“Let’s look at your handiwork.” He clicked a button, and the image appeared on the screen. “See how nice?”
It was nice. What I thought was just a plain, ordinary flower was now sitting there, shining beautifully among streaks of sunlight. It seemed to be angling toward it, drinking it in. Loving it. Needing it. Much like I must have looked gravitating toward Blake.
My head inclined toward him, drinking in his energy. I was beginning to need this man. Desperately. My head screamed at me to run away and never look back, but every fiber of my being wanted to melt into every fiber of his.
It was too much to handle and I couldn’t think straight with him so close. I needed space before I did something irrational. “It’s pretty,” I murmured. Then I slid off the stool and put some much needed distance between us.
Taking a moment to study me from across the room, Blake plucked the bud from its vase and rolled it between his long fingers. He smelled the petals. “To some people flowers symbolize death. But to me, they symbolize life.”
I stared at him. Where was he going with this?
“There are certain flowers you can plant and, even when the cold comes and they die, they aren’t gone. When the pain of winter is gone and the ground thaws the next spring, they come back.” He looked at me with a serious expression. “They get a new chance at life. No matter what happened to them in the past. They regrow and are even more beautiful than before. To me they’re a sign of hope. Hope for tomorrow. Hope for the future. Hope of new life and possibilities. Different circumstances. Second chances. Hope.” He stood and began to make his way toward me.
My feet were rooted to the ground.
He tucked a loose tendril behind my ear and placed a finger beneath my chin, slanting it back so I could look into his fiery sapphire eyes. “Love.” He swept one finger across my forehead, smoothing wayward hairs. “Living.” His thumb traced my lower lip, and my eyes closed at the warmth flooding my belly. He put his palm to the side of my face and searched my eyes for an answer and I instinctively leaned into his touch. Cradling my cheeks between his hands, he lowered his face so slowly, so gently, toward mine.
As if trying to commit every contour to memory, he used his nose to caress each of my features. It was the most sensual and erotic thing I’d ever felt. Traveling up past my cheekbone, he circled my temple and continued across my forehead. After circling the opposite temple, he came across the right cheekbone and up to each of my eyes. He placed a soft kiss to both and then moved down my nose, toward my jawline.
My lips parted in invitation, my body relaxing forward as I willingly released myself to him. My breathing labored when his lips grazed mine, but he didn’t linger there, barely even touching them. I wondered if I’d even felt them at all or if it was just my imagination running wild with desire. My body caved into his, the need for him growing fierce within me.
He skimmed his nose from the spot below my ear, along the length of my jaw, past my chin, to the other ear, and caught the lobe between his teeth, igniting prickles throughout my body. I hissed a guttural sigh, my body noticeably trembling. His touch evoked something animalistic inside of me, and it was banging on the walls of its cage, begging to be set free.
He sensually stroked his forehead along the area he’d just traced moments before, gently rolling his head back and forth, like he was trying to seep me into his brain and melt me into his being.
My chest rose and fell rapidly. I needed his lips on mine. I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life. I felt like he was making himself part of me, molding himself into a piece of my anatomy. When he made his way back toward the center of my face, I couldn’t take much more.
I tilted my head up toward him in a silent plea. He peered down at me through long lashes, his eyes hooded. Then his mouth descended toward mine, excruciatingly slow.
I closed my eyes in anticipation as I felt his being come within centimeters of my own. The seconds he lingered in that small space were pure agony and I wanted to grab the back of his head and crash my mouth to his.
He kissed the tip of my nose, and my eyes fluttered open. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach as I blew out the air trapped in my throat in wispy gasps. He rested his chin on the top of my head and wrapped me in an embrace. I knew he was thinking, trying to figure out where to go from here and what to do with me. If I were anyone else, I was sure he would have kissed me. He let out a deep exhale, rustling my hair and kissed the top of my head. Then he backed away.
With weak limbs, I stumbled back and grasped the counter to steady myself. I should have known he’d be too much of a gentleman to do anything without my explicit consent, but I couldn’t give it to him.