24. Alessandra
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
alessandra
“Stop looking at me like that,” I snap.
Booth’s puppy dog expression intensifies.
“ Don’t shout at me. I’m injured.” He hisses when the ice pack shifts across his swollen knuckles.
“Because you punched somebody!”
I blinked, and Kyle was on his ass, clutching his nose as Booth stared at his clenched fist in shock.
He isn’t a violent man and a sliver of regret laced his features when blood gushed from Kyle’s nose.
Before he could kick up a fuss, Dex and Patrick hauled Kyle out of Shirley’s and Graham drove everyone else home.
I’ve been pacing the length of Booth’s boathouse since then.
“Aly, sit down. You’re making me dizzy,” Booth says softly from the sofa.
My hands fly up in the air.
“ You punched him, Booth . You could get arrested.”
He laughs but clamps his mouth shut when I scowl at him.
“ Sorry , it’s not funny. Well …it is. The sheriff went to school with my parents. Plus , Kyle is a dick who deserved it. ”
He’s not wrong.
I won’t tell him that, though.
For one, I can’t work out why I’m mad.
“I had it handled.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Kyle should thank me. If I left him to you, he’d need a lifetime of therapy.”
His grin widens at my sneer.
“ Come here.” He crooks a finger at me and my stomach dips at his heated gaze.
My pacing stops in front of him.
“ That’s not a good idea. I might hurt you.”
His head cocks to the side.
“ So what you’re saying is if I wasn’t injured, you’d consider it?”
An oomph leaves him when a pillow hits him in the face.
“You won’t be able to work. What’s the restaurant supposed to do?” I drop to my knees and gently lift his hand.
Eyes trained on his mottled red knuckles.
“ You didn’t need to do that for me.”
With his good hand, he hooks a finger under my chin.
“ I know. I wanted to. Had to, actually.”
Booth doesn’t think; he does.
At first, I put it down to him being impulsive and immature, but the more time I spend with him, the more I understand.
He’s loyal to the core, headstrong, and puts his all into everything he does.
And he’s found me worthy of falling into that bracket.
An odd sensation seizes me as I catalog his bruised hand, sincere expression, and, well, him.
After placing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, I surge upward and seal my lips to his.
A weightlessness accompanies the feel of his mouth against mine.
I could float into the atmosphere, disappear into the Milky Way , if it weren’t for the unstoppable magnetism grounding me.
Since New Year’s Eve , my defenses have weakened considerably .
Ignoring the meaning behind it all, I deepen the kiss, weave my fingers through his messy hair, and wordlessly ask him to follow my lead.
His grip is harsh as he cups the back of my neck, tongue exploring my mouth lazily.
Our touches roam, and a deep rumble vibrates in his chest when my fingers curl around the waistband of his sweats.
When they trace over his smooth, hard skin, my desire skyrockets.
Groaning in frustration against my lips, he pulls away.
He plucks my hand out of his pants and holds it against his cheek, smiling at me carefully.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His words negate his torn expression.
Mortification drips over me.
His rejection is a punch in the chest.
I shoot to my feet, snatch up my coat, and make it two steps before a strong forearm anchors me to his chest. “ Fuck , no. You’re misreading this. I want you.” His hard length presses into my lower back in confirmation.
“You said this isn’t a good idea.” I despise the dejection in my voice.
“Silver, you said one night. And that was after you left me high and dry in the cabin, swearing to pretend that morning never happened. Then the supply closet happened… Forgive me for being a teensy bit confused right now.”
Twisting in his hold, my eyes fix on the divot at the base of his neck.
“ I’m not good at”— I point between us—“ This . I’ve already told you I’ll be leaving soon.”
His shoulders deflate.
“ Will you look at me?”
I raise my gaze, and he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.
“ I’m not asking for your hand in marriage.” He exhales a slow breath.
“ We’re attracted to each other, you excite me, and I’d like to spend time with you until you leave. ”
His honesty is refreshing.
Reading between the lines, he’s suggesting a no strings agreement.
Could I do that? For one, it would make my remaining time in town more entertaining and hopefully be a good distraction.
Most of my relationships have been casual.
But no one has roused me like him.
And that’s the scariest part.
My decision is obvious or stupid.
“We have to keep things professional at work. And no telling your family.” After Dex and Jo’s comments recently, that’s likely impossible.
His smile slips. “ Oh , um, so about that.”
Point proven.
I cock my head. “ Gossip much?”
“Hey, it wasn’t me. They have no boundaries.” His expression tells me he’s full of crap.
“ I swear it stays between us. I’m nothing if not professional.”
He’s a goof, but in the kitchen, he’s a master.
“Okay then, it’s settled.” I poke him in the chest. “ But if you refer to us as fuck buddies, I’m pulling the plug. When it’s time for me to leave, we go our separate ways. After that, I’m simply the woman that signs your paychecks.”
