Chapter 8
Blakely
‘Glamorous’ by Fergie plays in the background as I dot the nude gloss onto my mouth and rub my lips together. I had to leave my laptop charging on the kitchen table since none of the plugs on this side of the house work. Thankfully, the speakers are really powerful and the sound carries throughout the apartment. I lean back to take in my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
This bridesmaid’s gown isn’t half-bad. It’s a dusty rose chiffon maxi cut low in the back and cinched tight at the waist by a rhinestone belt with a thigh-slit so high it should be illegal. It obscures my wide hips and thanks to the Spanx I’m wearing underneath, my paunch isn’t a problem today. I spin around to get a good look at myself in the mirror.
Yeh – I look good.
I’m glad that Evangeline took it upon herself to pick out the gowns because if left to her own devices, Annaleigh would have her bridal party walking down the aisle in classic rock band t-shirts and ripped boyfriend jeans.
I wiggle my butt to the beat as I pick up my rhinestone choker and bring it to my throat, attempting to clasp it behind my neck. I’m wearing fake nails, though, something I don’t do often. The damn hook keeps slipping, making each attempt to secure it unsuccessful.
I grunt in frustration. I should have gone over to Evangeline’s to get dressed. But I got preliminary notes on Taken by my Bad Boy Roommate back from my new editor, the extraordinary EllenEdits, this morning. And they weren’t good. I think back to all the things she’d said.
EllenEdits: Unoriginal. Formulaic. Unrealistic. This book reads like you’ve never gotten laid in your whole life.
BJ Hamilton Writes: Wow! That’s harsh, Ellen!
EllenEdits: Hun, if I don’t say it, your readers will. Take the blowie scene in chapter 12 for example. Do limbs even turn that way? Unless your neck is on hinges, it's impossible to give a blowjob in that position. It was so incredibly awkward.
I’m paying a handsome sum for her unfiltered honesty. And well, I couldn’t argue with her opinion since I’ve never actually given a blowie.
Anyway, I started working on my re-writes and that’s how I lost track of time. I know I should have probably pushed it off until after the wedding but writing means so much to me. It’s my outlet, my escape, my savior. Y’see, when I was a kid, everybody in school would tease me about my red hair and freckles so, I would stay in my room and read. All summer when everyone else was out playing hopscotch and going to camp and having first kisses, I was perched on my little twin bed surrounded by books. As I got older, I started writing and people stopped teasing me straight to my face, but my love for hiding out in fictional worlds grew stronger with time. I am so grateful for the opportunity I have now – I get to tell my stories and complete strangers pay money to read them. So, excuse me if I get a little carried away sometimes.
Anyway, now I only have minutes to spare before I have to jump into my car and hightail it to the church before the start of the ceremony.
“Argh!” I groan loudly when one of the nails pulls away from my nail bed and I still haven’t been able to hook the damn necklace.
There’s a tap at my door. “You okay in there?”
Fuck…Nicholas.
He left for a jog a while ago and I’d assumed he wouldn’t be back until after I left the house. Because of the music, I hadn’t even heard him come in. Knowing that he heard my loud, weird outburst causes embarrassment to rush to my cheeks.
His voice rings out again. “Blakely?” His face appears in the crack of the bathroom door and before I have the chance to assure him that I’m okay, he pushes the door open.
He’s dressed in a white sleeveless t-shirt and athletic shorts with sweat dampening his forehead. His face is still flushed from his run and his damp clothes mold to his skin. He is so fucking sexy.
His eyes jaunt down my body at a leisurely pace. I try to read his expression and for a second, I worry that maybe I don’t look as good as I thought. But then, he bites down on his bottom lip and his eyes sweep over my face.
"Blakely, you look fucking hot…” he breathes.
A shiver runs through me at the compliment. I can’t help but take a little step back. The thrill of his words is that forceful.
He flashes an impish smile. "That may have been a bit too blunt, huh?"
“N-no. It’s okay. Really,” I stammer, “Thanks.”
He smiles softly. His gaze falls down to my hands where I’m clutching the choker between my fingers. He tips his head in that direction. “You need help with that?”
I give him a little nod and I set it in his palm. He moves behind me, draping the necklace around my throat. My belly tingles from his proximity. His warm, minty breath skirts my flesh and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention as he clasps the hook effortlessly.
His hands settle on my shoulders and he slowly turns me around. "All done," he whispers in a husky voice as his hands travel down my sides, smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress. His eyes follow the path of his hands and when his fingers find my hips, they flex against me causing a groan to slip past my lips. The playful smirk he usually wears is gone, replaced by lust so raw, so severe that it almost scares me.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." The words seem to pour out of his mouth without his volition. Like it's something he can't control.
He stares at me through those thick glasses and it's almost as if the lenses were a magnifying glass focused straight into my soul. I want him. And in this moment, I'm sure he knows it. And I don't even want to hide it.
I swallow hard, licking my bottom lip and his musky scent surrounds me. My eyes are on his mouth. I want to feel it on me. I want to feel the weight of his body pinning me down. The urge has never been stronger. He moves closer, burying his nose in my hair. My body keens toward him, my breasts seeking contact with his rock hard abs. The heat of his body is so inviting. I just want to collapse against his strong chest and wrap his arms around me, drowning in his masculine fragrance.
His lips are so close. I swear he's going to kiss me. And I'm going to need a heart transplant.
But just as my lips part and go in search of his, the song changes. Another upbeat pop tune comes on, yanking us out of the moment. Nicholas pulls back. With a brusque step away, he releases his grip on me. “You’re gonna be late,” he mumbles.
Right…Annaleigh. The wedding.
“I should go.” My voice is so quiet and lustful that I can hardly hear it over the blood whooshing in my ears.
I step out into the hallway and take one look back at him just as he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. I just about swoon. "Enjoy your friend's wedding, Blakely."
The door closes slowly and through the thin wall, I hear the shower turning on.