Chapter Fifteen
Claire
Jen burst in on us again, and I resisted the urge to punch her in the face.
“Oh, you two already done?” she asked, arching a suggestive eyebrow at us.
“We can talk at my place,” Alexander said to me, and I wondered what was left to say before realizing he was offering me a way out, a chance to get away from her for a little while.
And given the increasingly violent direction my thoughts were taking…
maybe it was a good idea.
“Sure.” Why did I agree?
And why did the room feel small, hot, like his gaze was crowding out everything else?
Together, we made our way to his car, and I noticed his security team following.
I’d had a feeling they were still watching me, but they were good at blending in.
Maybe that was the point.
Back at his place, I stepped through the front door.
Every time I told myself it would be the last time I’d see the place, it wasn’t.
It was stupid of me to agree to come back here, to be alone with him again.
“Thank you,” I said.
“It’s getting harder not to slap her silly.”
“I was only around her for a few minutes and I wanted to slap her.” A slight grin on his lips softened something inside me.
I didn’t dare let the feeling spread.
My heart said what my mind couldn’t admit: I was happy he’d taken me away from Jen, though I knew I shouldn’t be.
Then, he was unreadable and closed-off once again, yet the intensity behind his eyes burned right through me.
My chest felt tight, my heart ready to gallop away.
How could someone so cold make me feel this way?
“Why did you agree to this?” He’d spoken, but his eyes stayed fixed on me, daring me to find an answer.
Because you looked at me like I was the last person on earth, I wanted to say.
But those words choked in my throat, too foolish and too true to voice.
I didn’t know how to tell him that his attention made me feel alive in a way I never let myself want.
“To escape Jen, I guess,” I said, avoiding the hunger in his eyes.
“Why did you ask?”
He didn’t reply.
But his silence wasn’t a rejection.
It was a challenge, sharp and intoxicating.
My body tingled, my mind rushing in circles as I tried to understand the warmth spreading through my chest.
Oh, my gosh, he hadn’t just invited me here to get away from Jen.
And he didn’t believe that’s why I’d come.
And why did his total rejection of Jen make me feel like I’d won something I shouldn’t even want and had no claim to?
“Alone once more,” Alexander said, his voice a low rumble that made my pulse quicken as he settled on the arm of the couch.
I couldn’t tell if he was relieved or resigned.
“Yeah.” My voice came out breathy, too eager.
I fought to control it as I chose a different seat, far away from him.
“Here we are.”
“Here we are,” he echoed, his expression unreadable.
I wanted to ask if he brought me here to fill the silence, to distract himself, to make another woman jealous – because, let’s be real, he’s Alexander Reed.
He surely had a list of ladies lined up and waiting their turn.
My instincts screamed that there was no pretense, this was a chance for me to unwind so I didn’t catch a charge for assaulting my sister.
But my heart betrayed me, wanting it to be more.
Wanting it to be about us.
He closed the distance between us, and the heat of his body sent my logic skittering away.
“Why are you pretending to care?” My voice trembled on the edge of defiance.
“You’re going to give me whiplash.”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he kissed me.
Harder than before, more urgent, as if words had no place here.
Stunned, I almost froze.
Except my lips moved with his, my head tilting to let him in deeper.
My resolve melted, dissolved by the rush of his touch.
He tasted like home.
I was breathless when he pulled back, his eyes scanning my face as though he were searching for the truth beneath.
“This isn’t real,” I said, trying to believe it.
But he kissed me again, and I didn’t have the will to resist. He was pulling me under, into a world where desire overruled every logical defense.
I found my hands on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, wanting to feel him without barriers.
His muscles tensed beneath my touch, and the sharp exhale from his lips told me he felt it too.
I was losing myself and finding myself in the way he moved against me.
My feet backed up of their own accord, guiding us through the penthouse.
A soft thud as I hit the edge of the bed.
Before I could gather my thoughts, Alexander lifted me, laid me down, his weight warm and relentless above me.
This time when he kissed me, it was gentler, more deliberate, like he was savoring the taste of his victory.
And oh, it felt like victory, surrender, and everything in between.
I arched against him, needing more, my mind a fog of urgency and need.
The way his hips rocked into me left me delirious and begging for more.
“Are you sure you want this?” His breath was hot against my neck, his voice rough, cautious.
No , my mind said. Yes , my body screamed.
Yes, yes, yes .
“Yes,” I said, meaning the word.
I expected him to rush, to take, but instead, he explored, each touch setting me on fire.
My shirt was gone, then my pants.
