CHAPTER ONE
BLAKE
“You’re mad, bonkers, completely off your head. But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.”
- Alice in Wonderland
“Blake, I don’t know about this. I mean, I love you and all, but you don’t even have a job here yet. That means you’re going to spend all your time helicopter sistering me.”
Pfffft. My sister. She gave me no credit.
“Listen, Chelle.” Short for Michelle, ‘coz I tended not to call people by their full names. One of my many quirks. “I get boundaries. I’m the queen of boundaries. I could write a book on them. Me and boundaries, we go way back. If boundaries were here right now, we’d fist bump each other.”
I set the bags dangling from my arms down on the kitchen counter. My apartment in New York might have been smaller than the one I’d been living in back home, but it cost twice as much in rent. And yeah, I didn’t have a job. But luckily, I’d always lived pretty modestly, so all the money I’d earned from the job I left behind had built up into a nice little nest egg. Though if I didn’t find something here soon, I could kiss that money buh-bye. I hadn’t expected crap to be so expensive in New York.
“I’m serious, Blake. My classes keep me busy constantly, and when I’m not in class, I’m studying. I don’t even have time for a social life. If you’re always hovering over me, trying to babysit me - which is entirely unnecessary, by the way - it will only make things harder.”
Pfffft. Chelle and her excuses.
“We both know why you have no social life anymore, Chelley. And I love you like a sister-“
“I am your sister.”
“But it’s time for you to try getting out there again.”
Michelle rolled her eyes and started pulling the groceries from the bags, avoiding the topic per the norm. Eventually I’d find a way to get her to face life and stop hiding. That’s why I moved from Tennessee to New York in the first place.
“Well, for tonight, sister of mine, you decide what we do. You wanna stay in and order pizza?”
Michelle paused in the middle of pulling a jar of spaghetti sauce out of the canvas shopping bag.
Yeah, you heard me. I had canvas grocery bags. Just doing my part to save the earth and keep the ozone from blowing up or whatever it is the kids said these days. Except no one was fooling me. I knew the real reason people didn’t use the plastic bags anymore was because they always break and all your shit falls out. But since saving the planet sounds better, I’m going with it.
“We just got back from spending a ton of money on food and you want to order a pizza?” Michelle asked incredulously.
“Chelley, Chelley, Chelley,” I tsked in my most patronizing tone. She pushed me away when I tried to put my arm around her shoulders, but I kept on undeterred. “It is common knowledge that food purchased at the grocery is not to be eaten right away. The rules are as follows: Go to the store hungry and buy way more than you need; Carry all your bags in one trip in an attempt to dislocate your shoulder; Order a pizza to treat yourself for nailing domestic life like a freaking pro.”
Michelle glared but pulled her phone out of her pocket without argument. When she ignored the fist I held out, I shrugged and fist bumped myself.
After a few hours of gorging on pizza and binging on Netflix, Michelle had to go back to her place and study. Ignoring her insistence that she didn’t need to be walked out, I grabbed my purse and locked the door behind me with every intention of jumping in the cab and riding with her to make sure she got home safely. No, that was not the helicopter sistering Michelle had accused me of. That was simply me being an awesome sister who also happened to be a teensy bit paranoid and overprotective - both undervalued qualities, if you ask me.
The plan was to wait until she climbed into the cab, then push her over violently and slam the door closed before banging on the back of the cabby’s seat and demand he go go go! Michelle knew me too well, though. She predicted my moves before I could execute them, and with one foot inside the back of the cab she turned and shoved me. Jerk. She laughed and gave me a taunting wave as they drove away.
As soon as I stepped back onto the landing of my floor, my phone dinged with an incoming text. I couldn’t help but groan when I saw the name of the sender.
Dan: I miss you
Oh, Dan. We’d dated casually for about six months before I decided to switch states. Breaking it off hadn’t been a difficult decision. He wanted to try the whole long-distance thing, but he and I were apparently living on totally different planets when it came to our level of commitment. Dan was nice and all, but I’d never seen a future for us. Seeing as how he’d never mentioned getting more serious, I thought he felt the same way. Obviously I was wrong. Even if I’d wanted to try with him, I’d never been good at splitting my focus. As in, I could only do one thing at a time, and since the whole point of my moving was to be there for Michelle, a boyfriend just didn’t fit the bill. Not to mention I had the hassle of finding a job and getting settled in to a completely foreign new environment. New York was literally the opposite of the small town Michelle and I had grown up in.
