and stammered, eventually confessing with a nod. "I still want to ask you something."
"Is it about the scars?"
"Huh?" He glanced down at my side and shook his head dismissively. He'd forgotten? "No, I was wondering if you believe in fate."
"No."
"How about destiny or, I dunno... karmic balance?"
"Aren't they three ways of saying the same thing?" Where the hell was he going with this? And how could you just forget about those scars? "Still no."
"Wishes?"
I froze solid in my place. Wasn't it just last week I'd been musing over 'be careful what you wish for'? I'd wished him, but had I wished for this? "I may have recently come across some supporting evidence for granted wishes."
"Me too." His fingers strayed up to my face and stroked away a few rogue tendrils. "Maybe it was a fluke."
"Only one way to find out." I wiggled my eyebrows at him suggestively and tugged him towards my flat.
"Now? Are you insatiable?"
"Yes. Would you rather sit on it and have it weigh on your mind?"
No, he didn't. He didn't say another word until my door was open and he had me wrapped around him again, speaking only to ask which way my bedroom was. There was no question that we were on fire this way, lost in each other and so attuned it was like we'd each been created with the other in mind. He was a selfish lover as I'd expected, and it drove him crazy when I tugged at his hair, bit his lips or dug my nails into his back to bring him back into line. In return, he knew just how to touch me to keep me satisfied and stimulated, physically and mentally.
That compatibility was driven into me in my bedroom, in my kitchen, in my bathroom, and came to rest on my couch, where Blaze curled around me and toyed with my hair mindlessly while I fought off slumber. There was a sense of calm I'd not felt for years, if ever, and I was far too pleasantly exhausted to feel guilty about it.
"You look sensational spread out like this," Blaze purred at my ear, nipping the lobe gently, "sedate, pacified. So far removed from the woman who sat in that pizzeria with me earlier."
"It's you," I purred back, "you've done something wicked to me."
"Well I'm glad. You're smouldering. Glowing."
"Blazing?" He smirked down at me, but the intent of his smile shifted quickly. His gaze was fiercer and hotter than I'd ever seen it— positively incendiary. I whispered an apology and tried to squirm out of his hold, regretting making him feel so... what? What did he feel?
"Why are you apologising?" He wrapped around me tighter, making it clear that he didn't want me to escape. How deep did that desire run?
"The way you're looking at me. I just felt like I needed to apologise."
He sucked in a breath and leaned his forehead down against mine. "Don't. You don't know what it is you're looking at." With yet another cryptic remark and the gentle kisses he laid across my face, I fell into a deep, restful sleep.
When I woke up, he was gone, leaving nothing but the bags of clothes from Oxford Street and the anonymous suit's money clip as his calling card.
" YOU’RE WEARING YOUR hair down." Daniel pulled me from my thoughts of the vanished enigma that was Blaze with his observation and a glass of wine as he and Jonathan took their usual seats opposite me in Esme's. "You haven't worn it down in years. It gets in the way."
"Blaze likes it down." I rolled my eyes at myself for doing something so juvenile. So what if he liked me to wear my hair loose? He wasn't there. He probably wouldn't ever be there again. Five minutes away from me and he probably started to think rationally about all that had been thrown at him that afternoon.
"And new clothes?" Jonathan leaned across the table to examine the stitching on the uncharacteristically form fitting blazer wrapped around me. Once I'd taken a bitter sweet look at the haul from the shopping trip, I'd realised that my new wardrobe was actually rather impressive and really gave me no excuses to keep wearing the
"Is it about the scars?"
"Huh?" He glanced down at my side and shook his head dismissively. He'd forgotten? "No, I was wondering if you believe in fate."
"No."
"How about destiny or, I dunno... karmic balance?"
"Aren't they three ways of saying the same thing?" Where the hell was he going with this? And how could you just forget about those scars? "Still no."
"Wishes?"
I froze solid in my place. Wasn't it just last week I'd been musing over 'be careful what you wish for'? I'd wished him, but had I wished for this? "I may have recently come across some supporting evidence for granted wishes."
"Me too." His fingers strayed up to my face and stroked away a few rogue tendrils. "Maybe it was a fluke."
"Only one way to find out." I wiggled my eyebrows at him suggestively and tugged him towards my flat.
"Now? Are you insatiable?"
"Yes. Would you rather sit on it and have it weigh on your mind?"
No, he didn't. He didn't say another word until my door was open and he had me wrapped around him again, speaking only to ask which way my bedroom was. There was no question that we were on fire this way, lost in each other and so attuned it was like we'd each been created with the other in mind. He was a selfish lover as I'd expected, and it drove him crazy when I tugged at his hair, bit his lips or dug my nails into his back to bring him back into line. In return, he knew just how to touch me to keep me satisfied and stimulated, physically and mentally.
That compatibility was driven into me in my bedroom, in my kitchen, in my bathroom, and came to rest on my couch, where Blaze curled around me and toyed with my hair mindlessly while I fought off slumber. There was a sense of calm I'd not felt for years, if ever, and I was far too pleasantly exhausted to feel guilty about it.
"You look sensational spread out like this," Blaze purred at my ear, nipping the lobe gently, "sedate, pacified. So far removed from the woman who sat in that pizzeria with me earlier."
"It's you," I purred back, "you've done something wicked to me."
"Well I'm glad. You're smouldering. Glowing."
"Blazing?" He smirked down at me, but the intent of his smile shifted quickly. His gaze was fiercer and hotter than I'd ever seen it— positively incendiary. I whispered an apology and tried to squirm out of his hold, regretting making him feel so... what? What did he feel?
"Why are you apologising?" He wrapped around me tighter, making it clear that he didn't want me to escape. How deep did that desire run?
"The way you're looking at me. I just felt like I needed to apologise."
He sucked in a breath and leaned his forehead down against mine. "Don't. You don't know what it is you're looking at." With yet another cryptic remark and the gentle kisses he laid across my face, I fell into a deep, restful sleep.
When I woke up, he was gone, leaving nothing but the bags of clothes from Oxford Street and the anonymous suit's money clip as his calling card.
" YOU’RE WEARING YOUR hair down." Daniel pulled me from my thoughts of the vanished enigma that was Blaze with his observation and a glass of wine as he and Jonathan took their usual seats opposite me in Esme's. "You haven't worn it down in years. It gets in the way."
"Blaze likes it down." I rolled my eyes at myself for doing something so juvenile. So what if he liked me to wear my hair loose? He wasn't there. He probably wouldn't ever be there again. Five minutes away from me and he probably started to think rationally about all that had been thrown at him that afternoon.
"And new clothes?" Jonathan leaned across the table to examine the stitching on the uncharacteristically form fitting blazer wrapped around me. Once I'd taken a bitter sweet look at the haul from the shopping trip, I'd realised that my new wardrobe was actually rather impressive and really gave me no excuses to keep wearing the
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