The corner of his mouth picks up.
“ Deal .”
He holds out his hand, and the second I slide my palm into his, he’s crushing his lips to mine.
That small contact sends pleasure zipping through my body, as if he’s everywhere at once.
Breaking the kiss, he whispers against my lips.
“ But tonight, we’re going to talk, then sleep.”
I frown.
“ That sounds very domesticated. And any sleeping shall occur under different roofs.”
He ignores me and steers me into the small bathroom.
“ There’s a spare toothbrush under the sink. Help yourself to anything.”
“This is classed as kidnap—” The door shuts in my face .
The wood muffles his voice.
“ Quit fighting it, baby. Until you cross town lines, I’m making the most of our time together.”
I raise my middle finger.
“Don’t flip me off either. Or there’ll be trouble.”
I throw my hands up in frustration but ultimately give in.
Not even two minutes later, I’m livid.
Flinging open the bedroom door, I stomp to where he’s lounging on the bed, an arm slung behind his head.
My furiousness, for whatever reason, ignites a fire in his gaze.
“ What have I done this time?” he drawls.
“Well, I helped myself to anything, and came across your collection of cleansers and toners.” I thrust my hands on my hips.
“ You’re deluded if you think I’m using leftover products from your last one-night stand.”
He’s silent for a millisecond before bursting into laughter.
“Aly, Aly , Aly ,” he sings playfully as he sits up.
“ Where’ve you been my whole life?” We both falter at his sentimental question.
He recovers and attempts to keep a straight face.
“ The products are mine.”
I blink once.
Twice . “ Come again?”
“They’re mine. Can’t a guy have a ten-step skincare routine without being judged?” He dips his head.
“ Now , for someone so intent on reminding me how misogynistic the world is, that’s very sexist of you to presume they weren’t mine.”
“I’m already regretting this agreement.” I huff, and stomp back into the bathroom to finish getting ready, ignoring his snickering.
When I reemerge, he uses the bathroom—forgoing his nightly routine considering how quick he is—and returns in just a pair of black briefs.
I’m standing at the foot of the bed, and avert my gaze when he ambles over.
He comes up behind me, minty breath coasting over my neck.
“ Question : Do you like being jealous? ”
I don’t dignify him with a response and watch him slide back into bed with a smug expression on his face.
As he’s about to crack another joke, I slip my silk cami up and over my head, letting it drop to the floor.
That shuts him up.
His eyes trail down my torso, gaze tickling my skin like featherlight touches.
I flick the buttons on my pants and slide them down my legs to reveal black lace panties that match my strapless bra.
Gulping, he shakes his head vigorously.
“ I deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for saying no to sex tonight.”
“Which side is mine?” My voice is light, sweet almost, and I bend at the waist, giving him an eyeful as I unbuckle my heels.
When I straighten, a T -shirt hits me in the face.
“Put that on, you siren. Before I go back on my word and fuck you into this mattress until the sun comes up.” Each word is forced through gritted teeth.
With a quick scan of his bare chest, I unclasp my bra and slip on the white T -shirt, the threadbare cotton doing little to hide my perky nipples.
Booth groans dramatically and rolls onto his stomach.
The springs bounce as he punches the mattress.
“ How ? How are you sexier in my clothes than in your underwear?”
“Behave, or you’ll have both hands out of action,” I reprimand.
Pulling back the sheets, I climb in beside him and fluff up my pillows.
Booth pauses his tantrum to flip a switch by his head, leaving the bedside lamp to cast the room in a warm orange glow.
When he twists toward me, my stomach clenches at the intimacy of it all.
“So, sleep?” I ask abruptly.
He shakes his head and shuffles closer until his pelvis brushes my hip.
“ Lie with me.”
I inhale deeply, then roll to my side.
Butterflies erupt in my belly, the stupid little insects fluttering around even more when he cups my cheek and flashes me a crooked grin.
“Tell me something no one else knows?” he says in a hushed tone.
Alarm bells go off. Not even one hour in and he’s already pushing the boundaries of this arrangement.
I can’t understand his need to get to know me.
He’s no longer the enemy, but sharing parts of myself I carefully keep under lock and key doesn’t come easily.
He senses my trepidation.
“ I’ll go first then.” His hand slinks to my nape, thumb running in circles below my ear.
“ I was a baby when George and my dad opened the restaurant. According to my mom, Florence , Harriet , and I took our first steps right next to the driftwood bar our fathers spent a week building. We did our homework in the office, had family dinners after hours, and took prom photos on the restaurant floor. So it’s no wonder I decided on a career in hospitality.”
I listen closely, at the way his voice rasps slightly at the mention of his father.
