Chapter 17

His question surfaces my moment of intimacy with Francisco's best-looking bartender. It happened out of nowhere. I mean, didn't it? One moment I was ready to hop out of the car. The next I had Cade's warm lips pressed against mine.

I run a shaky hand through my hair and join Blake in staring out the window as I try to collect my thoughts.

A few people bustle across the street. The sound of muted car horns filter past the thick glass of the window. It reminds me of being in Cade's car, his hand running along my thigh, and his bright smile gleaming under the city lights. I shake the image from my mind, forcing my attention back to Blake's question.

Is Cade a better kisser?

Fuck.

Why am answering this type of question anyway? I'm not gay.

"I wasn't paying attention," I answer.

I don't know how else to respond. It's the type of question a chick would ask me – minus the whole rugged, bad-ass type of vibe. It's embarrassing that it's now coming from a dude. It's even more embarrassing admitting that I kissed two men in the first place.

Technically, though, I didn't kiss them. They kissed me.

Yea. That's better.

Blake turns towards me, hands relaxed on his lean hips. His few inches of extra height seem to tower over me, and the hardness of his expression makes my stomach flip-flop.

"Well," he says. "I was paying attention. Now answer the question."

I rub at the back of my neck. Most people in this situation would want to get out of it as fast as possible. Hell, I thought I would too. But seeing Blake this pissed off...it's hot. I lick my lips, knowing what I say next is both the wrong and dishonest answer.

"Fine," I say. "Cade's better."

Blake's eyes flash with rage and...hurt?

"Is that so?" he whispers.

The challenge in his voice is almost palpable. A shiver steals down my spine. He takes a step towards me, closing the already short distance between us. My back is shoved against the living room window, the coolness of it passing through the light fabric of my shirt.

Blake looks down at me, his head tilting to the side. He studies my face. Our closeness doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest. My pulse begins racing and I try to steady my breathing. The city lights shine through the window, casting seductive shadows across Blake's features.

His masculine scent envelops me. Then he lowers his voice and I damn near whimper.

"No response?" Blake whispers. "Then let me refresh your memory."

I close my eyes, knowing what's going to happen before it does. Wanting it to happen before it does. Blake closes the remaining inches separating us and lowers his lips to mine.

It's electrifying.

He reaches for my hip, gripping me hard. The pressure of his fingertips sends a pulse of desire to my groin, causing me to twitch with desire. His other hand becomes tangled in my disheveled hair, holding me in place while his kiss devours me.

The trace of stubble lining his jaw rubs against my chin. The friction is a sensual contrast to his soft and demanding lips. Our kiss is rougher than it was with Cade.

And I'm enjoying the hell out of it.

I fight back a moan when Blake rubs against me. His hips brush against mine. Only this time, feeling his erection doesn't snap me out of the moment. It pushes it further. The familiar itch to touch him tickles the pads of my fingertips.

Tentatively, I reach forward. I slip my hand under the hem of Blake's white t-shirt. My fingers explore his stomach, tracing over his lean muscle and long torso. His kiss deepens when I do this, a passionate kiss becoming lustful.

My index finger circles around his navel, and it takes all my strength not to reach down and feel more of him.

"Try again," Blake pants, effectively stopping the best kiss of my life. "Who's the better kisser?"

I stammer, trying to find my sense of wit to piss him off more. Trying to find the words that I know will get more from him, physically. My mouth isn't in line with my hazy brain, though, and I'm left with a pathetic sigh of admittance.

"Say it," Blake demands. "Say I'm better."

"You're better," I breathe in defeat.

I can feel his lips tightening into a grin. "That's better."

He releases his hold on me. My scalp prickles now that his fingers are no longer tugging at the ends of my hair. My hip feels cold without his hand tightening around it. I lick my lips, tasting just a hint of blood from the roughness of our kiss.

The whole thing has me reeling. I make sure my feet are firmly planted and glance up at Blake who adjusts his shirt before taking a seat on the couch. His breathing is back to normal. If I hadn't felt his dick pressing against my pants, I'd question whether or not he enjoyed the moment we just shared.

If he hadn't, would I care?

Yes.

The answer that forms in my mind leaves me scowling. Kissing this dude is one thing. Caring about him? That's another. And it's something I refuse to do – no matter what the gender is.

When I gain control of my breathing, I straighten my spine and focus on the door. I need to leave. The only thoughts spinning through my head deal with Blake. I want another kiss. I want to be touched by him.

Dare I say fucked by him?

I grit my teeth and walk through the living room, ignoring the heat of Blake's gaze as he watches me pass.

"Leaving so soon?" he asks quietly.

"I'm tired," I lie.

I mean, it could be true. Even if it isn't, Cade made it seem like he wanted me to text him. With how frazzled my mind is right now, maybe a visit from Cade wouldn't be so bad after all. I turn to face Blake to once again snag his attention. To my surprise, however, his eyes are still on me.

"Go grab your things," he instructs.

"What?"

"Your personal belongings. Your suitcase. I want you packed up and in my room again in under ten minutes."

My mouth drops open. "Wha...why? No. Fuck you."

The insult flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. The audacity of this prick is infuriating. Fagtoid Phil was here only a few hours ago traipsing across Blake's room like he owned the place. Now that he's gone Blake expects me to just bend to his every request?

Not happening.

Blake props his elbows up on his knees. "Do you like being so disagreeable, Callum? Do you enjoy when I get so angry that I have a hard time controlling myself around you?"

Yes.

"No."

"I don't believe you."

Silence.

Blake lowers his voice and picks up the remote. He twirls it around in a circle with his fingertips. "Tell me, Callum. Do you push me so hard because you like the way I react? Do you like when I touch you?"

That fluttering in my stomach picks up again. Then Blake smirks, and it is such a dark grin that I wonder what thoughts are behind it. Pain? Pleasure?

...both?

"No," I lie again. "I just enjoy standing up to an arrogant prick who is used to getting his way."

Blake chuckles and shakes his head. "Ah, Callum. If I was getting my way, you'd be laying in my bed right now with your legs wrapped around my waist, and me fucking all my frustrations out on you."

My jaw drops.

"And in any case, your response is faulty," Blake says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You wouldn't get hard that fast if you didn't enjoy the way I handled you."

"I wasn't hard for you," I spit out in response. "I was still hard from my kiss with Cade."

I suck in a breath and lower my gaze. My words are one of my only defense mechanisms, and with Blake, they seem to trickle out more often than not.

The silence after my false statement sizzles with heat. Blake stands from the couch. He stomps over to me, his fingers curling around my wrists. The pressure of his touch is hard enough to leave a bruise. But underneath his touch is possessive desire.

It's intoxicating.

...all the more reason why I have to get the hell out of here. And fast.

I squirm out of Blake's grip. It takes some strength, but when I am free from his hold, he doesn't chase after me. I sprint to the elevator and hit the 'down' button over and over again until the doors open for me.

It isn't until they close behind me that I manage to take a breath. With shaking hands I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. No messages.

Then I pull out the now-crumpled piece of paper and, with trembling fingers, type Cade's number into my phone. I need to clear my mind. Being alone sounds just about as nerve-wracking as being around Blake.

So that leaves only one option.

Me: Cade. It's Callum. You still free to stop over?