Page 108 of Yours To Take
“Maybe.” I shrug a shoulder.
“I’ll tell you more about the show later, but no, no role for you.”
“What? You have parts—”
A finger to my lips shushes any argument.
“You’re not in it because I don’t want to share you. Not even a small piece of you with the rest of the world.”
“Blake…”
“Let me finish.”
I nod, letting him go on.
“I love you, Gemma. And these last few weeks, I was absolutely miserable without you. And I know these next few weeks are going to be crazy with filming starting, but I want to be here in Dixon. With you. I want to go to the farmers’ market on Saturdays and buy pies andnotget tricked into trying hot sauce, and ride Buttercup. Kiss the fish.”
“Will you really kiss the fish this time?” My voice is watery as tears are now rolling down my face.
Blake closes the remaining distance between the two of us. “As long as I get to kiss you after? Oh, yeah, I’ll kiss the fish.”
And then he kisses me.
Long and deep. With each pass of his tongue, it strikes the match of desire inside of me. The scratch of his beard against my face has my toes curling in my boots.
This is it. This is what I was always waiting for.
A man like Blake.
No one before him was worthy of having me.
All too soon, his movements slow and he pulls back. Half-masted eyelids stare down at me, pupils wide with need.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” My fingers have a mind of their own, playing with his beard.
“I’m pretty sure Clint would have sent me back here in a week because he was getting sick of my pouting.”
“You missed me that much?”
Blake lifts me into his arms and backs me against the side of the barn. “So much that it physically hurt.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t alone.”
“You missed me too?” Blake asks, a sheepish look coming over his face.
I nod. “I kept telling myself that it was just sex between us, but it was a lie.”
Blake nods, burying his face into my neck. His lips ghost over the soft skin there.
“It was never going to be just sex with us, Gemma. I told myself that I was doing you a favor as much as you were doing me one. But that first night?”
I pull his face up, wanting to see him when I tell him this.
“I’m glad I waited. Because it brought me to you.”
“Does it make me sound like a caveman that I’m happy no other man will ever experience that part of you? That it’s only me?” There’s a growl to his voice.
I should hate it. It’s not the reason I was waiting. But God, do I love that this man will be the only person I ever share that part of me with.
