Taming Blake (Book Two: Blake's Game): Taming Blake, #2

By Charlotte Eve

Trouble in paradise?

Things should be just perfect for interior designer Jessica Clark. After all, she’s spent a heady, sexy week in billionaire Blake Matthews’ bed, getting very well acquainted. And on top of all that, she has that beautiful new office now: just the place to get her business well and truly off the ground. So why in the world does she still feel so torn? 

Well, for a start, there’s another of Blake’s secret parties fast approaching. Not to mention the arrival of a cute young sculptor, Josh, in her life. And on top of all that, Jessica can’t help but suspect that Blake’s playing with her, that she’s fast becoming caught in an increasingly intense game of cat-and-mouse. All her friends might be warning her to try to cool things down with Blake, but how can she when she’s falling even deeper for this captivating and complicated man?

Due to adult themes, this novel is only suitable for those aged 18+.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Garden of Eden Press
• Release date: Mar 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386689416

Charlotte Eve

Charlotte Eve was born to English parents and grew up between London and New York. She returned to England to study, and has now settled in London, where she loves the history, the culture and the tea. Maybe not the rain though. Charlotte still visits New York as often as she can, to shop until she drops.

Book preview

Chapter One

I stretched out like a cat beneath the crisp white Egyptian cotton sheets, still catching my breath. My whole body felt flushed with pleasure, every little part of me tingling, and I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, wishing I could just pause things right here, wishing this would last forever. From the bathroom, I heard the soft hiss of the shower starting up.

Blake.

We’d spent the whole week together. And when I thought back on it now, the memories came dancing into my head in a crazy jumble. It seemed like we’d spent the entire week beneath these sheets, and it looked like Blake was still just as hungry for me as I was for him.

Last Monday morning, after the ball, and a magical lazy Sunday, just the two of us, I’d found myself miraculously still here in Blake’s bed, but knowing that any minute now, he would put on one of his pristine suits and walk about the door, back to real life. And where would that leave me?

There was no way I would have made him kick me out of bed, that would have been too embarrassing. So instead I’d gotten up and started gathering my things. So, I’d been totally shocked when he’d grabbed my arm and told me he had a better idea.

And just like that, Blake had cleared his schedule for me and we’d spent another blissful day tangled between the sheets, exploring each others bodies.

That was Monday. And Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday had followed a similar pattern. It was heaven. If I’m honest, after a second blissful weekend together, I’d begun, just a little, to think of this apartment as ours ... Or did I mean that I was thinking of Blake, just a little, as mine?

Hold on, now.

Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Jessica, a sensible voice of reason reminded me.

It’s only been a week.

For all you know, this is just a fling.

Here I was, once more on a Monday morning, in Blake’s bed.

I tried to push the nagging doubts from my head, tried my very hardest to remain here. In the present moment. But again, I found my mind racing backwards, poring over the week just gone for clues and signs that this was more than just some flash-in-the-pan romance, that this was more than just another meaningless little fling for well-known playboy Blake Matthews.

No, he likes you, as much as you like him.

Remember ...

I thought back on the ways he’d really opened up to me, let me in, finally telling me a little more about himself, about his college days in Harvard, how he got started in business. But best of all, he had stories from all over the world. He’d visited so many exotic places, while despite all my daydreams, I’d never even left America. And he brought the whole world alive for me, right here in this bed.

He’d asked me questions, too – about my life, my family, my ambitions. He really wanted to get to know the real me. And the icing on the cake was that the warm playful guy I remembered from our very first meeting, the one who looked at me like we were the only two in on the joke, he’d been present all week. We now had so many more of our own little jokes and I began to realize that Blake was a real person, not just some fantasy figure, as we giggled and whispered together in moments of real tenderness …

But now it was Monday morning once again, and Blake was finally slipping away. I knew it. I could hear the shower’s insistent hiss from the bathroom and I just knew that soon he would be dressed and off to work …

And then what?

There was still so much left unsaid between us, so much we hadn’t actually talked about yet.

What exactly am I to you?

Just what am I supposed to do when you leave? And are you ever coming back?

On top of all that, I still felt so damned hungry for him, it was as if I’d never quite fully be satisfied.

A week ago today, I’d got up promising myself I wasn’t going to go through the humiliation of having Blake Matthews kick me out of bed. And now, after the amazing week we’d spent together, leaving him would be a hundred times harder. So, I wasn’t about to give up without a fight.

I pushed myself up and out of bed, feeling the cool air on my bare skin as I padded softly through Blake’s apartment – it was still so satisfying to see it finished, this place that I’d poured so much of myself into, the last few weeks – along the corridor and up the small set of stairs and into the warm, steam-filled bathroom, catching a tantalizing glimpse of his tanned, muscular body, soaping himself in the huge walk-in shower.

I tiptoed towards him, not wanting to disturb him just yet, wanting to drink him in with my eyes first: this perfect, statuesque man who was now somehow mine, or at least here with me right now ...

I let my gaze travel hungrily over his tanned, sculpted physique, his broad shoulders, his strong legs, and his perfect ass, his bronze skin slicked and shining from the running water.

