Forever Blake (Once Upon a Player Book 3) by Elena Matthews (motivational novels for students .txt) 📕

it would take was a few inches, and my mouth would be on hers. My dick throbbed at the memory of her lips on mine, her tongue melting against my own as I drove inside her tight pussy hard and fast.

“Reagan,” I practically whimpered out, my voice husky as the memories continued in my head.

“Not Reagan. Ever,” she responded, her voice just as hoarse as mine.

Hearing her tell me to call her Ever was my undoing. I edged closer until our lips were a breath apart, but before our lips could touch, the sound of my phone ringing halted me. The simple monotone sound of the ringtone might as well have been a bucket of ice-cold water with how quickly it awakened our senses. We practically jumped away from each other.

Taking my cell from the cupholder, I held the vibrating device up to see Edwin’s name flashing away.

Shit, it’s almost like he could sense that I was about to cross the line with his daughter. Again.

“Um, I’d better take this,” I murmured, my palms sweating and my heart racing from both the near kiss and the realization of why we couldn’t do what we both desperately wanted to. “You should probably get inside.” I hated how abrupt I’d sounded right now, but I couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than her father calling me.

“Yeah, I guess it’s getting late.”

I also hated how disappointed she’d sounded, but I was unable to acknowledge it. I simply faced away from her, as if the presence of her in my car was nothing but a nuisance.

“Night, Blake.”

I barely gave her a side-glance as I responded with a curt, “Night, Reagan.”

My eyes squeezed shut as she all but slammed the door when she got out of my car, but I was unable to allow myself to get affected by her reaction. I accepted the call and brought the phone to my ear.

“Hey, Edwin. What can I do for you?” I greeted, and with how slick and smooth my voice was, you’d never guess that my insides were trembling.

And that was my night.

Now, it’s the awkward morning after, and I’m standing in the door to the office Reagan is currently working in, a latte with her name on it in my hand. It seems to be my apology drink for her because I keep turning into the biggest jerk. Well, more accurately, I turn into a jerk in order to keep my hands off her. I don’t know how this is supposed to work.

How the fuck do you keep a platonic relationship with your intern when she’s all you can think about?

Like now, I just want to storm over to her, lift her up into my arms, and kiss her until we’re both completely breathless—to the point that we’re nearly hyperventilating. But I can’t, and it’s frustrating as hell. I often wish that Ever, the girl I met at Happy Hours that night, and Reagan, my intern, were two different people. Then, I’d get to be with the perfect woman without worrying about the consequences of crossing the line with my intern.

I laugh to myself.

Shit. Here I am, complaining that I can’t sleep with the woman of my dreams when there are third-world problems happening all around us. Problems that are greater than mine. Then again, it’s a pretty good day when your only problem is that of a chick.

Pull yourself together, Blake.

I steel my back and make my way to Reagan.

“Hey,” I say softly as I approach.

She tilts her head up to look at me.

“Hi.” She smiles, but when I don’t see the crease in her eyes, I know she’s upset with me after last night.

Here comes the apology latte.

I hold out the to-go cup and give her my best puppy-dog eyes. “I thought you might like a morning pick-me-up.”

She eyes the cup before flicking her gaze back to me. “I’m actually perky enough this morning.”

I breathe out a sigh. She isn’t going to make this easy for me, is she?

Perching myself on her desk, I close the distance a little. “Look, I’m not good at this.”

“You’re not good at what exactly?”

“Apologizing.”

“And what do you have to apologize for?”

The way she sears her eyes into mine, I know she knows why I’m saying sorry. It’s okay; she’s entitled to some sarcasm and mockery since I was a colossal douche.

“Last night. I was out of order, treating you like that. I just forgot who you were for a minute, and when your father called, it freaked me out. It felt like he could see that I was about to”—I lower my voice to avoid anyone overhearing me—“kiss his daughter. Also, I shouldn’t have allowed a moment like that to happen between us. It was unprofessional. I’m sorry, okay?”

I try to hand her the takeout coffee, and this time, she accepts.

“I accept your apology for how things ended last night but not for the near kiss.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“There were two of us in your car last night. Two of us crossing the line. Last night was as much my fault as it was yours.”

“Yes, I know…but I’m your boss, so there should be no lines to cross.”

“In an ideal world, yes, but we don’t live in an ideal world. Nothing is ever just black or white. We slept with each other before I knew who you were. We have a past—granted, a short one—and we’re attracted to each other. You can’t blame us for getting caught up in the moment. We’re only human. We’re bound to slip up from time to time. Just chill. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself.”

I blink. And then blink again. Is she messing with me?

“So, you’re not mad?”

“No, not about that. You just need to work on your transition from nice guy to emotionally stunted douche bag.” The way she smiles her pretty smile tells me she’s kidding. Or at least, I think she is.

“Emotionally stunted, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Maybe your job today should be to find me a