Blaze (Blaze #1) (6 page)

“He asked about you—”

“I’ve been really busy and I haven’t had
much time to call… anyone.”

“That’s what I told him. You know he loves
you and wants what’s best for you. If you could maybe just call
him…”

I blow out a deep breath. “Yes. Of course, I
will. I’m sorry. I feel like a horrible person.”

My mother makes the soft clucking noise she
does when she’s about to reprimand someone. “Katie, what did I just
say? He loves you. And no one blames you for doing what’s best for
you. You needed some space.”

These reassurances usually work, but now I
can’t get Matt’s face out of my head. Truthfully, I’d been so
wrapped up in – and wrapped around – Gabriel that I hadn’t thought
about Matt. Fancy dinners, passionate sex, and a promotion at work
- my life was becoming everything I’d wanted it to be for so long,
and I couldn’t be bothered to think about anything or anyone I’d
left behind. Matt deserved better.

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll call him… soon.”

The doorman gives me a smile as he opens the
door for me.

“Nice to see you again, Miss. Looks like you
brought the nice weather back for us.”

It’s the tail end of a beautiful afternoon,
and the sky is a giant blue bowl turned upside down over the tall
San Francisco hills.

He’s an older guy with a giant white
mustache that crinkles up when he smiles.

“I don’t know about that,” I say, and he
gives me a broad wink.

“The sun always follows a pretty girl,” he
says, and I giggle like I’m fourteen.

I feel drunk when I swipe into the elevator
with the card Gabriel gave me and the doors close behind me,
ferrying me up to his suite. All day, all I can think of is his
perfect face, his beautiful body. The purr in his voice when he’s
being funny. The way he breathes when I press my body against his.
The way he makes me forget everything I’ve ever been and lose
myself in his sex.

I open the door with the same card and sling
my bag onto the expensive sofa by the door. My beaten-up old bag
looks immediately out of place, but I don’t care. I could be the
brokest girl in the world (I practically am, anyway) and Gabriel
Call’s touch would make me feel like the Queen of England.

“Are you here?” I ask. “I’ve got great
news!”

This is the first time I’ve been brave
enough to let myself without knocking. Even though he texted me
telling me to come over, I’ve still got a storm of butterflies in
my stomach. What if he’s gone out? What if he’s invited some other
girl over and she’s-

He walks out of the bedroom, dripping wet, a
plush white towel wrapped around his waist, and my mouth goes
dry.

“Were you saying something?” he asks, and he
lifts one perfect brow.

“Shit, I…” I’ve completely gone blank. A
single drop of water trickles down from his wet hair. I watch it
slowly slide down his rippling pecs and down the deep, chiseled
lines of his abs.

He walks over closer. I watch him,
helplessly. Soon he’s so close I can feel the heat pouring off his
body.

“I’m sure you were saying something,” he
murmurs. His eyes are the color of thunderclouds before a
storm.

I slide my hand beneath his towel and his
length is there, already half-aroused and a moan of pure desire
escapes from between my lips.

“Please…” I whisper, and in response, he
gathers me in his arms. I fall into his embrace, his lips tender on
mine. I pull the towel away and he guides me backwards until we’re
on the floor. I pull my dress off over my head and unclip my
bra.

“So beautiful,” he says. There’s an
unfamiliar look in his eyes, and an unfamiliar note in his voice.
But his cock is just as hard as ever, pressing against my
panties.

I lift myself up enough for him to roll them
off and then I grasp him again with one hand, guiding him to me. I
want to roll my hips around, I want to tease him, but I can’t stand
it. I impale myself on him and both of us groan with sensation.

He pulls me to him and his shaft slides in
and out of me as I rock my hips back and forth.

“This is the best,” I moan, losing myself in
the sensation. God, he’s so big. I can feel him deeper inside me
than any man’s been before. “God, I love…”

For a split second I’m almost not sure what
word I’m about to say, and I quickly finish “…this.”

He grabs my ass and clasps me to him, and I
want to scream as my orgasm hits.

