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Gently, he pulls out, and lays me back on the bed, curling up next to me, his arm draped over my stomach.
"I don't think I have a choice, Lily." He trails his fingers up and down my side.
"What do you mean?"
"I'd do anything for you. I don't think I could stop loving you even if I tried."
"Blake . . . " I grab his face and kiss him, my stomach clenching at his words.
I want him . . . again.
I tilt my head to deepen the kiss and as my tongue caresses his, his erection grows against my leg. Keeping my lips on his, I twist to straddle him and for the next hour, I lead us into oblivion.
I've dressed in my normal Interpol attire, weapons and all. Last night with Blake was mind-blowing, and as I sip my coffee, my face grows warm remembering the way his hands felt on my hips. I pull out my cell phone— seven a.m.
I intend to sneak out this morning with Dresden. Watching Blake sleep last night, the realization of the danger he's in really hit me, and I need to know he can defend himself. He's skilled in martial arts, but I need to know he has something more powerful behind him.
The heavy echo of footsteps bounces off the walls as I reach for the pen and paper in the middle of the counter.
Blake,
I'm running a few errands with Dresden. Please stay in the apartment. We all need to talk when I get back.
If for some reason you or your family cannot follow the above order, then I'd like to remind you that you're not to leave this apartment without a security detail. If YOU have to go out, take Vlad and Rhett with you. If Shannon or your parents need to go anywhere, they should do so with Hayato and Jameson.
Don't argue. I know what you're thinking. I've seen Hayato kill someone with the glass panel off a cell phone. Stay in the apartment.
Lily
I fold the letter and write Blake's name across the front, leaving it on the table. Standing, I take a final sip of my coffee, leaving the mug, and turning to face Dresden.
"Ready?"
Dresden has never looked so professional. He's wearing dark blue jeans and a button down with a black undershirt and boots. It's the first time I've seen him in something other than cut-offs and muscle shirts.
"Don't you look fancy," I say.
"I could say the same for you." He smirks, allowing his eyes to travel up and down my body.
I chuckle, remembering the first time I met Dresden. He was twenty-five and I was seventeen. I was practicing with throwing knives when he walked up behind me, called me a 'sweet lil' thing', and instinctively, I turned and put a knife to his throat.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Do you remember the first time we met?"
He chuckles. "Yes, I do. Never had a woman put a knife to my throat before then, or since. I still can't believe you were only seventeen." He shakes his head in disbelief.
"Yeah. Bet you feel bad for eye fucking me from across the training room all those years," I say, teasing, as the elevator door opens and we move into the lobby.
His face tightens, eyes darkening as anger simmers behind his green irises. Reaching out, I grab his bicep and twist him around to face me. He averts his eyes. My foot taps impatiently against the marble floor.
"What?"
"Explain the mood, Dres. I was kidding."
"Well, joking or not, you hit the nail on the head."
I roll my eyes. "Dresden, don't ruin our outing. I should feel bad about all that, not you."