Last time in the Kissverse: Chuck and Blair's relationship got mixed reviews from their parents, who had decided to go into a business partnership. Chuck managed to save Thanksgiving and give Blair the key to his suite.

Chapter 10

"Mr. Bass will see you now."

The young lady left a cloud of mystery and Chanel No.5 in her wake as she sashayed past the confounded barista. She seemed so very familiar….

The sound of her heels striking the wooden floor echoed in the empty bar.

"Mr. Bass?"

The gentleman in question looked up from the receipts he was going over and his dark eyes appreciatively slid over her curvaceous form. He was younger than one would have expected and handsome as sin.

"Bl -!"

Before he could continue, she interrupted. "I'm here from Waldorf Designs. Mrs. Waldorf sent me. I have a sample of the burlesque costumes you commissioned."

He stepped into the role without missing a beat. "What shall I call you, ma chere?" As he said the words, he strolled slowly over to her.

"Whatever you would like, sir." Her obsidian eyes had a naughty gleam.

"We will see," his eyes were doing their share of flirting as well. "But, first...," he reached for the cardboard portmanteaux in her hand, "let's see the merchandise."

She slapped his hand away. "It's not in there." Her eyes darted down to her long black overcoat.

His fingers immediately went to the hem of her coat.

"Ah, ah, ah," she slipped out of his grasp, "A costume is so much more than just a piece of fabric. Accessories are so important. Look at my shoes," she gestured to the strappy black patent sandals on her feet. "Tell me, do you like them?"

"They are charming."

"And my stockings…they're so silky and textured," she purred, holding out a leg encased in finely knit lace.

His hand stretched out to trace a shapely calf. "They're…captivating." His hand slid up her thigh. It was suddenly very, very warm in the club.

His hand slid back down and she let out a sigh of disappointment…

Until he popped the bottom button on the cashmere coat…

And then the next…

And the next…

Until he'd unveiled an equally revealing satiny pair of black baby doll panties. "Enchanting!" He finished releasing the rest of the buttons on the coat and allowed it to slip off her shoulders and fall onto the floor.

His fingers returned to her and paused, spanning the indentation of her waist and squeezing before continuing his journey upward to…

A form-fitting red bodice with black lace trim that showcased a tiny waist and pushed her bosom into twin curves that swelled over the tops of the cups of the bustier.

"They're…enticing," he whispered the words directly on her skin. The thrill he felt go through her and cause her breath to hitch echoed right back through him. Slowly, he placed a feather light kiss on each silky soft sliver of skin before letting his lips trace the trail left by the thin, delicate straps and come to rest at the hollow of her collarbones.

He inhaled the cocktail of her perfume and the unique scent of her, so much more intoxicating than anything found at the bar. He hummed in appreciation as she stretched her neck sensuously.

"Mr. Bass?" He could hear the sigh in her voice.

"Hmm…?" He was about to lose the plot.

"Shall I tell Mrs. Waldorf you find the dancing costume satisfactory?" She drawled the last word out.

He pretended to consider the question carefully. "Well, I haven't actually seen it in motion yet, miss."

"Would you like me to dance?" The whispered offer was half shy, half wanton.

"Is that asking too much?"

"It would be my pleasure." She turned to take the stage.

He grasped her hand and whirled her around to face him, their lips mere inches apart.

"I had something a little different in mind…a little more…private. I want you to dance just for me. I crave it, in fact."

She swallowed as she appeared to consider Mr. Bass' proposal…and then she nodded.

He turned and called out to the bartender, asking him to turn up the music and telling him to lock up for the night. All the while his eyes never left hers.

Mr. Bass returned to his seat and leaned back in anticipation. "Show me your moves."

"Again, it would be my pleasure."

"If you do it right, the pleasure is something we'll share," he promised.

A new song came through the speakers.

She slowly stepped away from the coat, her heels clicking as she made her way over to the antique sofa.

As she grew closer, the walk turned to a saunter, to a sashay, to a slow dance. And then she was everywhere all at once: behind him, caressing his shoulders, sliding her hands down his shirt sleeves, whirling around him, hovering over him, her hips rhythmically swiveling in midair…and he was lost.