*

It’s not until later, and we’ve made it to
the bed, that I remember. We’re surrounded by room service plates,
dangerously half-empty on the white sheets, and the TV is on,
playing some dumb movie that I’m not really paying attention
to.

“Will Ferrell,” Gabriel says, one of his
arms draped easily around my shoulder.

“What about him?” I say, nuzzling at his
chest.

“Put a long blonde wig and a blue dress on
him,” Gabriel says, “and he could be my very first girlfriend.”

I almost snort, I’m laughing so hard.

“What?
What?
What the hell are you
talking about?”

“Stacy Delaney,” Gabriel says, shaking his
head sorrowfully. “Poor girl. She was nice, and she was sweet, but…
she looked like Will Ferrell in a blonde wig.”

“You? I don’t believe it,” I say, still
struggling to picture him as young, not the self-assured, cocky man
he is now.

“Uh huh,” he says. “And her mom used to
fart
. I mean, we’d be in her bedroom, fooling around, and
we’d suddenly hear this sound from outside the bedroom door. Like a
dozen balloons popping, one after another, and we’d know her mom
was spying on us.”

My ribs are hurting, I’m laughing so
much.

“You shouldn’t laugh,” Gabriel says,
seriously. “I think the family had a genetic condition, or
something.”

When I finally calm down, I stroke his
chest. I almost want to tell him about my mom, about my dad, about
my family and the dumb things they do which make me love them. But
I can’t. Not yet.

“Oh hey,” I say. “I got a promotion today!
I’m going to be an author’s rep.”

He turns to look at me.

“You know, going out there and wining and
dining new writers and getting them to sign up with us.”

“Yeah,” he says flatly. “I know. And
charming them, flirting with them, leading them on so that they
sign on the dotted line.”

His body is tense.

“No,” I say lamely, “I mean, I guess I’ll
need to be friendly, but…”

“Yeah,” he says, “Don’t worry. I know how it
works.”

I sit up straight.

“Wait, how do
you
know how it works?”
I ask. “Have you ever slept with a-”

“I don’t mix business and pleasure,” he
says, and his voice is cold. “I don’t need to.”

Something’s gone wrong, and I don’t know
what, so I wrap my arms around him.

“I don’t want to mix anything with
anything,” I say. “I just want to be here with you.”

His response is to kiss me, hard. He’s ready
and eager beneath the sheets; I can feel him pressing hard against
me. I roll onto my back, pulling him with me; I don’t want to
fight. Not with him. I want to feel his passion and feel the surge
of him inside me.

He moves behind me and I smile. I love it
when he’s taking me from behind; I love feeling the friction of his
hips and the force of his hands.

His first entry is smooth and strong and I’m
almost drunk with the feeling that blossoms in my stomach. I rest
my head against the pillow and press my ass back into him, feeling
the depth of him, feeling my muscles melt at his touch.

He moves faster and I cry out; he leans
forward until his chest is pressed against my back and he wraps one
of his hands around mine. His strokes are deep and swift and I want
him to come; I want to feel him pulsing and exploding inside
me.

He wraps his other hand in my hair and makes
a fist, tugging at me gently. My scalp tingles and my head goes
back as he thrusts again and again.

This is what I want. This is what I need,
now. He’s a drug and I’m hooked; there’s a hurricane surging
through my stomach and when he comes I shudder with release;
there’s never been anyone like this before.

Noah Drake is one of the hottest authors in
young adult fiction, self-publishing a series of paranormal books
featuring a duo of teenaged detectives. He’s one of a small number
of independent authors who have sold one million e-books on Amazon.
And right now he’s being courted by every major publishing house in
the country for the rights to his new series about mermaids.

And he’s very late.

I take a sip of my sparkling water with lime
and check the time on my phone. I wonder – not for the first time –
if Madelyn has made a mistake in asking me to meet with Noah and
his agent.

“I’ve been doing this a long time, Kate,”
Madelyn had said. “I know writers, and I know men like Noah Drake.
He’s young and in demand. Luckily, we have a good relationship with
his agent Charles. We’re already offering him the sweetest deal.
You just need to seal it by being… accommodating. Make him feel
wanted.”

