He says nothing. He just looks at me with his eyebrow raised.
“I was just joking...I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Still nothing.
“Blake?” I put my fork down. “I really didn’t mean anything by that. I was just—”
“What do I have to do to get you to stay with me for another week?” He cuts me off. “Name it.”
“What?”
“I want you to stay with me for another week. How can I make that happen?”
“Um...” I feel butterflies fluttering in my chest.
He reaches over the table and puts his hand over mine, waiting for a response.
“Why would you want me to stay?”
“You’re the first company I’ve had at my house for this long in years.” He sighs. “I also happen to like you and your smart-ass mouth, and I want to spend more time with you. I’ll pay for your new flight ticket if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I’m not sure what to say. I would’ve never expected him to say something like this.
I mean, I’ve really enjoyed his company too, and I feel like his playfulness is something that I’ve never experienced with anyone else, but staying? If I agreed to another week, I’d never want to leave, and I’d probably start fantasizing about a relationship that’ll be doomed from the start.
“Why would it be doomed from the start?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“You said if you stayed with me, you’d start fantasizing about a relationship that would be doomed from the start. What makes you think that?”
I gasp. “I was thinking that. I didn’t mean to say it aloud.”
“Well, you did.” He stands—still holding onto my hand, and pulls his chair next to me. “Why do you think that?”
“Besides the obvious fact that I literally just met you, and I just got out of a relationship?”
“It was a dead relationship. Those types don’t count.”
“How would you know?”
“Divorce clients.” He smiles and presses his forehead against mine. “I can do long-distance...Or you can move.”
“I just met you last week!”
“So?”
“So, that’s f**king crazy. You and I have just been hanging out indoors every day. That’s not something you can build a relationship on.”
“So I have to save you from walking into a moving bus just to get you to spend more time with me?”
I laugh. “No, but...I can’t stay.” For some reason, saying that hurts a little. “I mean, a big part of me wants to, but—”
“You can’t.” He finishes for me. Then he quickly changes the subject. “I spent a lot of time cooking that dinner. Are you going to eat it?”
“Are you going to let me eat? It’s kind of impossible to do when you keep talking.”
He smiles and picks up my fork, stabbing a few pasta noodles, then he lifts it to my mouth.
As I close my mouth around the food, his eyes light up and he whispers, “Try not to use your teeth. I need to keep this visual for long after you leave.”
I don’t get a chance to laugh before he pulls me into his lap and kisses my lips.
“Let’s try this again,” he says, preparing another forkful of noodles. “This time, look like you’re really enjoying it...”
***
Blake walks me to my bedroom and wraps his arms around my waist. He gently pulls a bobby pin from my hair—letting a few ringlets fall in front of my forehead.
Pushing them away, he looks into my eyes. “Are you sleeping alone tonight?”
The question hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity.
I only have a few days left with him and I want to say no, I need to say no, but I can’t get my mouth to say a single word.
“Paris...” he rubs his hands against my bare back, running his thumb against the zipper of my dress. “Are you sleeping alone tonight?”
“Um...”
“Yes?”
“Yes...” I manage, and I notice a hint of sadness in his eyes.
He whispers “Okay,” and kisses me until I can’t breathe, until I absolutely regret giving him the wrong f**king answer.
Slowly tearing his mouth away from mine, he sighs. “I’ll be up late again. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Another night of case files?”
“Blue balls.” He smiles and kisses my cheek. “Goodnight, Paris.”
I slip into my room and silently curse myself.
I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me.
Adrian is out of the picture—has technically been for at least a year, and I want to have sex with Blake.
I want him to f**k me out of my mind like he claims he can—and I need to stop wasting my time. I made those resolutions for a reason, and I want to be able to put a checkmark next to every last one of them.
Taking a deep breath, I tell myself that time is getting shorter by the second, and I have nothing left to lose.
I walk over to the closet and change into one of the silk slips that he bought me. Then I head over to his bedroom.
Opening the door, I expect to see him reading over more case files, but he isn’t. He isn’t even here.
I’m about to walk out and search the rest of his house, but I hear a faint sound coming from behind his bathroom walls.
“Blake?” I knock on the door.
No answer.