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"Thank you." I take a seat at the counter. This smells like heaven, but I force myself to dig in slowly.
Mmm. Fluffy eggs. And they're fresh. I didn't even know eggs could taste fresh.
The peppers are crunchy. The tomatoes are sweet.
"I admit it. You're a good cook." I shovel another bite of omelet into my mouth.
Blake sits next to me. He takes a patient bite.
His eyes pass over me.
I try to slow down.
"You don't have to do that." He sips his coffee. "I like you messy."
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. "That's hard to believe." I motion to the perfectly clean apartment.
"Who says I want it that way?"
"Twenty bucks. It says you spend plenty to keep it this clean."
He chuckles. "True. But it's too clean. I've had too much of clean." He stares back into my eyes. "I've had too much of uncomplicated."
I swallow hard. "Oh?"
"You remember what I said that first night at my office?"
"That was a long time ago."
He brushes his thumb against my chin, wiping off a drop of coffee. "When you're with me, you won't want for anything."
Heat spreads through my body. I force myself to turn back to my breakfast. "I haven't." Mostly. There is one thing he can't give me, but Blake was always clear about love being out of the question.
I finish my eggs and coffee then get to work on the raspberries.
Blake watches me. He steals a berry off my plate and pops it into his mouth.
Ah, two can play that game.
I steal an orange slice off his plate and tear into it. Juice drips from my lips. Off my chin. Onto my chest.
Blake laughs. He catches the juice on his thumb and brings it to his lips.
He stares into my eyes as he sucks on the digit.
It shouldn't be sexy, but it is.
I slide off the stool and place my body in front of his.
He presses one hand into my lower back. The other slides through my hair.
He kisses me hard. Like he can't get enough.
No. It's not like.
He can't get enough.
I can't either.
I still can't say this with words. They've never been my strong suit.
But this—my body against his—I can say it like this.
I love you.
Be mine.
Be mine forever. For real. For everything.
I tug at his t-shirt. I slide my tongue into his mouth.
It isn't enough.
I need more.
I need everything.
Blake shifts off his stool. He presses his body against mine.
Everything in me relaxes.
This is exactly where we're supposed to be. Domestic bliss and sex and love and everything. In his kitchen. In the apartment that can be ours. In a life that can be ours.
He slides his hands under my ass and lifts me onto the kitchen island.
I wrap my legs around him.
He pulls my tank top off my head.
No teasing today. He brings his hands to my breasts and rubs my nipples with his thumbs.
He's giving me what I need.
I kiss him harder.
Arch my back to rub my crotch against his.
I comb my fingers through his hair, holding his head against mine, letting everything pour from me to him.
When he breaks our kiss, I'm shaking.
I pull his t-shirt over his head. "Now. Please."
He nods as he tugs at my pajama bottoms.
I place my hands behind my back, lifting my hips so he can get them off my ass.
They fell to my knees. My ankles.
I kick them off my feet.
He steps out of his bottoms.
We're naked in the kitchen.
But I don't feel exposed.
I feel seen. Like somehow I'm getting both versions of Blake.
Like maybe we can understand each other this well all the time.
I dig my hands into his hair and pull him into a kiss.
He brings his hands to my hips and guides me into position.
His cock strains against me.
Slowly, he enters me.
Fuck.
Heat floods my body.
But it's more than desire. I'm one with him. With him and not with the sex-crazed animal. This is the Blake with the sad blue eyes and the heart-stopping laugh and the tendency to pull away.
He's mine.
And I'm his.
And it makes sense.
The world makes sense.
He kisses me back.
I rock my hips in time with his. Taking everything he has to give me. Offering everything I have to give him.
Almost…
There.
With his next thrust, I come. My sex pulses around him. I dig my nails into his skin, pulling him closer, making him mine.
He groans back against my mouth.
He pulls me closer as he thrusts into me.
Then he's there, holding me tightly as he pulses inside me.
Mine.
We stay pressed together for a long, long time.
And it really is perfect.
Like I'm exactly where I belong.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I give Blake the day.
We wander around the Met all morning, eat lunch at the cafe, wander around the park all afternoon.
It feels like spring. Bright yellow sun, brisk air, green grass, flowers blooming with pops of color.
The world is awake and alive.
And I am too.
This is what I want. Everything I want.
We walk around the park until the sunset streaks the sky orange.
Blake stops at a bench and pulls me onto his lap. He presses his lips into mine.
It's soft. Sweet. Perfect.
When we break, I try hard to keep my gaze on the sky.
It refuses. His face is a million times more captivating. Those blue eyes of his are gorgeous. And t
hey're filled with every bit of emotion in the world.
He leans closer. One hand pressed between my shoulder blades. The other brushes stray hairs behind my ears.
"Come to Paris with me." His voice is vulnerable. Like my answer has the power to break him. "We can spend the week having sex. We can go to every museum in Europe. I already have my schedule cleared."
"It's convenient?"
His expression stays soft. "That isn't it." He runs his fingertips over my cheek. "I want to be there with you. I want the week with you."
Warmth fills me. It starts in my chest and spreads through my tummy. I take a deep breath. This is so close to everything I want.
But it's not enough.
"And then what?" I ask.
"Then we'll be together." His voice is sweet. Sincere. "I like having you around."
"Is that all—that you like having me around?" I dig my fingers into his shoulders. I force myself to stare back into his eyes.
His fingers skim my cheek. "I care about you, Kat."
The word makes my skin crawl. Care. I swallow hard. "Is that all it is?"
"We'd be happy."
Maybe. But that's not enough.
He runs his hand through my hair. It soothes me and lights me up in equal measures. It's everything.
But it's not enough.
"I'm in love with you, Blake." I make my voice as confident as I can. "I'm madly in love with you, and it drives me crazy. I can't eat or sleep. I can't think about anything else. I can't even draw anything else. I try, but somehow everything goes back to you."
I stare into his eyes, trying to find some reaction. There's only one thing I can see, and it's not love. It's not joy that I'm finally telling him this.
He's afraid.
He's afraid of my feelings.
"Kat."
"I understand you don't believe in love. You don't think you're capable of it. Whatever it is, fine. If that's really how you feel, fine." I squeeze the fabric of his sweater. "But I can't be with you unless you love me. Unless you're madly in love with me."
He goes to touch my cheek but I stop him.
"Don't do that." I stare into his eyes, but it doesn't help me understand what we're doing here. "You don't have to answer now. You can think about it."
"Kat." His voice sinks.
Deep breath. "If you are in love with me, then I will go to Paris with you. I'll go anywhere with you. But it's all or nothing, Blake. I can't be with someone who doesn't love me."
