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"It’s been awhile now." His jaw tightens. "Listen, it's getting late. I should head out before your mom needs anything."
"You don't have to go." I press closer, trying to recapture the intimacy from earlier. "Stay. Talk to me."
"Nothing interesting to share." He kisses my temple, but it feels distant. "Some stories aren't worth telling."
The warmth from dinner fades, replaced by a chill I can't explain. Every attempt to know him better hits a wall. He knows everything about my life, my mom, my work, my dreams. But his past remains a mystery, locked away where I can't reach.
"Everyone's story is worth telling," I whisper against his chest.
His arms tighten around me for a moment. "Not mine."
Blaise's silence wraps around us like a heavy blanket. I trace the ink visible at his collar, wanting to bridge this sudden distance between us. His skin burns hot beneath my fingertips.
"Hey." I tilt my face up, meeting those mesmerizing green eyes. "You don't have to tell me everything. Just… don't shut me out."
His breath catches. Something dark and unreadable flashes across his face before he captures my lips with his. The kiss starts gentle, almost hesitant, but quickly blazes into something more. My fingers curl into his shirt as he pulls me closer, practically into his lap.
My heart pounds against my ribs. Every brush of his lips, every stroke of his hands sets my skin on fire. I've never felt anything like this, an all-consuming need that makes me forget everything else. The questions, the mysteries, they all fade away under the heat of his touch.
"Jenna," he breathes against my mouth, and my name sounds like a prayer and a curse wrapped into one.
I press closer, wanting to dissolve into him completely. His fingers tangle in my hair, tilting my head back as his lips trail down my neck. A soft moan escapes me. The intensity of my feelings for him overwhelms me. I feel like I won’t be able to breathe without him.
His hands slide down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I arch into him, lost in the storm of sensation and emotion. Nothing has ever felt this right, this perfect.
When he pulls back, I know he’s going to try and leave, but I’m not ready. “Come with me.” I stand and reach for his hand. I guide Blaise down to my bedroom.
"Your mom…" he breathes against my ear.
"She's asleep. Her meds knock her out." I twist the doorknob, tugging him inside.
Blaise pushes the door shut and pulls me against him. His mouth claims mine, hungry and demanding. My fingers fumble with his shirt buttons while his hands slide under my top, skimming bare skin.
“So you liked what happened on the picnic,” he murmurs against my neck.
“Yes. I want this. Want you."
His thumbs trace circles on my hips. "But we don't have to…”
Does he not want to? “I know I’m not as pretty?—”
“You can shut the fuck up about that.” His hands cup my cheeks. “You’re beautiful, Jenna. Beautiful and sexy.” He kisses me again, and I press against him, feeling the hard length of his erection. He groans low in his chest, and suddenly, I'm airborne, tossed on the bed. He quickly follows, tugging his clothes off quickly and then lying over me.
“Do you think you can do this without screaming my name when I make you come and waking up your mother?”
A laugh bubbles up in my chest. "I think I can manage.” I arch a brow. “How about you?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” His eyes glitter in the darkness as he hovers over me.
My hands slide up his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my palms. This moment feels stolen, secret, special. Just ours.
Blaise's lips trace a path down my neck, his touch feather-light. Every brush sends sparks through my body. I bite my lip to keep quiet when his hands slide under my shirt, finding my sensitive nipples, squeezing, rubbing until I’m writhing and moaning beneath him.
"Shh," he whispers, and I can feel his smile against my skin. His weight presses me into the mattress, grounding me as my head spins with desire.
I arch into him, gasping softly as his hands wander. He swallows my sounds with kisses. The thrill of secrecy, of potentially being caught, adds an edge to every touch. My nails dig into his shoulders when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.
"Easy, love," he breathes against my ear. "Don't want to wake anyone."