And I had almost managed to tiptoe right up behind him, preparing to run my eager hands over his perfectly-sculpted body, preparing to press myself against him from behind and work my fingers slowly downwards over his rock-hard abs to that hot, thick prize between his legs, needing to feel him again, even though we’d spent most of the early morning making love, when …

BANG!

In a flash Blake had spun around, turning to face me with a playful smile, grabbing my slender wrists, all in one smooth motion, gently pinning me against the cold tiles of the shower wall, stealing a hungry kiss as he held me firmly in place.

Taking control once again.

This was something I was still getting used to – the sheer physicality of our lovemaking. Because as a lover, it seemed as if Blake was always one step ahead of me, always keeping me on my toes, surprising me with what he might do next, pushing my limits – both physically and mentally.

I gasped in surprise as he held my arms in place, pinning them high above my head as he worked his kisses hungrily downwards, from my mouth to my neck, then over my tingling collarbone, and then further, down over the tender flesh of my small left breast, his lips closing around my nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure rocketing right through me, my flesh responding so powerfully to his touch.

Blake, I need you so badly.

I thrust my hips frustratedly toward him, my hunger reaching an almost unbearable intensity now, and finally he relented, reaching down and guiding himself inside me, filling me up once more with that hot hardness I’d begun to crave – taking me so fast and rough against the tiled wall of the shower room that it caused me to come quicker and harder than I’d ever come before, crying out in pleasure as my body bucked and trembled from the sheer unexpected force of my pleasure.

I felt Blake orgasm too just a moment later, his body tensing and shuddering as he drove himself deep inside me with a final thrust, and I dug my fingernails hard into his broad back, the steam swirling around us, mingling between our bodies: these bodies which seemed to need each other so completely it was almost like a kind of madness.

§

So what are we doing today? I asked with a hopeful smile, as I watched Blake fix the final button of his crisp tailored shirt, his tanned flesh disappearing beneath the rich white cotton. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew he was obviously off to work, but still. Perhaps I really could tempt him into clearing his Monday schedule for the second week in a row ...

And as I waited for his answer, I wrapped myself once more in the soft white sheets, mussing my hair and pouting, trying to look nonchalantly appealing like Bridget Bardot or something. But in all honesty, I felt like a bit of a fraud. I wasn’t sure I was quite cut out to be the seductive siren type. How did I even know I was doing it right? Where did women learn this stuff?

But all that didn’t matter, because Blake’s answer to my simple question completely deflated me. 

I’m going to Milan for a few days, he said casually. Didn’t I tell you?

Humiliated, I grabbed the sheets and pulled them up over my head. It’s hardly what Bridget Bardot would have done, but I felt like I wanted to disappear. I was so embarrassed. Had I really thought a little bit of pouting would stop him leaving me, like he was obviously about to do?

I tried to think rationally about this.

Blake’s got a really important job.

He can’t spent the rest of his life in this bedroom with you.

You know he’s got commitments.

Hang on though ... He definitely didn’t mention Milan.

Oh, oh yeah, I must have forgotten, I murmured in reply, trying as hard as I could to play it cool and mask my disappointment. Wow, Milan. That’s awesome! I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. It looks amazing. But I could hear my enthusiasm ringing false.

I fell silent, waiting for him to say more, willing him to explain that it was only a boring business trip and that he would be back soon enough. But instead he didn’t say a word. Just slipped on his beautifully tailored midnight blue blazer, then took a seat on the edge of the bed to tie his classic English Churches brogues, his back to me, his face a mystery.

Who’s in Milan?

The thought flashed through my head with an unexpected intensity. And before I could stop myself, I’d pictured the whole sorry scene: Blake taking up with some impossibly tanned, long-legged Italian goddess, some expensive mistress that he dropped in on every once in a while, some raven-haired Amazonian Monica Bellucci type, wrapping her body around him, murmuring in his ear in her husky exotic accent …

I was grateful that at some point during this week, Blake had taken me shopping – grateful that I wouldn’t have to do the walk of shame through the Upper East Side on a bright Monday morning in a sparkling silver Dior evening gown.

I pulled on my soft new 7 For All Mankind jeans and casual cream Isabel Marant shirt.

Soon we were both fully dressed, and Blake had brought out a tastefully-battered black leather Mulberry hold-all, obviously packed days in advance. And I suddenly felt so, so foolish to think that this had been anything other than a week of fun to him.

Here, he said, holding something small and shiny towards me.

I took it from his hand: it was the very same Matthews Inc AmEx expense account card that I’d given back to him last week, when I’d finished the job on his apartment. 

What’s this for? I asked.

Does this mean I’m getting a new commission?!

The thought of it lifted me back up again. I perked up immediately at the prospect of starting work again, sinking my teeth into a brand new project ...

I want you to have some fun while I’m away, he explained. Treat yourself to something nice. Consider it a bonus for finishing this place, he said, gesturing around the room.

Oh, thanks, I mumbled, curling my fingers around the cool plastic of the card.

And for the second time that morning, I tried – and failed – to conceal my disappointment.

But on top of feeling disappointed, I felt totally out of the loop, too. I mean, what was going on? There were so many questions I still wanted to ask him. How long exactly was ‘a few days’, for instance,