Blaze (Blaze #1) (5 page)

“Sorry Amy,” Natasha says smoothly, “I was
just debriefing with Kate after the function on Friday night.”

I can see the struggle behind Natasha’s
face. She wants to make a debriefing joke so badly, I can tell.

Amy looks at her. She knows Natasha’s lying,
or at least, not telling the whole truth. Finally, she gives a
little sniff.

“Well now that’s done, you can go back to
your desk,” Amy says. “And leave Kate to get on with the eBook
conversions. She was supposed to be finished last week.”

“Of course,” Natasha says, and disappears
out the door.

“And Kate,” Amy says, turning back to me.
“I’d appreciate it if you left your personal life outside the
office from now on.”

She doesn’t quite slam the door behind her,
but she doesn’t close it quietly, either.

I let out a shuddering breath. I didn’t even
realize I was holding it, but Amy has that effect on me. She’s the
worst, nastiest boss I’ve ever had. Still, with her on the case, no
one will dare ask me about Gabriel today.

That gets me thinking of him. The way his
grin twists up at the side when he smiles. The way his body moves
against mine. The look in his beautiful eyes when he’s too
distracted to guard his emotions.

I can’t wait to see him again.

His cock is throbbing, hard and hot in my
mouth, and his mouth is between my thighs, his tongue searching out
the core of me. Every time he breathes a shudder goes through me
and I have to grab helplessly at the mattress, bunching the silk
sheets into a fist and groaning around his length.

I’m so hungry for him I can’t think; I can’t
do anything but suck him, desperate for him to explode in my mouth.
He takes his mouth off me for a second and I move my knees to get
him better access to me. He fastens his lips on me again and I make
a high sound at the back of my throat; he does this better than any
man I’ve ever known. I suck him into my mouth again.

“Stop,” he says, and pulls away from me.

“Wh- what?” I say, trying to breathe.
“What’s wrong?”

I hear the smile in his voice before I turn
to look at him.

“Nothing. Believe me, you were doing just
fine. But I’m going to make you come first.”

I lay back on the bed, trying to still my
heart from hearing those words go through me. Everything he says to
me seems calculated to draw every last spark of desire from me;
every time he takes control and tells me how things are going to be
I just want him to take me.

One thing’s for sure. I’ve never met a man
like Gabriel Call before. I’ve never met a man who was so
completely, easily arrogant in the bedroom.

I watch him walk across the room to the bar.
The candles he lit earlier throw flickering shadows across his
body. He moves like a wild animal, every muscle ready to tense in a
heartbeat.

My eyes drop to his cock. It’s still hard,
standing firm and upright and I feel that welcome wet heat
throbbing between my thighs.

He pours a glass of champagne and drinks it
easily before refilling it and walking across the room. I can’t
help myself; I reach out and stroke him. He grins again, that
completely cocky, shit-eating grin of his.

“Here,” he says, and puts the champagne in
my hand. It’s crystal cold and tastes like a million bucks.

I don’t deserve this
, I think, and I
savagely shove the thought away before it can take hold.

“On your back,” he says, and that
undercurrent of growl, that raw tone in his voice when he wants
something, is back.

I don’t move fast enough, so he rolls me
onto my back and I almost drop the glass.

“Careful!” I try to say, but then his mouth
is back on me, and I’m gasping for breath again.

He spreads me open with the lightest touch
of his hands, and his tongue plunges back into me. I’m writhing at
the touch of his lips, at the tiny, expert circles he’s making with
his fingers. His tongue flickers over my clit and I cry out; I can
feel I’m going to come if he keeps doing that.

He doesn’t need me to tell him. His tongue
dips and darts again and again and I can feel that tidal wave about
to crash through me.

One more touch
, and I’m praying for
it, I’m desperate for it, even while he teases me, even while he
knows to keep using his fingers but hold back with his tongue
One more touch, Jesus, one more tou-

And his mouth descends on me again, and I
have to grab a pillow and muffle my scream of release with it.