Surprisingly, when I’d given Dan 'the speech', it was the first time in our relationship that he’d shown any sort of real emotion. He hadn’t taken it well, going from shocked to practically crying to yelling in anger. I just sat there, letting him get it all out, then left. I felt bad, sure, but trying to make him feel better would have only given him the wrong idea. Walking away like that might have seemed cold, but he’d thank me in the long run.
Or maybe not, since he was still texting me weeks after our break up. Guilt was an underhanded bitch. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I didn’t want to lead him on either. So like the ten texts before it, I ignored this one, too.
The second my key pushed into the lock of my apartment door, my spine started to tingle. Every hair on my body stood on end. My ears strained, but I heard nothing. I knew someone was near me though. I could sense it. And why would someone hover nearby while being intentionally quiet unless they planned to do something bad? Answer: They wouldn’t.
I didn’t stop to think, I just jumped into action.
Without bothering to pull my keys out of the door handle, I spun around, using the momentum to swing my purse as hard as I could. Risky move, since I didn’t know how close my attacker was. Lucky for me, he was only a few inches away and my purse clocked him upside the head, distracting him long enough for my knee to meet his groin. When he groaned and doubled over to cup himself, I used all of my weight to jam my elbow into his lower back. He cried out, and I smiled victoriously.
He recovered immediately and the premature celebration smile wiped right off my face. Large hands gripped my waist and lifted me like a rag doll. He spun us around until my back was pressed against the wall, and he used one hand to hold both my wrists in place above my head. That’s when I got my first real look at him. Before then it had been a blurred frenzy of defensive moves, then him hunched over in pain.
My lungs completely deflated, then ceased working altogether. All the reactions I should have had from the start: Increased heart rate, sweaty palms, adrenaline rushing through my veins, labored breathing - they all hit me at once. Years of self-defense had taught me to be prepared for an attack. Nothing had prepared me for what would happen when pinned against a wall by the sexiest man I’d ever seen in real life.
If I’d gotten a good look at him before I kneed him in the balls, my reaction would have been a lot different.
Though it still would have involved his balls…
With our noses almost touching, looking below his neck wasn’t an option. Fine by me. Plenty to look at above the neck.
I took my time devouring every inch of his face. Dark blue eyes framed by thick black lashes, a few days worth of stubble giving his almost too-pretty face an edge of dark masculinity, the scar on his left temple that suggested he was no stranger to pain, the long slope of his nose that sat just above a mouth made for worshipping. Racy images of his head between my thighs, that stubble tickling my skin, shot a rush of lust down my spine like lightning, branching out in every direction until my entire body buzzed and tingled with electricity.
I wasn’t unfamiliar with the sensation, but it tended to only happen when I was on the precipice of an orgasm. Just looking at this guy’s face had me shivering with pre-orgasm feelies.
If it weren’t for the furious scowl he was giving me, I might have been bold enough to proposition him. Except I sensed my opportunity had passed around the time I bruised his nuts.
“What the hell is your problem?”
His breath smelled like cinnamon, distracting me from the venom laced inside his growl. My tongue darted out like it planned to lick the man and see if he tasted as good as he smelled. Bad tongue. Bad.
His eyes darted down to my mouth but didn’t linger. He went right back to glaring at me with so much anger that I could imagine even Arnold Schwarzenegger circa 1984, i.e. his Terminator days, would shit his pants if he were in my position.
I’d always handled these situations all wrong. Not situations where a very pissed off man has you pinned to a wall, because I gotta say, this was a first for me, but any time someone was angry at me. It was like a compulsion, I couldn’t help it. Someone being angry made me hella uncomfortable. And when I was uncomfortable, I giggled.
Hot stranger guy’s brows furrowed. He did not find me amusing.
I sighed and got control of myself. My arms were starting to fall asleep. Having his hard body pressed up against mine was hot and all, but if he didn’t let go soon, my arms were going to go numb.
“You can’t sneak up on women late at night in deserted hallways. I was simply protecting myself,” I explained with a shrug. Well, sort of a shrug. Having your hands pinned above your head made shoulder action kinda difficult.
“I wasn’t sneaking up on you, I was trying to figure out why you were attempting to unlock my door.”
My head tilted to the side so I could see around him and sure enough, my keys were hanging in the wrong door.
“Oops?”
Another nervous giggle escaped when he closed his eyes and groaned.
Good God, he’s hot.
Do not arch your back. Do not grind your hips into his groin. Do not beg him to take you right there in the hallway.
“If I let you go, are you going to try to knee me in the balls again?”
I pretended to mull it over. “So long as you don’t do anything that would make me want to harm said balls, then your manhood is safe.”
