Free Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy by Charlotte Eve

from some of the other women in the room, too.
    I guessed I must be a part of this world now, but yet I still got that familiar sense of being out of my depth — of being a silly little girl playing ‘dress up’, hiding out in the mysterious world of grown-ups.
    “I’m late,” Blake said, busting me out of my trance. “My eleven o’ clock overran. It was very dull, I can assure you.”
    I smiled up at him. This was the first time I’d seen him in more formal attire: a deep navy suit – it was a perfect fit, I couldn’t imagine how much it must have cost – and beneath the suit, a crisp white shirt but no tie, the collar open, exposing his rich tanned skin beneath. I felt another small flutter, but this one definitely wasn’t from nerves. He’d shaved too, his skin looking so impossibly smooth and radiant, and as he dropped into his chair just a few feet away from me, I caught that subtle but heady scent of his cologne.
    Keep it together, Jessica .
    This is business, remember.
    “I’m starving,” he said, picking up a menu and casting a glance over it. “You mind if we eat first, then get down to business?”
    “Sure,” I said, “I’m hungry too.”
    Look at me , you bastard, not the God-damn menu.
    I followed Blake’s cue, picking up the heavy, leather-bound menu and casting a hesitant glance over the abundant list of exotic-sounding dishes.
    “I’d recommend the mishmishyia, if you’re still deciding,” Blake offered, without looking up from his menu. “It’s very good here.”
    I decided to keep it to myself that I’d never even heard of mishmi-what-did-he-say before, so wouldn’t know whether it tasted good or like crap, and instead I just smiled and nodded.
    “Sounds good.”
    When the waiter came to take our order, before I could even open my mouth to speak, Blake said, “We’ll both have the mishmishyia, and what do you say to a glass of the 2009 Borgogne rouge, Jessica? It’s a great vintage.”
    “Uh, sure,” I blushed, yielding once more to his will.
    I’d never had a guy order for me in a restaurant before. I called myself a feminist, so I thought that kind of thing was old fashioned, but I had to admit that it felt good, exciting even, to give myself up to him like that, to follow his orders, even though I was normally so in control …
     
    §
     
    “You were right,” I said, gently laying my cutlery down on my empty plate. “That was really good.”
    I felt a little tingly from the glass of red wine. That was really good too – I rarely drank wine but whenever Greg and I went out for dinner, we only ever ordered the cheapest bottle on the menu. I’d thought that was wine, but this – this was something different. Rich yet subtle, with a rainbow of competing flavors and notes; I could finally understood what got those magazine drink critics I usually shook my head at waxing so lyrical!
    We’d not talked much yet, and he’d hardly even looked up at me. I was trying to work out how to drop my new look into the conversation, to pluck up the courage to say thank you, when Blake once again seemed to read my mind.
    “I see you’ve taken advantage of the expense account,” he said with an expression I couldn’t quite fathom.
    Is that approval?
    Or something else?
    And I felt his eyes taking in my sheer shirt, my bra so visible beneath.
    “It looks good on you.”
    “Thanks,” I replied, unable to keep my cheeks from burning.
    “You’ve got a good body,” he continued, matter-of-factly, just as I was taking a sip of wine, and it was all I could do to stop myself from spitting it out over myself.
    “I’m sorry, what? ”
    “I said, you’ve got a good body,” he repeated coldly, “from what I’ve seen of it so far. I’m sorry, do you find that offensive?”
    “Not offensive, exactly,” I explained, “just a little, um, forward, perhaps?”
    At this he sighed and shook his head, more to himself than to me. He eased back in his chair, looked lazily around the