I took a step back, hitting the railing of the gazebo.
He lifted his hand and brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear. I jumped at the feel of his touch, then trembled.
“God, you’re so beautiful.”
With a trembling voice, I replied, “Blake, go back inside.”
His eyes moved slowly over my face. When they landed on my mouth, I licked my lips before pressing them shut tight.
“I should, but I don’t want to.”
“What do you want to do?” I asked with a breathless voice.
Blake smiled at me, and my legs felt weak. I reached out and grabbed the railing to hold myself up.
“I want to kiss you.”
Before I could voice my disapproval, his lips were pressed to mine. His tongue swept across my lower lip, urging me to let him in. I tried to fight it but quickly gave up the battle when he growled.
Our tongues moved in slow rhythms. The taste of whiskey and red wine mixed in a heady concoction. We both moaned, and I went to reach for him, but stopped myself, forcing my hands back to the rail. If I touched his body, I knew I would give him more.
When Blake withdrew his mouth from mine, he cursed softly and took a step away. The urge to reach out for him was so powerful I had to grip the rail with all my might.
“Blake? Morgan? What are you two doing down there?” Nash called out.
Not taking his eyes off me, Blake casually stepped a few feet away and called out, “Showing your sister the gazebo I designed and you built.”
I sucked in a breath of air, taking in the gazebo once again, this time giving it a better look. His words from earlier rushed back. The gazebo was designed for romance. Blake had designed it. Since when did this man standing in front of me believe in romance?
“Rose is looking for you. Said something about needing to leave,” my brother called out.
“I’ll be right there,” Blake said, still keeping his gaze locked on me. “See you later, princess.”
Nothing would come out. No words, no breath. Nothing. Something froze me in place. My head spun with so many emotions, and none of them made any sense.
Blake turned and walked down the steps of the gazebo, picking his pace up to a jog.
My fingers went to my tingling lips. I closed my eyes and whispered his name, “Blake.”
I stared at the bare canvas in front of me. The image was there, begging me to paint it. My mind told me to bury it deep inside and to forget all about it. If only I could.
Picking up the brush, I made the first stroke. Calmness spread through my body as I let my brush flow freely. Painting made me happy. It eased the guilt, pain, and anger that had seemed to take up residence in my heart and soul since Mike died. Maybe it had been there even before Mike. I never could explain the emptiness I had felt, even when I thought I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. I sometimes wondered if I knew deep down that my happiness wasn’t meant to be with Mike. Maybe it was being saved for someone else.
Blake.
I thought back to that first time I had met him—at a party Nash had brought me to. The way Blake had looked at me that night made me feel on fire. I didn’t really think he noticed me. I figured he was simply being polite because I was his best friend’s little sister, even though I was attending the same school. A part of me wanted to get to know Blake more that night, but I pushed it aside and let guilt replace it. Guilt that I had thought of another man like that when Mike was in the army.
A strange thought hit me.
Maybe Mike felt my emptiness as well.
My hand froze, and I felt a tear slip free and make a slow path down my face.
“How did I not see how unhappy we were? Why didn’t you talk to me?” I whispered.
Wiping the tear, I pushed away the guilt and buried it deep down inside. It did me no good to sit here and question it now. I could only move on and pray that I could help someone like Mike. Give them the chance to see the light and not be caught in the darkness.
An hour later, I stood and stretched. I stared at the painting, knocked br