Without warning, her pulled her onto his lap and kissed her like he'd never let go.

She latched onto his shoulders and laced her fingers behind his head, gripping the dark ends of his hair in a way that was rough in its inhibition. Rough…and claiming.

It was some time later when she was collapsed in his arms, his hands tracing lazy circles over the exposed patches of skin on her thighs, that she asked his opinion again.

"I hope I didn't disappoint, Mr. Bass."

He wound his fingers through her dark curls. "You never fail to amaze me, baby." The last word was whispered in her ear, like a secret. Endearments were a rarity for Chuck Bass, usually reserved only for the most intimate of moments, and Blair treasured them all the more for this reason.

Their lips met again, lingering, and though they were costumed and in character, they had perhaps never been more themselves, more bare.

It was another evening, another kind of dress-up, not long after.

All heads turned at the Bass Industries gala when Charles Bass and Blair Waldorf strolled in, arm in arm. Chuck, as per usual, looked like he'd just stepped off the pages of the latest GQ magazine, his crisp white shirt and black tuxedo perfectly matching his coloring and his date. The young lady wore a floor-length black taffeta gown accented with a startlingly beautiful statement necklace and long black satin gloves. They looked like Old Hollywood had come to life.

"They make a beautiful couple," Cyrus Rose noted to his companion.

"Hmm," Eleanor Waldorf's response was noncommittal.

Cyrus' eyes darted to the lady's face. "I thought you were warming up to Chuck. You did say you designed some costumes for his club?"

"I did. And I am warming up a bit, but…," she broke off as the young couple headed their way. "Blair, I want you to meet someone. This is Cyrus Rose, who handled the partnership with Bass Industries for me."

Blair smiled and extended a hand to the jovial little man. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Mother's spoken very highly of you."

Cyrus bypassed her hand and pulled her into an enthusiastic and awkward embrace. "A handshake? Not enough!"

Blair's eyes flew wide open and the look on her face indicated that the gesture may have been "too much, too soon." Before she could recover her equilibrium, Cyrus had moved on to Chuck, who appeared to take the hug with better grace, or at least quiet acceptance.

The meeting was cut short by the signal that Bart Bass' "State of the Company" address was about to begin. Bart began by going over Bass Industries' recent and upcoming projects, even inviting Chuck to make some remarks on Victrola.

Blair's eyes never left Chuck as he spoke to the crowd and her proud smile was beaming.

Cyrus nudged Eleanor. "I don't think you need to worry about Blair's relationship with Chuck. They never take their eyes off each other, especially if they think no one is watching."

"She's just so different with him. I look at her sometimes and I barely recognize her." Something in Eleanor's voice sounded sad. "I was so busy trying to build my business…trying to keep my marriage together…I never noticed that my little girl was growing up."

"Well, it seems you've raised her well. She's intelligent, poised…and she seems happy."

Eleanor's eyes followed over to where Chuck had rejoined Blair and was leading her onto the dance floor. She could not disagree.

"I think this calls for champagne," Blair announced as soon as they were back in Chuck's suite.

"The gala was definitely a success." Chuck removed a magnum of finely aged Dom and two champagne flutes from the bar and set about decanting it.

"You were a success." Pride came through in every syllable. "Everyone loved your speech, even Bart."

Their glasses clinked together.

"I still can't believe it." Chuck seemed bemused.

"Believe." She set down her glass and took his face in her hands, staring up at him with a smile and welling eyes.

And then she kissed him.

He returned the kiss as if he were starving for her lips on his. The heat between them, once ignited, only grew in intensity.

He could feel her strip the bow tie from his collar, unbutton his jacket, release the buttons on his shirt, let her fingers tangle in his hair.

Blindly, he somehow found the zipper on her gown and an ebony cascade of fabric slid to the floor. He lifted her into his arms effortlessly and then Blair was completely wrapped around him and nothing else existed.

They were floating on the waves of the sheets, swimming in bliss…moving towards each other, against each other, with each other…

"Your lips taste like champagne," he murmured as he drew her lower lip between his.

"I love champagne," she sighed against his mouth. Her eyes opened dreamily and then locked on his and he was completely under her spell.