My hand drifts to his chest, and I mindlessly trace shapes over his smooth skin.
“When I was thirteen, Gloria , our previous head chef, let me shadow her on a slow Monday afternoon. From that day forward, I was hooked. I begged for cookbooks that Christmas , started working as a dishwasher when I was old enough, and tried my hand at anything and everything. If it was edible, I wanted to cook with it. To me, being a chef wasn’t a career, it was my passion, something I spent my youth fantasizing over…”
“But?”
Remorse sweeps over his face like a dark shadow at my question.
“My fantasies didn’t involve me working in my family’s restaurant. I wanted to travel. To use ingredients from all corners of the world. To shoot my shot in Michelin star restaurants so I could say I tried. Our Place was always going to be a stepping-stone in my career, but it wasn’t supposed to be permanent.”
“What’s stopping you from pursuing those dreams?”
He smiles sadly.
“ My dad passed unexpectedly. Freak accident. His death left a crater-size hole in my family and as the grief lessened, I realized I couldn’t abandon his legacy. He always told me how proud he was to see me behind the pass he helped install and to hear the gushing reviews from customers when they tried my food. Turning my back on the restaurant would have meant turning my back on his memory.”
My fingers splay over his heart, eyes not wavering as I stare at him.
“ What did your dad think of your dreams?”
His heartbeat stutters under my palm.
Regret etches deep in his face, lining his mouth and forehead.
“ He didn’t know. No one does. Not even my siblings.”
“Booth,” I start.
“ You can’t believe he wouldn’t have supported you. No matter where you worked or moved to.”
His thumb shifts, grazing my bottom lip.
“ That’s nice of you to say, but you don’t know that, Aly .”
I’m speechless.
Underneath the cocky smiles and cunning wit, torment sits below the surface, waiting in the shallows for the tide to change.
He does a good job at concealing it.
Something we have in common.
“I love my job. I feel I should end with that, considering you’re keeping me employed and all,” he jokes, and at the flip of a switch his pain is gone.
His ability to lay it all out stuns me.
It makes me want to peel back my veil and share what keeps me up at night.
But if I verbalize it, I’ll have to follow through with my plan, and I’m not sure I have the guts for that just yet.
Or ever.
The sound of his laughter fades when he takes in my expression.
“ Hey , what’s wrong?”
My hand falls, and I study him closely, searching for the ulterior motive behind his candor.
“ Why did you share that with me?”
Surprise morphs his features.
“ Well , that’s a good question.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth as he thinks before he lifts a shoulder.
“ I guess I trust you.”
If anything from this whole evening petrifies me the most, it’s that.
Why would he put his trust in me?
There’s too much weight and pressure held within those words.
A responsibility I don’t want to take on.
“You shouldn’t,” I declare.
“ You don’t know me. Five minutes ago, you hated me.”
He recoils.
“ I’ve never hated you. I regret how we went about things initially, but you’ve surprised all of us. You’re also right. I don’t know you, and I’m trying to change that.” With the grip he has on my neck, he tugs me close.
“ I want to know what goes on in that beautiful, stubborn head of yours. To know what makes you tick. Your favorite foods. Maybe one day you’ll let me cook for you. I’m not looking for anything serious, Aly —we can both agree on that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to soak up every minute we have. Because after you’re gone, I can say, ‘ I met this incredible woman and for a little while, she was mine.’”
“I want you to know me,” I exclaim, my face turning into a furnace at my outburst.
Rather than ask how he can gain it, he brushes his lips over mine tenderly.
“ I know, Silv . And whatever pieces of yourself you give to me, I’ll treasure them like the gifts they are.”
Speechless, my mouth parts.
Booth takes advantage.
His tongue strokes mine softly, lips moving languidly.
He rolls us, pinning me to the mattress with his bulky frame and settling his weight on top of me.
Groaning and sighing, we tangle, giving ourselves over to the kiss.
My fingers trace the ridges of his spine before cupping his firm ass, encouraging him to press harder into my aching center.
“Stop trying to seduce me, woman,” he growls against my lips.
I giggle. Fucking giggle .
This man has transformed me into a horny, giddy mess with his sweet declarations and all-consuming kisses.
I roll my pelvis, earning a throaty groan when the underside of his cock drags over my clit.
“ You kissed me.”
The world turns upside down as he flips us, with me plastered to his front.
“And now I’m going to cuddle you. Sleep well, my little witch.” He tucks my head under his chin and sighs.
“I don’t cuddle, Dimples .” I attempt to wriggle from his clutches with no luck.
“ Free me.”
“Shhh, I’m sleeping.” His drowsy words blow through my hair.
Not even three minutes later, he’s snoring, arms locked around my lower back like a straitjacket.
Giggling. Cuddling .
I don’t dare ask what’s next.
Because what if I like it?