When I met Kyle, the boy next door, he became my solace, my protector and my friend. His mother was always kind and loving to me—baking cakes and pastries that I enjoyed and loved through the years. I always depended on Kyle and leaving Los Angeles tore me apart, but I had to leave home. I just wanted to get away, to have a new life, a second chance to erase all the memories I have endured living with the Brown’s. And as a result, he was hurt, but supportive about my decision.
My father made sure that I was well provided for. The money I got from him on my 18th birthday was substantial. I didn’t need to work if I didn’t really want to. But I have other plans in my life. I want to become successful and thrive in the marketing industry.
Leaning back against the cool leather seat, I exhaled. Boy, I’m exhausted. Driving around town seriously took a toll in my jet-lagged condition.
I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head, the sounds of Moonlight Sonata in cello relaxing me in slumber as he squeezed my thigh.
“Don’t drift off yet. Promise you can sleep when we get to our destination, alright?” glancing at me with a hint of a smile.
Getting a hold of my hand and placed it on his lap, I was overwhelmed with weird emotions washing over me.
I turned sideways to look at him. Shades on, he looked like a sexy man from a car commercial, just a tad bit more good looking. His resembles closely with Gaspard Ulliel/Christiano Ronaldo. That’s how deadly he looks. I suppose the Latin coloring and charm contributed from his Italian mother and when he speaks Italian…total major turn on.
And his eyes, his eyes are another dynamic. Blake has the most unusual eyes, his midnight blue rimmed silver with flecks with scattered gold in the middle. When he’s angry, his eyes turns almost black making those scattered gold flecks stand out more. It’s like staring at the Milky Way galaxy. Sucking you in, until you’re lost in him. It was spellbinding and disconcerting at the same time.
“Are you done checking me out, Sienna?” giving me a sideway glance and diverted back to the traffic ahead.
Busted.
“Not yet, just give me a few more minutes, I’m sure by then I’ve memorized all your flaws.” I quipped back.
A tad mortified that he caught me staring wide-eyed at him. “Are we almost there?” drastically needed to change the subject back to safer ground.
“Yes, few minutes or so. Then, you can sleep, my sweet into the abyss just as long as you promise not to snore,” smiling tenderly at my horrified expression.
“Ha! I do not snore!” I pinched at his leg.
“Owwww!” he yelped but had his god-like smile in check. Dreamy is more like it. I hate it that he has a way of disarming me with that smile.
As promised, we arrived in our destination in a few minutes outside the upscale hotel in Knightsbridge. Getting out of the sexy Aston Martin, he handed the car keys to the valet attendant and tended to me, with a hand on my back, he gently guided me to the hotel spa.
“Aww! How you read my mind, Knightly! Thank you! Thank you!”
“I hope this would make up from all the invested energy you put up with since this morning. Come.” Like I wouldn’t forgive him?
He held the door and we stepped inside. The reception was white and glass combination, giving a chic clean-cut effect.
“Mr. Knightly, welcome back!” Greeted with a flirty smile by the auburn haired, blue-eyed, svelte lady.
“Krista, Hello! How are you?” acting polite but distant, “I’m very good, Mr. Blake” peeking through her lashes. Suggestive.
“Okay, your room is ready. Olga will show you to it,” catching her wink at him and bit her bottom lip.
Disgusting much?
Jesus.
Olga appeared almost immediately and politely showed us to our reserved room.
I couldn’t run out of that place fast enough.
My massage haven awaits.
Ten
The moment I walked in there, I felt like I just walked in to a set of Arabian Nights. It had an oval-shaped pool that was decorated with rose petals, further left of the room. Colorful silk made-up tent and beaded throw pillows, kaftan rugs, and large glass bowl-stands with petals and floating candles embellished the room.
The masseuse tables situated at the edge of the tent, sat about ten feet from a lightly-lit fireplace. The scented candles placed accordingly and strategically made the ambiance intimate, seductive and downright romantic. The room smelled of romance, a mixture of roses and berries with a hint of vanilla.
I was guided to his and hers changing room and requested that I wear this skimpy, barely there thong. I smirked.
Great, how the heck will I be ever comfortable lying next Blake almost naked? I’m sure I would doze off the minute those powerful hands knead my back, I was sure of it.
Is romance what Blake had in mind? Is it possible? Why would he book a suite?
He could’ve gotten separate rooms, but he didn’t.
So, if he was, was I ready to date him? I do and I don’t.
I just got out of being with Kyle. True, but I’m sure as hell not emotionally ready for someone as intense as Blake. That’s like taking on Hurricane Katrina.
Besides, he doesn’t seem to be keen in long-term relationships anyway.
Apart from Kyle, I haven’t been with anyone else, emotionally or physically. And Blake is a very intense person. How the heck do I handle him? I’ve seen how much damage the women havoc when he ends it with them. It was mayhem. They were hysterical, calling incessantly until he takes them back.
He never does.
No, thank you. I don’t plan to be one of those women.
Risking our friendship over sexual satisfaction? Maybe? I shoved that thought quickly in the back of my mind.
I came out of the changing room, dressed in a thong and a robe. I made my way towards where the massage tables were situated. My masseuse, a tall stern-looking man—possibly Eastern European, waited patiently for me. He introduced himself as Alec.
Blake was already on his stomach and had a scant towel draping his glorious ass. His back was all ripping-hard muscles, defined and cut. He had his head down even if the session hasn’t started yet. I’m sure he did that to make me feel uncomfortable when I try to position myself on the narrow table.
Hopefully, that scant towel will be enough to cover my bottom. Alas, as dreadfully predicted, it barely just covered it. Most times I’m proud of my “well-rounded assets” but at times like these, I wish the latter.
As they started working on our backs, Blake turned reached out and touched my arm softly.
“Feeling better?”