All the Way Read Online Free Page B

Blake’s body had leaped to life at her touch.
    “Damn, baby.”
    “Hmm?”
    “Uh, hold on—and don’t move your hands. I’ll have you home soon.”
    After a few minutes of riding, Blake forgot the pressure throbbing below his belt as he slipped into a rider’s trance. Summer night air streamed over his arms, pounded against his face. An adrenaline rush spiraled through his veins.
    Nothing compared to driving a motorcycle. It was the perfect blend of control, speed and freedom. Although Layla seemed clueless, Blake perfectly understood Rob’s obsession with motorcycles. It matched his own.
    Pulling in a lungful of fast-moving air, he sighed. Nothing like it in the world .
    Twenty minutes later, Blake steered his motorcycle into the driveway. His driveway. Better to do this on his turf. He didn’t want a door slammed in his face when she heard the proposition he had in mind. Blake could use all the luck he could get, since getting lucky seemed out of the question.
    How much were lassos running these days? He stifled a grin as he killed the engine and braced himself for what would follow.
    After the roar of the engine died, the quiet left behind seemed deafening.
    Leaping off the motorcycle as fast as possible, Layla landed with one ankle sideways. A breath hissed through her teeth. She held still, hoping the pain would stop.
    “If you had been patient, I would’ve helped you off.” He came around the side of the bike. “I can be a gentleman.”
    “I never would’ve guessed.” She hopped a few paces, but the pain intensified.
    Without warning, Blake swept her off her feet into his arms. He strolled up the front walkway with her, toward his house.
    “Hey. What the—? Wait a minute. Why are we at your place?”
    “I changed my mind. We need to talk. We’re doing it here.”
    “Put me down.” She got no response, bouncing up and down in his arms. “Fine. I’ll walk home. I only live a few streets away. I just need to get out of these heels.”
    “You’re in no position to make demands, sweetheart.”
    “I told you not to call me that.”
    “Sorry—baby.”
    “ Blake .”
    He shoved his key into the front door and kicked it open. “Isn’t this romantic? I’m crossing the threshold of my house with you in my arms.”
    “Stop or I’ll gag,” she said, holding tight to him. His scent surrounded her, dark spice and leather. This close, she could see flecks of gold and turquoise in his deep green eyes.
    “Not into romance?” he asked. “No, I guess not. Jack Johnson doesn’t strike me as the wine and roses type.”
    “That subject is getting old.” She glanced away, feeling a painful throb in her chest recalling Blake’s “newsflash” about her ex…the other women’s driveways….
    “Did he leave a bad taste in your mouth? I can remedy that.”
    You already have . “Let go of me—now.”
    Blake paused with one foot on the threshold. “Will you come inside?”
    “Are you going to be nice to me?”
    “How nice do you want me to be?” The comment dripped with sensual promise.
    “Oh, please. Get over yourself.”
    “I’ll leave that to you, since you did such a bang-up job the last time.”
    Ouch . Then again, Blake had done a fine job of moving on , too. After their fight and his distance, on the few occasions she came to pick up Robby at Blake’s house there were various women arriving on his doorstep. At least she had moved on to just one person. How many women had been in this house, in his bed?
    An ill feeling lodged in her stomach, until she reminded herself she hadn’t been anything special to him.
    Blake eased her out of his arms in the middle of his living room. “Have a seat.” He gestured to his wrap-around sofa that engulfed most of the living room, Thomasville furniture from their Hemingway collection. The dark wood contrasted with the mustard walls, emanating warmth, solidness and masculinity.
    Layla focused on stepping out of her heels, and wondered who was the