The Invitation
I went back to my apartment that night, heart still thudding from the kiss.
Blake’s lips. The way he’d said “fuck it” and just—gone for it. Bold, sudden, like he couldn’t stop himself anymore. But even as I lay in bed, replaying every second of it, I could still feel the hesitation underneath. That quiet restraint he hadn’t quite shaken. Like he wanted it, wanted me, but something in him was still holding back.
Even the next morning, at my best friend’s gender reveal party—surrounded by cupcakes, shouting uncles, and way too many shades of pink and blue—I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not the balloons. Not the smoke cannons. Just Blake.
That kiss.
That hand on my cheek.
That low, breathless “I should go.”
And now here I was, showing up late to the office on a Saturday, carrying the weight of that moment like it was still stuck to my skin.
Technically, I wasn’t expected to come in today. But the deck Blake had assigned still needed polish, and I figured this was the perfect time to get it done—quiet, empty, no distractions. Just me, my laptop, and a comically oversized iced coffee from the place down the block.
The floor was mostly deserted. A few suits I didn’t recognize lingered near the corner offices, but otherwise, it felt like a ghost town.
Except for one closed door at the end of the hall.
Blake’s.
I tried not to think too hard about it as I took my seat, booted up my laptop, and opened the deck. But then—soft footsteps. The sound of a door opening.
I turned instinctively.
And there he was.
Blake Maddox, in a black crewneck with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, dark jeans that fit a little too well, and hair that looked like he’d run his fingers through it instead of a comb. Casual. Effortless. Unfair.
He stepped out of his office. Stopped. His eyes locked on mine.
There was a beat—long enough to feel.
No smile. No nod.
Just a quiet stare before he turned and went back into his office, door clicking shut behind him.
Cool. Definitely no lingering tension there.
I exhaled and stared at the blinking cursor on my screen. Then, without really planning to, I stood up, grabbed the printed deck pages, and walked.
My feet took me there before my brain could talk me out of it.
I knocked once and pushed the door open.
He looked up from his desk as I stepped in, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.
“Mr. Maddox,” I said—formal, safe. “I brought the updated deck for tomorrow. Sorry it took a while. I… needed to rework a few sections.”
He held out his hand. I crossed the room and passed the pages to him.
His fingers brushed mine—just slightly—but the contact was enough to jolt me. That heat again. That pulse under my skin that had only gotten stronger since last night.
“Thanks,” he said softly, eyes on the pages. Then, quieter, “You didn’t have to come in today.”
I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. “I figured it’d be easier to focus. Plus… I wanted to make sure you had time to review it before tomorrow.”
He flipped through the first couple pages, nodding. Silence stretched for a moment.
I turned to leave.
But then—
“Troy?”
I stopped.
He was looking at me again. And this time, it wasn’t with polite professionalism. It wasn’t guarded. It was something else—gentle, conflicted, a little unsteady.
“I’ve been thinking about last night,” he said quietly. “And before I say anything else… I want you to know something.”
I watched him, waiting.
“I don’t want this to be a thing we fumble through,” he said. “I want to do it right.”
His voice was low. Measured. Like saying it out loud cost him something.
“You caught me off guard last night,” he continued. “Not in a bad way—just… I wasn’t prepared to want something like that.”
I blinked.
Something like that?
He stepped around his desk slowly—not too close, just enough that we were finally standing face-to-face. Nothing between us now except space and whatever had been simmering in it for weeks.
That scent—sharp, clean, and masculine—drifted from his clothes again. The same one that had clung to his car last night. The same one I was still thinking about when I fell asleep.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, then lifted again.
And then, with the smallest tug of a smile—
“How about dinner tonight?”
My stomach did a full somersault.
“Oh,” I said, too fast. “Um… yeah. Yeah, sure.”
“Good.” He nodded once, like it was decided. “No suits. No work talk. Just… us.”
He paused, then added with a crooked grin, “Unless you really want to show me that deck again.”
I laughed, caught somewhere between breathless and lightheaded. “I think you’ve seen enough of my deck.”
Blake raised a brow, eyes sparkling. “Bold for a Saturday, intern.”
But the smile stayed—warm, real—and the tension between us hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had deepened.
His voice dipped lower, still teasing but now laced with something softer. “So… dinner then?”
I nodded, trying hard not to look too eager even though my pulse was going crazy. “Can I pick you up at seven?” he asked casually, like he hadn’t just turned my whole Saturday into a countdown clock.
My face warmed. I had no idea what to do with my hands. “Sure,” I said, giving a small smile. “Blake.”
His eyes lingered on mine a beat too long. He didn’t look away right away—and that smile of his didn’t fade either.
The way it tugged at the corners of his mouth, slow and sure, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me…
Yeah.
I was completely screwed and I couldn't wait for it.
Note to Readers:
If you have been liking the story so far, consider supporting me. Follow my Patreon for early access to future parts, bonus scenes, extended version and much more.
P.S: All parts of this story are already released in case you want early access.
