Restraint, p.8
Restraint, page 8
Rather than call him to task for fighting, she offered his shoulder the same “healing” kiss.
Blake, the shameless man, was now smiling, despite the pain it was probably causing him. She understood why when he pointed to his lip.
She tilted her head. “Seriously?”
“I seem to recall helping you out a few weeks ago when you were having a bad night.”
It was the first time Blake had mentioned the masturbation lesson since the morning after.
“You did,” she said quietly, the devil on her shoulder telling her to give him the kiss he was asking for, while the angel warned her she was flirting with disaster.
Her angel usually won the arguments, so she couldn’t explain why she was bending forward once again.
She gave him a quick kiss, using all the willpower in her body to keep it as platonic and innocent as she could.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the problem. Blake was.
Because the second she started to pull away, he reached for her, gripping the nape of her neck, holding her in place while he stripped all the platonic out, replacing it with a kiss so passionate, Erika felt instantly light-headed.
She jerked when his tongue touched hers, but the shock didn’t linger. How could it? Blake was kissing her senseless. Every reasonable thought fled as she slid her tongue out to meet his, her fingers gripping his thick hair, while Blake twisted her head so he could deepen the kiss.
Erika wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but by the time she managed to regain her wits and pull away, she knew without a doubt they’d let it go on way too long.
She straightened, her gaze locked with Blake’s. They were both breathing heavily after depriving themselves of air while they’d kissed like the plane was going down.
“We took that too far,” she whispered, when the silence lingered.
She expected Blake to agree, but instead, he frowned.
“Blake,” she said, desperate for him to say something. Anything.
“I’m a sore loser,” he repeated.
She wasn’t sure what to make of that…because it suddenly didn’t feel like he was talking about the game anymore.
Especially when he added yet another apology—and a wicked grin that belied it. “Sorry, Erik.”
His cocky smile and use of her nickname calmed her nerves about stepping over the line—again. Enough that she could walk away. “Good night, Balakay.”
She locked his apartment door behind her, walking over to her own. Once she was inside, she leaned against her door, stroking her lips with the tips of her fingers, much like she had earlier on the couch.
She’d wished for a spark.
Well, she’d gotten one.
Unfortunately, it was with the wrong guy.
Chapter Five
Blake flipped through the channels, not landing on anything. He was too distracted. Three days had passed since he’d foolishly planted one on Erika, letting his damn jealousy get the better of him.
She’d gone on dates since moving in across the hall, so he wasn’t sure what was different about this Doug tool. Maybe it was because that guy had somehow managed more than one date—or the fact she hadn’t told him about any of them.
There were precious few secrets between him and Erika, so the idea that she’d hidden this guy—on purpose or not—bothered him. He liked knowing what was going on in her life, liked being her confidante, and he hated that she was dating some boring financial analyst named Doug.
Glancing over his shoulder, his gaze zeroed in on today’s square in the digital organizer. The two wall-mounted screens were the first thing Erika had bought them after they’d decided to co-parent Corky. He had one in his kitchen, and the other was in hers. The things linked so whenever she added something to hers, it showed up on his.
She was nothing if not organized, the woman in possession of not one, not two, but three planners, as well as countless colored pens and a stack of stickers as long as his arm. She fucking loved organizers, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when she outfitted them with the digital ones.
He had to admit they were pretty cool. The things were touchscreen, so it was easy to add and delete things as needed. Originally, the plan had been to simply use the shared organizers to post their work schedules so they would know who had Corky each night and when to plan ahead for nights when they’d need to hire Ashley to dog sit. However, he’d noticed that more and more information was being added to the organizers lately, including their day-to-day plans, like pizza nights with the gang, appointments, and—he sighed—apparently Erika’s dates.
Yesterday, he’d awoken to see a new item written under today’s date, proclaiming her dinner/movie plans with fucking Doug. It had already been his night to keep Corky, so he wasn’t sure why she added it. Maybe it was because the woman seriously couldn’t hold herself back when it came to writing things in her organizers.
Or maybe it was supposed to be a subtle message to him.
After all, Erika was the one who’d insisted from day one that the two of them should simply remain friends. And Blake hadn’t had a problem going along with that…until lately.
During the past few weeks, he’d started blurring lines, like the kiss and the masturbation lesson, while giving into—fuck—feelings he shouldn’t have for his best friend.
Blake blamed his prolonged bachelorhood on his job. He was on the road several nights a week, and when he’d first been drafted, he’d been too enamored with the countless puck bunnies lining up to warm his bed to consider settling down with one woman. Why eat cheeseburgers every night when there was steak and salmon and lasagna and a million other delicious things to sample?
But after ten years of dining from the all-you-can-eat buffet, he was hungry for something more, something meaningful. There was such a thing as too many choices, and lately all Blake wanted was comfort food.
He snorted to himself, aware that Erika would read him the riot act if she heard him comparing women to food. And there was no way in hell she’d appreciate being thought of as comfort food, even if he did mean it as a compliment.