By the time I’ve finally finished shaking,
he’s got his hand on my hips and he’s rolling me onto my knees.

“Are you ready?” he says, in that voice that
makes my muscles weak with desire.

“Please,” I breathe, and the sound is almost
lost in the night. “Gabriel, please.”

I can feel the heat of him against me, the
thick head of him gently parting me, ready to enter.

“Say it again,” he says, and I’m helpless to
resist. I don’t want to resist, I want him inside me, I want him
pushing himself all the way into me.

“Please,” I whisper, and with one smooth
thrust, his cock enters me.

My body feels like it’s someone else’s, like
it knows what it’s doing no matter what I’m feeling, what I’m
thinking. I accept him completely inside me, and he pulls me hard
against me. I’m so wet I can feel the dampness running down between
my thighs. He pushes me down, and my breasts press against the cool
sheets. His hands are on my ass and I can feel all his strength,
all the raw power of him as he drives himself against me.

His breathing is harsh and I push back
against him; I’m so desperate for him to feel what I feel, to give
him what he’s giving me.

“God, keep going!” I moan, and his tempo
picks up. I’m like an animal. I’m lost in sensation. I want to
scream into the night sky. Electricity is crackling through me and
I let myself go, completely lost in feeling his rock-hard cock
drive into me again and again, over and over, the center of my
whole world.

Before I know what I’m doing I’m drawing
myself off him, throwing myself down on my back. For an instant the
tiniest flash of surprise flickers across his face. Then the
arrogant, displeased frown settles back in. His cock is pulsing
upwards with every heartbeat.

I grab him around the back of the neck and
draw him back down.

“I have to kiss you,” I moan from the back
of my throat and just like that, he’s moved between my legs and
he’s inside me again.

My temples are wet with sweat and I suck his
lip into my mouth. I curl my fingers in his tangled hair, feeling
the perspiration there. His breathing is coming hard and fast and I
know he’s close; so am I.

“Fuck!” he gasps and I feel the first
tremors of his orgasm exploding out of him. At the touch, I’m lost
in my own, and I pull his head into the crook of my shoulder. I
squeeze my eyes shut tight as it hits, lost in his scent, lost in
the feel of his body, lost in feeling him coming inside me.

Lost in him.

As I walk from my cubicle to Madelyn Snow’s
office, I imagine this is what it feels like when a death row
inmate makes his way to the gas chamber. Except their last meal is
probably a lot better than a granola bar and a latte. The quick
breakfast I grabbed before coming to work does nothing to calm my
nerves.

It feels like everyone is watching me, which
isn’t uncommon lately. I am the girl sleeping with Gabriel Call and
they all know it. Not because I’ve confirmed this – no one would
dare be bold enough to ask – but the late morning arrivals and
freshly-screwed glow are dead giveaways.

I reach the office and rap softly on the
door.

“Come in,” says a voice from the other side.
I take a deep breath and do just that.

In all my time at Snow Publishing, I’ve
never been in this office. Secretaries, especially non-executive
ones – don’t often interact with the owner of the company.
Unsurprisingly, her office is large with an amazing view of the
bay. Madelyn Snow is just as impressive – a former bestselling
author, she wrote a successful series of mystery novels that were
turned into hit movies in the nineties.

She smiles warmly.

“Kate, have a seat.”

My stomach drops. Amy is sitting across from
Madelyn’s desk. Her tight bun and Resting Bitch Face are both
firmly in place. I take the seat next to Amy and wonder if I’ll at
least get a decent severance package. I can’t imagine what I’ve
done to lose my job – and I spent every second since this meeting
was requested trying to think of something – but Amy being here
couldn’t mean good news.

“So, Kate, you’ve been a hot topic of
conversation lately,” Madelyn says with a look on her face I can’t
quite read.

Gabriel. This is about Gabriel? Can she even
do this, I wonder.
There’s no way she can give me grief about
who I’m sleeping with. I’ll sue. I’ll—

“I understand you’ve recently made the
acquaintance of Gabriel Call.”