And then the unthinkable happened.

"I love you." The words slipped unbidden from his tongue.

Time stopped.

Breaths stopped.

They were hanging by a moment with only the sound of their racing heartbeats in the frozen silence.

What the hell had he just done?!

Shock and fear blazed through him before giving way to a determined certainty: planned or no, they were the truest words he had ever spoken.

And then a strong sense of anticipation overcame him and he waited for her reaction.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted.

Surely she felt it too? Was she going to say it?

"I…I…."

In the name of all bad timing, a loud rapping sounded at the door.

"Yes?" Chuck's response came from between clenched teeth.

"Do you require turndown service this evening, Mr. Bass?" a voice called from the other side of the suite door.

"No, thank you."

"Have a pleasant evening then." The voice moved further down the hall.

Chuck turned back to look at Blair, but she was already pulling him back into her arms.

So they let go of the panic that was sweeping through them and channeled it into a single-minded passion for each other.

"You in, Bass?"

Chuck was shaken from his reverie by the question.

"Weekend in Atlantic City. Grey Goose…gambling…girls? You know, unless you're too busy playing Queen B's handmaiden."

Chuck looked annoyed, Nate looked vaguely alarmed and the rest of the group just snickered.

"Sure. When?"

The young man named a date that gave Chuck pause—it was the weekend Blair's father was supposed to be visiting from Paris. Maybe she wouldn't mind? Maybe she'd even be glad to have more time to spend with her dad?

Trouble was, since the fateful night he'd said those three words/8 letters to Blair, he hadn't been at all certain of her feelings—on that or any other matter.

He thought she'd been on the cusp of replying when they were interrupted, but she'd simply gone back to kissing him and then they'd been lost in the moment.

He thought she'd surely respond the next morning…

The next day…

But over a week had gone by since then and still…no response.

Oh, she was still responsive to him. Her kisses were still passionate; her fingers still entwined with his; her eyes still locked on his.

But now there was a distance, a mystery, and it made him uncomfortable in a way he hadn't anticipated.

He went from waiting for her to say the words to resolving that he would not say them again until she did.

Maybe he had made a mistake in the timing. He'd spoken too soon and he was damn lucky that Blair was prepared to pretend that it hadn't even happened.

Except it had, and he was not prepared to develop amnesia about the subject. Maybe he hadn't meant to say it just then, but he knew it was true. And he'd thought it was true for her too.

She'd chosen him, chosen them. Over Nate. Over her mother's objections. Over the gossip and judgment of their peers. Not just once, but over and over again. Didn't that mean she felt it too?

If you said those three words to someone and they felt the same, weren't they supposed to say them back?

In truth, Chuck didn't know. He'd never before uttered the words to anyone and no one had ever said them to him. He hadn't realized just how very much he wanted Blair to be the first person he heard them from.

Maybe such delays were normal? Maybe she was saving the words for a special time?

He didn't know.

He only knew that waiting was a big gamble, one even Atlantic City could not hope to rival.

Chuck Bass ended up skipping the Atlantic City trip.

When Blair's father arrived back in Manhattan, it was with his French boyfriend Roman in tow…and Blair's hopes of reconciliation between her parents or at least a chance to persuade her father to move back to New York were shattered.

Blair had gone into scheming overload, enlisting Chuck's help in tracking down one of Roman's model exes and arranging for him to cross paths with her father and Roman.

As schemes went, it had been a bust. Harold and Roman were still joined at the hip.

If she could just get her father alone to talk…

She finally had some success on the walk to the ice rink. Until her father shared the 'great news' that he had just bought a chateau…in France…with Roman. He wasn't coming back home, now or ever.

The announcement drove Blair to new depths of desperation. She had to stop this!

Before she could formulate a new plan, however, Chuck arrived on the ice and for a couple moments, her attention was focused on him alone. She basked in the attention he paid to her matching plaid capelet and the short skirt that showed off her legs (he always loved her legs) in white tights. No one could relax her like Chuck.