Leaning his head back against the couch, he sighed. He needed to shrug off these feelings that had started to develop for Erika. Blake refused to ruin a great friendship when it was abundantly clear he was the only one fighting this desperate need to cross the line they had no business crossing. He’d kept a lid on his physical attraction to her for years, so why was he suddenly so obsessed with her lips, her legs that went on forever, her smile, her hourglass figure?
While he’d jerked off three times the night of his “lesson,” it hadn’t helped at all—not then or since. Hadn’t slaked his desire for more. For her.
Unfortunately, Erika hadn’t looked at him in the same light the morning after. Shit. Until he’d forced her, she wouldn’t look at him at all. And when she did, it was clear she was uncomfortable, not hot for more. Not that it should have surprised him.
There was no way Erika would have let it go as far as it had if she hadn’t been tipsy and sad, so obviously in the sober, harsh light of day, she’d gone back to her analytical ways, falling back on all those reasons why they couldn’t have sex.
And he’d let her. Desperate to put them back on firm foundation, swearing nothing had changed between them because he’d been worried she would push him away completely otherwise.
Mercifully, he’d talked her off the ledge that day…only to push her right back on it three nights ago when, in his grumpy asshole state, he’d pressed for a kiss “to make it better.” The joke had been on him because that hotter-than-hell, not-the-slightest-bit-platonic kiss had made everything worse. A lot worse.
Erika was too good a friend to slap him or reject him outright, so she’d gone the gentle route, quietly letting him know he’d taken it too far again.
Yeah, tell that to his dick.
Since then, he’d only seen Erika whenever they traded Corky, and during those times, she’d been perfectly friendly…but distant.
It was his fault he was suddenly looking at her and wanting more than friendship. His fault his cock had woken up and taken fucking notice of how gorgeous she was, with her shiny chestnut hair, her soulful dark brown eyes, and her smokin’-hot body. Erika had curves in all the right places.
“Fuck,” he muttered, feeling Corky stir next to him at the sound of his voice in the quiet room. He’d muted the TV while channel surfing, only just now aware of how stifling the silence felt.
He reached over and patted the tiny dog’s head, grinning when she licked his hand, her tail wagging, showing him how much she enjoyed his attention. “I keep fucking up with your mommy.”
The fact she was out on a date with Doug should tell him in bright neon letters he was the only one wishing the status quo between them would change from friends to lovers.
Corky shoved her head under his hand when he forgot to keep petting her.
“Shameless girl,” he said, chuckling. Corky had become quite adept at petting herself with his hand or, if she was laying on the floor, his foot.
Resuming his clicking, he finally stopped his search when he found a repeat of the old Predator movie. Turning off mute, he propped his feet on the coffee table and settled in to watch, repeating the words “get to the choppa” in his best Arnold impersonation. Not that Corky was impressed.
The two of them lay there for an hour before Corky’s head suddenly rose from his lap, her attention turning toward the front door.
She was better than any security service Blake could buy when it came to letting him know Erika was home. The dog scampered off his lap, dashing for the door, waiting for it to open.
Blake held his breath for a moment, hoping she’d said goodbye to Doug on the street so she could stop in to see him and check on Corky.
When nothing happened, he sighed. If Erika was home and alone, she would have come by here before returning to her apartment.
Which meant…
He leaned forward, trying to talk himself into staying on the couch. The pep talk failed miserably as he rose and joined Corky at the door.
Peering through the peephole, he growled when he spotted Erika and Doug standing outside her closed door. The guy was giving her one hell of a good-night kiss.
Blake knew he should give them some privacy. A decent man would walk away and stop spying on them. Unfortunately, he wasn’t decent. At this point, he wasn’t even fucking nice. Because what he did was the opposite of the smart thing.
He opened the door, then feigned surprise when he spotted Doug and Erika, both of whom quickly stepped away from each other.
“Sorry,” Blake said, as Corky sprinted across the hall, Erika bending to scoop the dog into her arms. “Thought Corky was whining because she needed to pee. Didn’t realize you were home.”
As far as lies, his was a whopper, and also a shitty one because it was instantly obvious to his intelligent neighbor that Corky wasn’t wearing a leash for their nightly walk.
Doug was studying him with a curious expression, so Erika offered introductions.
“Doug Prescott, this is my neighbor, Blake Wright. Blake, this is Doug.”
Doug glanced at Erika. “When you said you shared a dog with your neighbor Blake, I assumed you were talking about a woman.” Then the man’s gaze flew back to him. “Wait. Blake Wright?” Doug crossed the hall excitedly, his hand outstretched. “Holy shit! You’re a center for the Stingrays! I’m a huge fan. Try to make it to as many home games as I can during the season.”
Blake smiled, returning the man’s handshake, pointedly ignoring Erika’s narrowed eyes staring him down as if she was telepathically trying to tell him to fuck off.
“Nice to meet you,” Blake said.
Doug launched into a conversation about the previous night’s home game, which he’d apparently attended with some work colleagues. The two of them spent the next ten minutes rehashing the finer points of the game, which mercifully the Rays had won. Blake had even scored a goal, so it was easy for him to chat, secretly pleased that Doug was impressed by him. It soothed the ragged parts in Blake that were—fuck him—jealous that this man had gotten to take Erika out while he’d been hardcore relegated to the fucking friend zone.
