Accidentally Amy(53)

“I need a soda,” she said, getting up. “Want something?”
His dark eyes were all over her, a smile on his lips, and she muttered pervert before rolling her eyes and going into the kitchen. Blake walked in when she was closing the refrigerator, and the sight of him, in his socks in her kitchen, made her happy. Incandescently happy.
So weird, right? But VP Blake in his stockinged feet was a glorious sight to behold. Sweats, messy hair - man, she wanted it all.
“You want a Dr. Pepper?” she asked.
“Actually, I should probably take off. Tomorrow is going to be a stressful day at work, so I should be a good boy and get a decent night’s sleep. Y’know, since someone kept me up all night.”
She couldn’t stop the disappointment, even though they’d both said over their living room pizza picnic that they needed to stay at their respective apartments with work hovering in the morning.
“Yeah - get out,” she said. “I’m done with you anyway.”
“Nope.” He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, tightly, lifting her off the ground as he added, “We’re only getting started.”
She tried to be cool, but it was impossible not to smile at that because she just freaking adored him. She adored him and wanted everything.
So she looked away from his face before he could see her adoration and she changed the subject.
“Did you know that when you set me on the table yesterday, I kind of thought you wanted to sex me up? On the butcher block dinette?”
His gaze moved over the span of her face, like he was trying to see if she were serious or not, and then he lifted her higher and carried her over to the table. Her heart started racing as he gave her that look, plopped her on the table, pushed her knees apart and stepped closer.
“Were you into it, Iz?” His voice got quiet quiet and a little growly as he dragged his mouth along her jawline, as his big hands slowly slid the oversized t-shirt up her hips. He raised his head and asked, “Were you down for some table action?”
“Yes,” she sighed, looking straight into his eyes. “I seem to be into everything when it comes to you.”
Something in his face changed when she said that. All at once he looked sweet and serious, and he leaned closer and rested his forehead against hers. He swallowed and said, “I know the feeling.”
“It’s bizarre, right?” she whispered, raising a hand to his stubbled jaw.
He closed his eyes for a half-second, leaning into her touch, and when he opened them, they were bright and hot and intense. “Bizarre and so perfect, Iz, I can’t even.”
His mouth found hers as his big hands made quick work of her clothes, and she took care of his pants and the task of wrangling his wallet from his pocket while never breaking contact with that power kiss.
She briefly thought front door, because anyone could come in at any time, but things were so intense with Blake that she was willing to risk it.
In mere seconds he was right where she needed him, sighing into her mouth as he crashed into her on the kitchen table, and she felt emotional as she locked eyes with him, somehow homesick for him at that very moment even though the moment hadn’t yet passed. He moved, rocking into her, making her wrap her legs around him to hold him closer, squeeze him tighter, to try and lock-up his body the way he’d locked-up her heart.
“Fuck,” he hissed, sliding his hands underneath her and changing the angle to where it was no longer physically possible for her eyes to stay open. Or for her to think. He was so good, so in tune with every little thing that she didn’t even know she wanted, that Izzy just dug in her heels - and her nails - and let herself fall into the blissful escape.


    Blake
Izzy: You awake?
Blake smiled as he looked at her message. Yes, he was lying in bed, in the dark, but he was definitely still awake. He texted: We literally hung up the phone four minutes ago.
Izzy: Well you fell asleep really fast last night, so…
Blake: No, that was you, Princess Snore.
Izzy: I don’t snore.
Blake: No comment.
Izzy: I don’t!
Blake pictured her, lying on her stomach, sound asleep beside him. He texted: Isabella Shay, I’m not saying you snore, but if you did, hypothetically, it would be the most adorable sleepy sound ever heard. Like an adorable kitten. With a deviated septum.
Izzy: Flipping you off.
Blake: Grabbing your finger and doing nasty things with it.
Izzy: ABORT MISSION! THIS IS NO WAY TO GET SLEEPY!
Blake sat up, grinning like a dipshit, and fluffed his pillow. Texted: Is that why you texted? So you could get sleepy?
Izzy: No. I texted you to say that no matter what happens, this weekend was perfect.
What the fuck was that? Did she know? He texted: “No matter what happens??” Trust exercise, remember?
Izzy: I know, I know.
Blake: I’ll be able to share soon, I promise.
Izzy: LOL I trust you. I just mean that regardless of any other thing that happens in my life, in the world or in the universe, this weekend will be preserved in my heart as perfection.
Well, shit. Blake felt that in the pit of his stomach, in his heart, in his everloving mind, because it was exactly how he felt, too.
I love you. He wanted to say it. He wanted to tell her a hundred times that even though it was too soon, he was gone. Head over heels. Out of his mind for her.
Fuck, maybe he’d tell her tomorrow, after he talked to Brad and figured things out.
I love you, Iz. It’s what he felt in his very core, but instead he texted: I love your profundity, Iz.
Izzy: And I love hearing you acknowledge the word profundity. Goodnight, Mr. Chest.