Accidentally Amy(49)

And when he came back to her and looked down at her face, his face was so full of…something meaningful, something important, that she felt it in the backs of her eyes.
Blake swallowed, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, and she realized that she was waiting for a profession of love. His flared nostrils and flushed cheeks made him look like a man ready to spit sonnets, and she felt like she couldn’t bear the disappointment of what he wasn’t going to say.
So she grabbed his face and brought it to hers – hard – and tried showing him how she felt by kissing the everloving shit out of him, swallowing down the stupid tears that for some reason were really close to the surface.
He sucked in a breath and went even harder, kissing her like a storm, surrounding her with passion that was inescapable and wild, where shelter was nowhere to be found.
She wasn’t sure she was going to make it.
Izzy let go of his jaw, slid her hands down the front of his body, and touched him. Finally. He hissed her name and froze, tension hardening every muscle in that big body. He ground out the words, “Holy. Hell. Yes. Iz. Fuck.”
“Come on, Phillips,” she said against his mouth, overcome with need.
“So impatient,” he replied, lifting his head to give her a smirk.
She raised her hips and slid her body against his in response.
Apparently, that was all it took. His hands left her long enough to open a drawer and rip into a wrapper, and in a matter of seconds, he was sliding inside her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt all of him, so incredibly good and right and full and hot and gawwwwwwwd.
But then he said her name.
“Iz.”
She opened her eyes and he was watching her, looking like every wicked fantasy she’d ever had about him.
She swallowed. “Hi.”
That made him smile, the sweetest, most affectionate little grin, and he said, “I fucking love you.”
Her chest burned, her ears buzzed, and she wanted to freeze that moment forever.
But then Blake started moving, dominating her body with that sexpertise of his, and she lost the ability to think. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight as he made her burn. She might’ve blacked out at one point, and she definitely forgot how to form words for a solid ten seconds as he showcased just how good he was at pushing her to more than she'd known was possible, but she never wanted it to end.
Nothing in her life had ever felt quite that exquisite.
Well, until fifteen minutes later, when Blake wrapped his big body around hers, pulled the heavy comforter over them, kissed the top of her head, and turned out the light.
She felt like she was home.
And just like that, the worries that had plagued her disappeared. It was too late to turn back, so she was just going to listen to Blake.
Don’t be scared, Iz. Just take a deep breath and let yourself fall.
Really, what else could she do, now that she was already in love with him?


    Blake
Blake sat down on a kitchen stool and opened Outlook.
The clock on the microwave said 2:15, but he was still wide awake because he was haunted by the possibility that this could all come crashing to an end. Izzy, on the other hand, was totally out when he left her, looking adorable with her face buried in his pillow and his shirt on her back.
The sight of her there, sound asleep under his blanket, made him want so many fucking things.
But he couldn’t have them. Not yet.
Only…what if he could? He had to read the email.
He took a deep breath and opened the email attachment, ready to accept whatever he found.

Chapter 15

Blake
Blake paced around the kitchen as he texted: I know it’s the weekend, but is there any way we can meet up tomorrow? It’s important. Your office, Starbucks, your house - wherever.
He knew Brad wouldn’t respond in the middle of the night, but that man had bothered Blake after-hours so many times that he didn’t even feel bad for--
His phone buzzed. Holy shit - that was fast. Blake opened the message.
Brad: Can’t - at the lake house with the fam. Is everything okay?
Dammit. Blake sighed and responded: It’s fine, I just need to talk to you ASAP.
Brad: Early meeting on Monday? I can meet you at the 15th St. Starbucks at six.
Blake was usually the second person in the office every day; Brad was always the first. Six-thirty was his normal start time, which was probably why the man was on his third wife and had chronic high blood pressure. He replied: Six o’clock it is, but let the record show that I texted you the minute after I opened the updated org chart.
Brad: Noted.
Blake swiped out of his messages and plugged the phone into the kitchen charger. Hitting the lights, he exited the kitchen as the room plunged into semi-darkness. The city lights outside of the window provided a little illumination, which usually made him feel less alone when he couldn’t sleep.
But tonight the lights didn’t matter.
Because Izzy was wrapped in his blanket, his shirt on her body and his socks on her feet. He felt…whole. That seemed far too dramatic, fucking romantic, even, but whenever he was with her, he wanted nothing else. He thought of nothing else. Everything else ceased to exist. When he was with Izzy, he was with everything.
He walked through the living room, and even that looked different with her there. Her bag on the couch, her shoes on the floor, her shirt lying on the area rug as if she’d undressed on the way to bed.
It was strange, he thought, because he really liked tidiness. For some reason, though, seeing her things felt right. His apartment somehow felt more like home.
Shit, she was making him weak as hell.