He studied me for a few seconds before releasing me. I shook my hands, trying to ease the sharp stinging of the blood flow returning. It surprised me when he knelt down beside me and helped me gather the contents of my purse. Every tiny move he made, his arm muscles flexed beneath his dress shirt. At some point I quit helping pick up my crap and just watched him work. Why are his muscles flexing like that? It’s not like he’s lifting piles of bricks. Is that normal?
He must have felt my stare, because I finally tore my gaze away from his tantalizing arm muscles, I found him watching me. I froze, crouched before him, ensnared by the intensity in his eyes. Where most might feel self-conscious to look so closely at a stranger, he made no attempt to look away or hide the fact that he was studying me. Scrutinizing. Like he was trying to figure me out with only a look, and the way his deep blue eyes turned almost black as they pierced straight through me, I had a feeling he was pretty damn close to achieving his goal. It made me feel oddly vulnerable, like I was standing naked before him.
A loud thud from the floor above us broke the trance. He shook his head and looked down, then promptly dropped the item he was holding in his hands. It was the case to my birth control pills. He stared at them with mortification, as if he’d just touch a used tampon.
“They’re just pills, dude,” I teased, proud of myself for not sounding a lot more casual than I was feeling. In lieu of blushing, he coughed and cleared his throat. When he offered his hand to help me stand, I took it happily. Not because I needed help standing, but because, hello, a hot guy offers you his hand, you take it. He shuffled his feet a little, like he wasn’t sure what to say. I took his moment of uncomfortableness as an opportunity to look at the rest of him.
His navy dress pants looked a little worse for wear, his tie was loosened considerably and his rumpled dress shirt had the top three buttons undone, giving me a peek of a tattoo on the upper right part of his chest. Even being a tad disheveled, he wore the clothes well. Really well. Though he stood ramrod straight, there was a slight slump to his shoulders. I looked at his face again, avoiding the blue irises that had hypnotizing capabilities and took note of the bags under his eyes. Poor guy. Comes home from work all worn out and what does he get? A crazy woman attacking him for no reason.
“What kind of pizza do you like?”
An adorable little wrinkle between his eyebrows appeared when they puckered in confusion.
I sighed when he didn’t answer. “Not a fan of pizza? That’s okay. What about Chinese?”
He added a head tilt, making him look like a confused little puppy.
Instead of explaining, I reached over and took my keys out of his door, switching them for his own. I had his door open before he even realized I’d yanked the keys out of his hand in the first place.
The apartment was your typical bachelor pad. Brown leather couch, massive TV and… not much else. It was clean, though. Like, immaculately so. Shit. Maybe he lived with a wife or girlfriend. I snorted at my assumption. You’re so sexist, Blake. Just because it’s clean doesn’t mean a woman is involved. Sexist as it might be, I’d bet my favorite pair of Lucky jeans that there wasn’t a woman on the planet that would live in that apartment without contributing to the emptiness of it in some way. There wasn’t a hint of anything even remotely feminine. And I’m not talking decor, but even things like a pot holder or magazine. Hell, the place barely looked lived in.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I ignored his outrage and started opening and closing every drawer and cabinet in his kitchen, not even registering what was inside them. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, I just needed something to do with my hands. Since he just stood there, not attempting to stop me, I just kept on going. So focused on my mission to look at everything and nothing, I didn’t notice him approach.
“Hey! Watch it!” I yelped when he almost slammed a cabinet door on my hand.
I shook my hand out and hopped around from foot to foot, putting my fingertip in my mouth to soothe it. In reality, he’d only grazed it and it barely hurt, but I was teaching him a lesson. He didn’t really hurt me, but he could have. Also, I liked being dramatic. Made life more interesting.
“Why are you going through my stuff?”
His tone was impatient, but I could have sworn I saw a hint of amusement lurking somewhere beneath that tough-guy look he was aiming at me. Or maybe he needed to poop. It was a toss-up.
“IDK.”
“Did you just speak an internet acronym?” He gawked at me incredulously. Like my speaking letters instead of words was akin to someone beating a puppy with a baseball bat. It was something I only did to annoy Michelle, but sometimes it came out on accident.
Instead of explaining, I said, “Hashtag shrug.”
While he growled and muttered something about ‘crazy women’ and ‘pushy something-or-others,’ I got my phone out of my purse and pulled up that pizza app thing Michelle downloaded for me. I’d just eaten my weight in pizza an hour prior so I wasn’t technically hungry, but the food had already started to digest and I could feel a little space opening up in my tummy for more. Food was like sex for me, and since I wasn’t planning on living a life of celibacy, I indulged in both whenever I had a craving.