Seeing the shocked look on my face, Madelyn
quickly clarified. “Kate, at the most you’ll just flirt. People
like to do business with people they like. He likes pretty women,
and I’m sending him the prettiest.”

I was fairly certain Madelyn was blowing
smoke, but I didn’t care. I wanted to land this author. Badly. I’d
read the outline for his new series and the first five chapters of
the first book. It was well written, magical, and had characters
young girls would love.
Hell, even their mothers won’t be able
to put it down.

I’m going over the offer details in my head
when I spot Noah making his way to the table, followed by an older
man in a blue suit. Noah is wearing jeans and a blazer over a
buttoned-down shirt. We shake hands and his grip lingers a beat too
long.

“Sorry we’re late, Kate,” Charles says,
shaking my hand. His smile says he’s apologizing for more than
being tardy.

“Not a problem,” I say, and then signal the
waiter.

Noah takes the seat next to me and
immediately inches his chair closer. When the waiter appears, Noah
smiles and says, “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

“I’m afraid it’s only sparkling water.”

“That’s probably for the best. I’ll need a
clear head. You’re so beautiful, I’ll sign whatever you put in
front of me.” Noah says this with a charming smile.

That’s the idea, slick.

Of course, it’s not that simple and we spend
a good thirty minutes going over the details of our offer. Charles
expresses a few minor concerns, but none are deal breakers. By the
time we’re on our third round of drinks, Charles folds his hands on
the table and leans forward.

“Kate, Madelyn and I go back a long way. I
won’t drag this out. If you can make the adjustments we spoke of, I
see no reason why we can’t move forward. Right, Noah?”

Noah slides his arm across the back of my
chair. “Agreed.”

I don’t flinch, but I don’t lean into it
either. “I’m sure we can work something out. And you won’t regret
it. You’ll be giving your
Stardust
series a great home, and
we’ll make sure to give you, and the project, the attention you
deserve.”

“I’m counting on it,” Noah says and winks
one green eye so quickly I’m positive he does it all the time. He
places his free hand on top of mine, on the table.

“Anything I can do to help.” I keep a
gracious smile on my face even as I slide my hand free.

He looks irritated for all of three seconds,
and then the self-assured smile is back. Charles smirks and shakes
his head. I guess Noah isn’t used to a woman not immediately
melting at his charms.

Noah keeps his innuendos and his hands in
check long enough for us to enjoy a few tapas and another round of
drinks. When he excuses himself to the restroom, Charles smiles
sympathetically.

“You’re doing great. I know he can be a bit…
much, but he’s a good kid and extremely talented. You may be just
the rep he needs. Noah has enough people telling him yes. It will
be nice having one other person in his corner, keeping him on
task.”

“Well, I meant what I said. I believe Snow
is the best place for Noah. I can handle the flirting.”

Noah rejoins us just as my cell vibrates on
the table. It’s Gabriel. I hold up a finger. “Excuse me one minute
while I take this.” I turn away from the table and answer the call.
“Hey, I’m in a meeting, can I call you back?”

Even through the phone his voice causes a
heat to rise through me, starting between my legs.

“Someone should tell Mr. Drake it’s a
business meeting. He can’t keep his hands off of you.”

“How—”

Then I see him. Gabriel’s standing near the
hostess podium. Before he can say another word, I disconnect the
call.

Not again.

He’s wearing a dark gray three-piece and he
moves through the restaurant like a movie star, effortlessly
slicing his way through the crowd and the bustling waiters. I
swallow, hard, praying that it will somehow dislodge the lump in my
throat.

When he sits down on the other side of me,
the cocky grin on his face makes me want to bury my face in my
hands.

“What a coincidence,” Gabriel says, and
casually reaches out to brush a wisp of hair from my face. Without
asking, he helps himself to a crusty piece of bread from a bowl
that one of the waiters brought over and dips it in the oil next to
it.

“My favorite writers rep, right here at
where I dropped in to get a drink.”

Noah Drake is still blinking, trying to work
out what the hell just happened. Gabriel grins, and there’s
something predatory in it.