighten. “Can you please take that chain off? It’s rude.”
I’m the rude one in this equation? Ha. Still, I slide off the chain and open the door a bit wider. But I don’t invite her in.
“The doorman said it was all right for me to come up,” Molly explains, averting her eyes. “I told him I knew Blake.”
Oh brother. This guy must be new then, because no one who’s worked in this upscale building for more than a day would ever let unapproved visitors into the elevator. I bet a hundred puck bunnies show up here daily claiming to know Blake or Wes.
I make a mental note to tell Blake to have a chat with the guy.
“Is he here?” she asks, trying to peer past me.
“He’s in the shower.”
Blake’s ex bites her lip. “Oh. I see. And you?”
“And me what?” I can’t stop a sarcastic retort. “Am I in the shower? No, Molly, I’m not in the shower.”
Irritation flickers in her eyes. “I need to speak to Blake. May I come inside and wait for him?”
I gape at her for a second. Then I answer in an incredulous tone. “No offense, but I don’t think Blake would appreciate coming out of the shower and finding you sitting on his couch. If you need to speak to him, why don’t you give him a call?”
She scowls, and it’s not a good look for her. “Because he’s not answering my calls.” She adjusts the strap of her black leather purse. “Look, I need to talk to him.”
“Why?” I ask bluntly.