“I’m assuming you want one with the works?” I asked aloud, but not really expecting an answer. “Or maybe a meat lovers? Guys like meat, right? You look like the type of guy who eats a lot of sausage.”
He sputtered and choked on air.
“Extra big sausage for you, got it,” I said with a smirk, laughing aloud when he tripped and banged his knee into the couch.
“You need to leave,” he barked. Even went as far as to point towards the door. Ya know, in case I’d forgotten where the exit was.
“Actually, I’m free the rest of the night, so I’m good here. Pizza is on its way. My treat, since I beat you up.”
His angry face came back. I liked angry face. It was super hot. Well, all his faces were hot, but the annoyed one kind of killed my libido, so angry was preferable.
“The only reason you even touched me is because I let you.”
That made me laugh. “You let me knee you in the balls? Kinky,” I said with a wink.
“I didn’t expect you to go for the money shot, so you caught me off guard, but only because I was intentionally trying not to hurt you. If you’d been a man, that would have gone a lot differently.”
I mock glared. “That’s sexist of you.” Like I cared. Five seconds ago I was having all sorts of sexist thoughts about his apartment. Still, riling him up was fun, so I ignored the hypocrisy.
“Trust me, precious, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
He smirked but it wasn’t a charming one. It was more along the lines of an evil smirk, but all it did was make me laugh.
“Are you going to kiss your biceps now? Maybe flex a little to show off those big muscles, prove how macho you are?”
His smirk fell and a feral-sounding groan tore from his throat. It sounded dangerous in all the wrong ways. Like, I think it was meant to sound menacing and instill fear. All it did was conjure up images of him tying me to his bed and showing me exactly how powerful those muscles were. My eyes even flitted in the direction of the bedroom. His layout was exactly the same as mine, so I knew where it was. His smirk reappeared, like he knew what I was thinking. It sent another wave of heat through my veins, similar to the one in the hallway though not nearly as intense. Thank God.
Inwardly, I chastised my vagina for being such a hussy. Me? I was totally calm and together and handling all the sex appeal he was exuding like a pro. But the girl downstairs? She was a hot mess.
“So what do you have to drink?” I asked while helping myself to the fridge. Personal boundaries were a blurry line for me to begin with, but my unexplainable urge to be near… “Hey! What’s your name?” I would have been happy to just refer to him as Hot Guy, but if he wound up being some sort of rapist or something, I probably needed more information for the police. Hard to imagine him needing to force himself on any woman though. I practically started panting every time I looked at him.
Not that I’d let him see how much he affected me. He already struck me as a fairly cocky guy, and I didn’t want to contribute to an inflated ego.
I popped the top on two beer bottles and handed him one. He looked at it for a second before accepting. We clinked the bottom of our bottles together in cheers. Or I clinked his and he looked at me like I was nuts, same diff.
“Chris,” he finally answered. “But my friends call me CJ.”
“Awww, we’re friends?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. Not a fan of sarcasm… noted.
“Well, friend CJ, my name is Blake. Friends call me Hotness.”
His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. Or it could have been a figment of my imagination born out of wishful thinking. Whatever. Still counted as a win.
A knock sounded at the door, and even though it wasn’t my apartment, I bounded over to answer it anyway.
“Mmmmm, smells yummy,” I said as way of greeting the pizza guy. Then I aimed a serious look at him before saying, “You didn’t eat any of his sausage, did you? It will come out of your tip if you did. Big guy back here loves his sausage, could eat sausage all day if I let him.”
Pizza guy gulped loudly. I envisioned CJ rolling his eyes behind me, though I doubted CJ was the type to pull out an eye roll. It was more plausible that he was standing being me all boring and serious and irritable.
“You use plates or just eat out of the box?” I asked after closing the door behind pizza dude. “I prefer eating out of the box because I loathe washing dishes, but if you’re too classy for that, we can grab some plates. From your kitchen,” I clarified. “Because again, I don’t wash dishes.”
CJ’s didn’t respond. He just looked at me like I was an escaped animal from the zoo. I shook my head. So rude. I’m a person.
I honestly expected to wind up eating alone while he stood there glowering at me with his arms crossed so it surprised me when after a few seconds he tentatively moved to join me on his couch. I had to bite my lip to keep from making a comment on how he’d put as much distance as possible between us when he pushed himself up against the arm of the couch as tightly as possible. But his joining me was progress, and I wasn’t about to undo it by teasing him.
Yet.