Shit.

I nod. Amy sniffs disapprovingly. I want to
throw my shoe at her.

“How did that happen?” Madelyn leans forward
and she looks genuinely interested. She reminds me of a young
Kathleen Turner, complete with the husky voice.

“We met at the awards dinner.”

“Ah. See? That’s why I insist everyone
attend those functions, Amy. There’s always something to be learned
and you can’t underestimate the value of networking.”

Amy nods like everything Madelyn said was
her idea.

Madelyn continues. “I love when young people
show initiative. Especially women. But, that’s not why I asked you
here. Have you ever thought of becoming an author liaison?”

Only every single day since I got the job.
It’s the next logical progression if I ever hope to have a real
career in the publishing industry.

“Yes, I have. I was waiting for the next
opening to apply.” I answer honestly, feeling like I have nothing
to lose.

“Well, what if I told you there was an
opening if you wanted it? Just three authors right now, but all are
accomplished with new projects beginning soon. It would be the
perfect opportunity for you to learn the position. Would you like
that?”

“Yes, definitely.” I am smiling so hard my
cheeks hurt.

“But, I thought we were here to—”

“You thought we called the poor girl in here
to talk about her personal life?” Madelyn cuts off Amy’s protest.
Amy shakes her head no to the question, but her face clearly says
that’s exactly what she thought would happen. I allow the tiniest
of smirks to settle on my face.

“What am I to do with her current
responsibilities?” Amy asks.

“I am sure we can split Kate’s duties
between the other assistants until we find a replacement.”
Madelyn’s tone makes it clear this is a done deal. “Sarah in HR
will have your offer package ready in the next half hour. You
should pick it up and take the rest of the day. Read it over and
make sure it’s really what you want. Come back in the morning and
if you still want it, we can discuss the transition.”

I stand and reach out to shake her hand.
“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Ms. Snow.”

“You can thank me by doing a great job.”

“I promise I will.”

I shake Amy’s hand as well because it seems
like the right thing to do and then I leave the office, trying not
to skip on my way out.

My bedroom is small – just big enough for my
bed, dresser, and a small bookcase. I share the apartment with two
roommates who are rarely home. Thankfully, this allows me plenty of
uninterrupted use of the common areas, like our living room.

I toss my purse and keys on the coffee
table, kick off my shoes, and sit down on the sofa with the packet
in my lap. I take a deep breath and open it. The top page is the
official offer letter and my eyes find the new salary immediately.
I blink a few times, double-checking the decimal point. I won’t be
able to afford my own place just yet, but I definitely won’t be
worrying about affording a meal any time soon. I scan the rest of
the documents, but they’re all pretty standard, including a
detailed job description. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I feel
ready for it.

My cell rings and I dig it out of my
purse.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart, I know you’re at work,
but—”

“It’s okay, Mom,” I say, leaning back and
propping my feet onto the coffee table. “I’m actually home.”

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Her voice goes
up an octave as it does when she’s concerned. I can practically
feel the back of her hand pressed against my forehead, and hear her
insisting that
a mother’s touch is more reliable than any
thermometer.

“I’m fine. I got a promotion.”

I tell her my good news and I know she’ll be
bragging to half the people in our small Alaskan fishing town
before the end of the day.

“Just don’t work yourself too hard,” she
warns. “Are you eating?”

“Yes, I’m eating.”

“Like what?”

“Food.”

“Katherine Emily MacDonald!”

I cringe.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I’m not a kid,
Mom.”

“I know that.” She sounds offended and I
feel worse. “I still worry about you. That’s my right. Are you… uh…
going out? Have you… met anyone?”

There was no way in hell I was going to
discuss Gabriel Call with my mother. “Hey, you called me, remember?
Is everything okay?” Not my smoothest deflection, but it
worked.

“Well, Matt called.”

I place my feet on the floor and sit up
straight. I hadn’t spoken to Matt since that first night with
Gabriel. Guilt and shame, both familiar feelings since leaving
home, wash over me.