Unfortunately, she got too relaxed. Deep in conversation, she totally blocked out the shouts of her father requesting help with Roman, who was a figure skating fiasco just waiting to happen. The Frenchman, usually so graceful on the catwalk, was a like a fish out of water on the ice. His legs seemed to go in opposite directions and his tall form flailed helplessly. Roman was still calling for Blair's help as he tried to skate towards the wall where she and Chuck were standing.

Now, if Blair had been paying attention, perhaps she might have attempted a bit of extra scheming and tripped the poor man, but as it was, she couldn't even avoid the collision of an out-of-control Roman careening straight into her. Her ankle twisted beneath her and she found herself embarrassingly sprawled on the ice, yelping in pain.

Roman was effusively apologetic. Her father was solicitous, to both her and Roman. It was Chuck who gently pulled her to her feet and to the edge of the rink and then carried her to his limo to get checked out at the hospital.

X-rays revealed that no bones were broken, but the nasty sprain would require rest, ice, compression and elevation to heal in the remaining two weeks before Cotillion. Blair seethed all the way home.

Her mood was not improved by finding Eleanor enjoying brunch with Cyrus Rose in the dining room. The pair looked disconcerted to see Blair and Chuck and they looked suspiciously cozy. Almost like…a date? No! Inconceivable! Her rage flared again.

By the time Chuck got her carried upstairs and settled onto her bed, Blair's temper was about to burst.

"You!" She glared at Chuck. "This is all your fault!" she hissed.

"My fault? How is this my fault?"

"I was off my game. If you hadn't been distracting me, this would never have happened!"

"They're called accidents, Blair," he said with a greater patience than he felt, "because they are unintended."

Blair grumbled on, undeterred. "If this doesn't heal up, we could miss Cotillion."

"You know, I'm only here to help you. I could be at a guys' weekend in Atlantic City right now."

"Then why aren't you?" she snarled. "I don't even know why you're here."

"Don't you?" He raised an eyebrow and she looked back at him quizzically.

There was a very pregnant pause.

"Blair, did you hear what I said to you?"

"Just now?" She was still confused.

"No, the other night. After the gala. In my suite. Before we were interrupted."

A look that could only be characterized as fear spread across her face.

He pushed on. "Did that mean anything to you? Do you have any response to that?"

"I—I can't…," she faltered, unable to look at him. "That was a mistake."

"A mistake? That's your response? It was a mistake?!" His voice rose in volume. In all his life, Chuck Bass had never been so angry. "If that's how you feel, then I guess it was."

She flinched as though he had struck her, and that just made him angrier. How dare she act as though she were the wronged party when she was the one rejecting his feelings? His heart and his pride were still smarting from the wounds she had just inflicted.

Tears welled in her eyes and her voice cracked as tried to find something to say to counter the hurtful words he'd just said. "You want to go be Chuck Bass in Atlantic City? Fine, leave. Everyone leaves."

She was kicking him out. For a moment, he just stood there looking at her. He'd been a fool to think this could end any other way than it was ending right now. He was not the hero, not the prince in the fairy tale. And he had just been exiled from the kingdom by the queen herself.

He'd been bemused by that first kiss and clearly he hadn't been in his right mind ever since. Why was he standing here feeling completely eviscerated by her?

He turned on his heel and began to move toward the door, slowly at first and then more deliberation. If asked, he would have vehemently denied that he was half listening for her to call his name.

Silence.

Blair sat frozen on the bed until she heard the sound of the elevator doors closing. Only then did she allow the tears suspended on her lashes to roll down her cheeks and a whispered "I love you, Chuck" to escape her lips.

To Be Continued in Chapter 11

Author's Note:

It's not my usual happy ending to a chapter, is it? Hang in there, readers, a bend in the road is not the end of the road.

My apologies that this chapter is overdue. I was in the hospital for close to a week with pneumonia and heart issues brought on by the pneumonia. It was really scary and I'm so relieved to be home, even though I still feel weak. Readers, if you haven't already gotten a flu and pneumonia vaccine, I'd recommend considering it.

Special thanks to Chrys1130, Shrk22 and mercury1893 for beta assistance.

Thoughts on this chapter? I'd love to hear from you. Please drop me a review.

Xoxo