Chasing Beautiful (Chasing 1)

“Blake, if you must insist, but until I make up my mind—you have to respect my boundaries,” giving him a peck on the left cheek and moved a little closer to his ear and whispered “thank you,” I swiftly moved and accidentally grazed my ni**les on his chest. The friction tingled all the way to my core. He immediately hissed through his clenched teeth.

Oh, my God. That felt wonderful.

“Sienna—try not to test my limit—because I would gladly throw caution out and take you right here until I’ve my fill with that glorious body—until your limp and worn-out from me f**king you,” warning me with tested patience.

“Right”

What the hell do I say to that?

I stepped out of the pool, leaving him as his powerful gaze burned holes through my back.

I daren’t look back unless I really like playing with fire.

And he was a searing, scorching, and sizzling with fire that was waiting to be unleashed.

ON. ME. Shit.

Eleven

I woke up startled from my surroundings and dawned that I was in Blake’s apartment. The bedroom was simple with a touch of understated warmth elegance and twice the size of my room.

A modern queen sized bed sat in the middle of the room with russet-colored damask patterned wallpaper. The other two walls were painted in ecru shade complementing the chic design. Lamps made of an actual rock in amber sat on both sides of the bed. A contemporary styled chaise lounge in pistachio silk slanted in the corner along with a large antique mahogany coffee table tucked neatly. The room basked aglow with three shaded floor-to-ceiling glass windows over-looking the streets of Mayfair.

His entire apartment, which was the whole tenth floor, was styled in the same manner; modern contemporary and expensive French antique accents which I think took the cold demeanor of the design.

The combination gave the whole place subtle warmth. I smiled. The comparison of the apartment and its owner was uncanny.

I gently rubbed my eyes as I yawned. Events from yesterday, flashed through my drowsy head. He drove us straight back to his place from the spa. Surprised, yes, but too exhausted to argue with him to take me back to my own place in Covent Garden.

Deep down, I was pleased that he wanted me to be close to him.

He cooked dinner, it was superb. I hadn’t known he was quite the skilled cook. After we ate, we caught a couple of episodes of Game of Thrones from the DVR player. We lounged with a bottle of red wine and chocolates truffles from the famous, La Maison du Chocolat—a completely marvelous way to end our day.

For the entire evening he never once tried to make a pass. He was respectful and kept his distance, though he would find a way to subtly touch me. Where you turn into a brainless creature every time he does touch you?

I was aware of him—even if he was in the room or not.

He acted like the usual Blake and that put me at ease. I was relieved. My mind is confused when it comes to him. I mean—I know what I want—but when he’s being all sexy and seductive—my thoughts turn to mush—and that’s perplexing.

When it was time for bed, he handed me one of his silk boxers and shirt to wear for bed. He decided, without asking me, that I should stay with him for the next few days until Sunday—when Luce arrives.

School starts Monday as he too begins his lengthy training to become a tycoon like his grandfather—who he’ll be shadowing until he’s ready to retire, which looms nearly in the horizon. He’s been learning the ins and outs of the business for the last two years he said—but this time—he’ll take on most of the responsibilities. His grandfather wants Blake to take over as soon as he deemed him ready.

Their family business is vast from what I heard from Toby. From oil, five-star restaurants, real estate, hotels and casinos just to name a few. I doubt their family can’t be estimated to be worth billions without an enormous diverse portfolio.

Blake knew what this entailed, knowing full well that his grandad will not be there forever. He needs to prepare for the inevitable hence the prepping and training him at the age of a twenty-four. He’s almost four years older than me.

The only thing that I’m worried about is Blake changing. He’s rich now—he made a lot of money from his own investments—but when the time comes when he can tap unlimited funds and resources—and surrounded by powerful men and the world’s beautiful women—I’m afraid that will it‘ll change him. I heard Toby joked about it before. I’m quite certain that he too believed it’s possible. Money and power can be intoxicating—especially at his impressionable age.

I stretched for five minutes or so before going to bed. It helps me sleep better and my body doesn’t ache as much if I stick to one side the entire sleep. The moment my head hit the pillow, I immediately went to sleep. Sometime during the night, I felt him bend over and softly brushed my cheek, brushed it with his lips and whispered, “Sleep well my Sienna,” and quietly left my room to go to his own.

I slept like a baby after that.

Still lounging in bed, his beige fifteen-hundred count Egyptian cotton sheets haphazardly tangled on my legs, I looked across and stared at the sky from windows.

I felt well rested and almost felt like I’m myself again.

My face heated and my stomach coiled from memories of the pool incident surfaced.

I groaned.

Damn the man.

He looked so good. And that body…my God. Thinking about it makes me all hot and bothered. I would never—for the life of me—can ever fathom how I managed to declined his offer that night. It will undoubtedly baffle my psyche for the rest of my life.

Not hearing the door creaked open, I was surprised when Blake sat on the bed across me, amused and sexy as hell. “Devising a plan to stay in bed all day, poppet?”

If he only knew…how long can I endure—this longing—for him—before I succumbed to what my body is aching for?

I noticed that he had light stubble growing on the sides of his face—it made him utterly and painstakingly gorgeous. How does one manage to look beautiful after waking up in the morning? I bet I looked like a fright.

I looked away from his face. He caught me studying him several times already—much to my growing embarrassment.

Wearing a fitted black shirt and sheer black cotton pajamas, I would never have guessed in a million years that he was a pajama man. I thought along the lines of going commando was more his thing.

“Can we please? I need to just rest and unwind,” I exclaimed. I’m still tired from my trip. Watching me intently, he reached out brushing the hair off my face and tucked it behind me ear.