Love don't live here anymore

Chapter 16:

She escaped into his bathroom and locked herself in. She should not have even bothered to lock the door. He did not attempt to follow her in. Samantha showered, opened Blake's walk in cupboard and stared at the assortment of garments. There were at least twenty crisp white shirts as well as in other various colours hung neatly on hangars. Day suits, evening suits, ties galore and very chick casual designer wear draped on the other side.

Why does a man need that many pairs of black shoes?

Does Blake Tresscott do anything in small measure? Samantha removed one of his oversized white shirts and slipped it on.

She did not go back to his bed room. Instead she tiptoed to his living area, helped herself to a bottle of coke cola, and dropped onto the leather lounger, not bothering to switch on any of the lights.

She did not really mind being with Blake. In fact he was wonderful company, but she did not want pressure from him, and right now she needed space, she needed it badly, but she had made a promise to him. She had to endure another twenty four hours with him.

So for how long was she going to hang around in his lounge?

Should she go back to his bed?

It was not ten minutes later when the decision was made for her.

'My shirt looks better on you than it does on me,' he grinned, slotting himself next to her.

He'd showered as well, and again draped in a pair of silk boxers, and a gown that was unfastened.

'You have forty nine others to choose from tomorrow morning,' she quipped.

'You counted,' he laughed.

She smiled, admiring his handsome face. Jordan was right, he was so gorgeous.

Blake leaned over, slipped one arm behind her, and his lips captured hers in a slow deliberate kiss. Her fingers entangled in the soft wet curls at the nape of his neck, as she responded to his kiss. Blake gently drew away, still gazing into her face.

'I've ordered Chinese,' she murmured, 'from the Mr. Delivery menu next to the telephone.'

'You weren't kidding about Chinese,' he pulled a face.

'I almost cancelled the order, they're pretty busy tonight, and delivery's going to take like an hour,' she moaned.

'Excuse me a moment,' Blake's fingers caressed her cheek lightly before he rose.

Samantha walked over to the extensive array of DVD's stacked on the ceiling to floor rack. No wonder he was such a boffin about movies. He also had an impressive collection of standup comedy. The man had good taste, she had to concede. She studied the rack for a few minutes, then removed, "Peter Sellers' The Party."

'I love that, it's hysterical,' Blake stood behind her, slipping his arms around her waist.

'Good, I prefer comedy to horror,' she returned.

'So how many horror movies does the rack contain?' his teeth nibbled at her neck.

Actually come to think of it, she had not seen one horror movie title.

'I stopped counting at one hundred and twenty three __.'

'Okay haul them out,' he challenged, hoisting her in the air, as the door bell sounded.

'That can't be our dinner__' she murmured.

'Can't it?' he grinned.

'Impressive Tresscott. Thank you for your divine intervention.'