Erika cleared her throat when the conversation carried on a bit too long.
“Oh damn. Sorry about that, Erika. I guess you busted me,” Doug said good-naturedly. “I’m a bona fide, hardcore sport’s fanatic. I usually try to hide that fact until at least the eighth date, lest I scare the woman away.”
Erika giggled at the man’s stupid joke. “I think I can deal with that. So long as your fandom doesn’t involve painting your face or chest.”
“No face paint.” Doug crossed his finger over his heart, and Blake scowled, annoyed to think this guy was getting too fucking close to that eighth date. According to Erika, they’d had two coffee dates and four dinner dates, counting tonight. Turning back to Blake, Doug gave him a single nod of his head. “It was great to meet you, Blake.”
“You too,” Blake said, proud of how sincere his lie sounded.
Erika placed Corky down, the dog scurrying back to Blake as Doug returned to her. It was apparent this was the part where Blake was supposed to say good night and return to his apartment.
He wanted to do that.
He really did.
But it was obvious Doug was waiting for Erika to invite him in for a nightcap. Blake wasn’t a hundred percent sure how he could stop that if she did, and he was a million percent sure he shouldn’t try.
Reluctantly, he began to move back inside, pausing when Erika gave Doug the brush-off, claiming she was working the early shift at the hospital. Blake knew from the digital organizer that she didn’t have to be at work until noon, and because he was him, he smirked to let her know he knew she was fibbing.
She shot him a dirty look that left him feeling less chastised and more amused as he called Corky’s name, guiding her into his apartment to shut the door.
He hadn’t made it three steps away from the door before it flew open. Blake twisted, grinning widely.
“What the hell was that?” She slammed the door behind her.
Blake frowned, pretending the question confused him. “What was what?”
“Why did you open your door?”
“I told you—” He started to repeat his lie, but Erika cut him off, rolling her eyes.
“Please. You didn’t even have Corky’s leash in your hand. You were spying on me.”
He crossed his arms. “You can hardly call it spying when I was standing right where you could see me. I just wanted to meet the guy. See if he’s good enough for you.”
Erika placed her hands on her hips, and while he could see she was trying to be pissed, he didn’t think she was as annoyed as she was acting. “Who I date is none of your business.”
Blake shook his head. “Bullshit. You’re my best friend, Erik. You can be damn sure I’m going to check out your boyfriends to make sure you’re not only safe but with someone who will treat you the way you deserve.”
Erika tilted her head but didn’t respond. He’d taken the wind out of her sails.
“Why didn’t you invite him in?” He was curious if he’d changed the course of her evening or if she’d always intended to send the guy packing.
“I should have. I mean…I was thinking about it.”
Blake frowned. “Thinking about it? The guy walked you all the way upstairs. Seems to me like you’d already decided.”
She shook her head. “I hadn’t.” Then she glanced back at the closed door. “Oh my God. Do you think I was giving Doug mixed signals? He was the one who offered to walk me up. When he kissed me good night, I was trying to decide…” Her words faded away.
“You were trying to decide while he was kissing you?”
She shrugged. “I like him, and we have a good time together, but I’m just not sure I’m ready to take the next step.”
Doug couldn’t be much of a kisser if Erika was standing there making a list of pros and cons while the guy was laying one on her. He was tempted to tell her as much, but he knew her well enough to know that would really annoy her.
If he was a good friend, he’d convince her to invite Doug in the next time for a sleepover. The woman had gone too long between sexual encounters.
“When was the last time you had sex?”
Erika shook her head. “I’m not talking about sex with you again. We already had that conversation.”
“More than two years? Three?” he guessed.
The way she stilled told him he was on the right track. “Why do you think that?”
“I live across the hall, Erik. Never, not once, have I seen any guy leaving your place in the morning…or in the middle of the night, for that matter.
“Just because I don’t have a revolving door of lovers coming in and out of my place, doesn’t mean I’m never getting laid.” Her cheeks were flushed that adorable pink that told him she was lying though her teeth.
“My apartment is hardly a revolving door, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” Blake headed to the kitchen, peering into his refrigerator. “Beer, wine, tea, coffee, or OJ?”
She followed him, leaning on the island counter. “Beer.”
He popped the tops off two Coronas, handing her one.
“No lime?”
He chuckled. “Snob. I’ll put them on the grocery list for next time.”
They tapped their bottles together, not bothering to make a toast, each of them taking a long swig.
“So you like this guy?” Blake asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
“I guess so.”
She was the queen of vague when it came to subjects she didn’t want to discuss. Usually he let her get away with it, but not this time.
Blake took another quick sip. “You’ve gone out with him more than any other guy in the past few years. So I’m going to go out on a limb and say you like him.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
Jesus. She was a professional when it came to being elusive. Not that it mattered. He knew exactly how to get her to talk. “It’s a shame he’s such a shitty kisser.”
