The Matchmaker's Playbook - Page 40/84

Blushing, she wiped her mouth and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m always starving after practice. And I didn’t have time to pack any protein bars, because I was too busy playing nurse all night.”

“Without the nurse outfit,” I complained.

“You still have that?” Lex asked.

“You guys are . . .” Blake stood. “Well, let’s just say it makes total sense, what you do.”

“What?” I ate more soup now that it was cooling off. “We save women from themselves. And more importantly, we help them get the men of their dreams. If that’s so wrong, I don’t wanna be right.” I winked, and Lex held up his hand for a high five.

Blake moved back around the breakfast bar and pressed a palm to my forehead.

“Ouch.” I nearly fell back out of my chair. “Kinda rough, Blake.”

“Last night you said you liked it rough. Just following orders.”

“I did?”

“Yup.” She removed her hand. Despite the glint in her eyes, I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “Right before you told me to lick your ears.”

“Erogenous zone,” I offered with a smirk. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“Your fever’s gone.”

“Good.” I stood and moved to grab my computer.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Blake jerked the computer from my hands.

“Uh . . . working? I have a near-perfect GPA, and I need to keep it that way. I need to e-mail my profs, make sure we don’t have any new clients that need interviewing, and—”

“Nope.” She held the computer against her chest. “You’re weak from the fever. Today you need to just chill. Then tomorrow you can work.”

“I’m your love coach. If I chill, that means you aren’t getting your man.”

She chewed her lower lip and frowned. “I’ve waited this long. What’s one more day?”

Sighing, I reached for my computer.

She pulled away.

“Blake.”

“Ian.”

I looked to Lex for help, but he’d already left the room.

“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll just sit here and watch TV for the rest of the afternoon and evening, then go to bed at six.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine.” Blake kept her death grip on the computer and made her way over to the couch. “So what are we watching?”

“You can’t stay,” I blurted.

“Why not?”

“Because!” I had work to do. I wasn’t kidding about the homework or the need I had to make sure everything was on schedule. The sooner I got rid of her as a client and into David’s stupid arms, the sooner she’d realize what a tool he was and come running back.

Right? All I knew was I wanted our time to be finished, so that it would actually be fair for me to join the game rather than watch from the freaking sidelines.

“We’re friends,” she announced.

I almost threw up. “What did you just say?”

“Friends.”

That’s what I thought. The f-bomb.

“I have two. Don’t need another. You know, the whole third-wheel thing.” I shrugged. “Now, if you want an upgrade, I can easily arrange more. Think of it as friends”—I held up one hand, then held up the other—“but you get benefits, like you’d get with a real job.”

“You mean friends with benefits.”

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

“Ian.”

“Yes?”

“Sit down, shut up, and try not to get delirious again.”

Exhaling with frustration, I moved to the farthest end of the couch from her and sat. Not because I wasn’t intoxicated by her presence, but because I was suddenly realizing that I had no self-control where she was concerned, and I didn’t want her to realize how much she affected me.

How much I wanted to taste her again and again.

And how much I resented the fact that she would never want me in the same way.

For the first time in my life, I wanted a girl that wasn’t mine to have.

And it sucked.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Ian?” Blake said. Somehow she’d managed to make her way from her end of the couch over to mine. Our leather couch was nice; one end of it had the longer side without cushions or whatever the hell you called it, so a person could lie back with their feet up and watch the movie.

“What up, sweet cheeks?” I yawned and wrapped an arm around her, then froze. Shit, it was too natural.

She cuddled into me.

My entire body seized with pleasure as she placed a hand on my chest and let out a heavy sigh.

“Out with it,” I said. “And know the only reason I’m not pausing Game of Thrones is because I’ve seen this episode a thousand times. Otherwise, I’d duct-tape your mouth. You’ve been warned.”

“Wow.” She exhaled loudly. “Thanks.”

“So . . .” I ran my fingers up and down her arm. It was instinctual; I couldn’t keep my hands to myself and didn’t want to. She was wearing a loose pink racerback tank top and a pair of spandex shorts that showed off a good chunk of her curvy ass and nice legs. “What’s on your mind?”

“Do you ever . . . ?” She tensed a bit then, as if telling herself to relax, and leaned into me. “Do you ever think that what you thought you wanted isn’t actually what you want anymore?”