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Eventually, everything begins to slow down again, but Blaise continues to kiss me long after that. It’s like he can’t stop himself. To be honest, I could’ve stayed that way forever. Then his phone starts going on, over and over again, the buzzing incessant.
“Fuck,” Blaise gripes as he breaks the kiss.
He’s more irritated than I’ve ever seen him as he rolls over, stretches his arm out, and snatches the phone off his nightstand.
“This better be good, or I’m going to kick your ass,” he growls into the phone, causing me to giggle.
The corners of his lips quirk at the sound, but then he frowns at whatever the person on the line says.
“It hasn’t been that long … What …?” He moves the phone back to glance at the screen. “Shit.” He returns the phone to his ear. “Yeah, we’ll be down in a few minutes.” He hangs up and tosses the phone onto the bed. “That was Ryder, calling to bitch me out for us taking too long to get downstairs.”
I sit up. “It hasn’t been that long.”
“Actually, it has,” he informs me. “It’s past one o’clock in the morning.”
My eyes widen. When I headed downstairs earlier, it was barely midnight, which means Blaise and I have been fooling around for almost an hour.
“We should probably get downstairs then.” I frown. I’m not sure why. Or maybe I am but hate admitting it.
The truth is, I can lock myself away in the bedroom with Blaise all I want and pretend nothing happened, but once we leave, I have to face the truth. And, depending on what it is, I may never get a moment like this again with him. Because what if I can’t forgive what they did?
“We should get you cleaned up and dressed,” Blaise murmurs as he fiddles with the edge of my bra, pausing before pulling it over my exposed nipple. Then his fingers trail up to my neck. “Did you bring any clothes with you?”
Facepalm.
“No, actually.” I grimace as I scoot toward the edge of the bed and eye my dress lying haphazardly on the floor. “I guess I can slip that on and go get some.” And clean the mess he left on my stomach.
“Or you can just wear my shirt and a pair of my boxers?” Blaise suggests, the mattress concaving as he scoots beside me and lowers his feet to the floor.
I arch a brow at him. “You want me to go downstairs wearing your clothes?”
“Only if you want to,” he replies quickly.
I think he might want me to. If I do, Ryder and Reece will probably be suspicious of what Blaise and I were doing in his room. Then again, we’ve been up here long enough that they likely already suspect that.
Why do I even care? I spent the last three years living a repressed life. Perhaps it’s time for me to do whatever the fuck I want. I mean, what are they going to do? Force me into another fate ceremony?
I smile at him and brush my fingers through a stray lock of his hair. “Okay, yeah, get me a shirt and a pair of boxers to wear.”
His eyes sparkle with a lightness I haven’t seen from him in a long time. Then he gets up, wanders into the bathroom, and returns with a washcloth.
“Lie down,” he instructs, and his lips quirk when I easily obey.
He cleans the mess off my stomach then tosses the washcloth into the hamper before opening his dresser and digging out a pair of boxers and a T-shirt.
When he returns to me, I take one look at the shirt he has in his hand and instantly get thrown down memory lane.
“You remember when we went to that concert?” he asks, giving me the shirt.
Nodding, I slip the shirt over my head and breathe in the scent of his cologne clinging to the fabric. “It was the first concert I ever went to.” I stand up as he hands me a pair of boxers, and I pull them on. “And the last.” Because Blaise was my music buddy, and only weeks later, our friendship ended, so did my concert partner.
The corners of his lips tip downward as mine do. Before he can say anything, though, I slip my fingers through his.
“Come on; I’m ready to hear the truth.”
THIRTY-ONE
ALLURA