His hands found my skin, sending shivers down to my core.
I writhed beneath him, letting go of everything but the feel of him, the truth of him.
I tugged at his pants, clumsy, desperate.
He helped me, kicking them aside.
The sight of him above me, powerful and exposed, made my heart stutter.
His lips claimed mine, and his hand moved lower, between my legs, teasing, coaxing.
The first touch had me gasping, arching into, clutching at his shoulders like I’d drown without him.
He slid a finger in me, and the world blurred around the edges.
“So wet, good girl,” he growled, pulling his hand back.
I let out a whimper, but he returned, slipping two into me.
Letting out another whimper, I bit down on my lower lip.
His palm pressed to my body, and I bucked against his hand, the sensations exquisite, new, overwhelming.
He was relentless, his mouth on my throat, my breasts, each whisper of contact making me tremble.
I didn’t know this side of him, this patient intensity, and it swept me away, filled me until I thought I might burst.
“God, Claire,” he murmured, more to himself than to me, his voice almost a growl.
“You’re so…”
He didn’t finish the thought, and I didn’t need him to.
The heat in his eyes told me what he wouldn’t say.
Not that it mattered, I was beyond hearing, lost in the way he touched me, teased me, brought out feelings and desires I didn’t know I could experience.
And when it all fell apart, he was right there, holding me close.
Not leaving. Riding it out with me, demanding I look at him.
I did, seeing all the heat and hunger in his eyes.
I could see how hard it was for him to hold back, yet here he was, making sure I enjoyed this, enjoyed him.
Those weren’t the actions of a businessman, were they?
The pleasure consumed me, swallowing me whole, and when I came back to earth, he was there.
His breath hitched as he looked at me, all of me.
I felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way he stared made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
He moved over me, the hard length of him pressing against my core.
My breath caught at the size of him, and a sliver of doubt pierced the haze of desire.
Did he forget?
“Just relax,” he said, soft but insistent, the edge of command in his voice.
I tried to, but the anticipation, the need was too much.
He pushed inside, stretching me, filling me, making me gasp at the hot, sweet sensation of it.
“Fuck, yes.” He growled the words, clearly holding back with effort as if to let my body adjust to him.
I whimpered beneath him, consumed with the sensation of him sliding within me, then holding still a moment, the pleasure.
I felt him throbbing inside me, and the reality of it, the realness of it all, made me shudder.
“More,” I begged, surprising myself, surprising him, as his eyes flared with something that might have been shock or admiration or something else entirely.
He moved, deep and sure, and I was lost, utterly, wonderfully lost.
“That’s it,” he said, his breath ragged, kissing me hard.
“You feel so… so damn good.”
Each thrust brought stars to the edges of my vision.
I clung to him, dug my nails into his back, drew him closer, deeper, a rhythm that I matched, then outpaced with my hips.
I flipped him, surprising us both, and straddled him, took control, rode him like I didn’t care if I broke, as long as it was with him, for him.
“Look at you.” His hands cupped my breasts, his fingers tugging at my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through me.
“Taking me. Wanting this. God, Claire.”
His hands gripped my waist, urging me on, faster, and I went.
I was reckless, reckless and right, the world tightening and narrowing and exploding in one exquisite release.
It was a release that left me shuddering, unable to move, almost frozen in place.
I cried out, his name on my lips, his name on my heart.
He rolled us over, pulled all the way out, then buried himself inside me, buried everything but the surety of this moment.
“I want you,” he said, and I didn’t know if it was now, or before, or always, but I believed him.
“I’ve wanted you since the beginning.”
My breath shattered in my chest as I came, the sensation flooding me, flooding him, until the world dissolved and rebuilt itself around us.
And in the middle of it all, I knew.
I loved him.
I loved Alexander Reed.
My husband. The man taking my innocence and everything else I’d been afraid to give.
Screw the contract. Screw the risk.
I wanted him for real, and I didn’t care how much it would hurt when he didn’t want me back.
He gasped, a deep, guttural sound, and thrust one last time, holding, filling me in every possible way.
“God, Claire,” he said, collapsing against me, his skin slick with sweat, his chest heaving against mine.
We lay there, entangled, breathless, and I knew the next words would crush me.
I was ready to hear them, already rehearsing my own exit.
But they didn’t come.
Instead:
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
“Yes,” I said, shocked by the honesty of it.
I was. I really was.
But he rolled off me anyway, on his side, looking at me like he couldn’t believe what he saw.
The heat in my face betrayed me, and the rest of reality crashed back in.
But I refused to think this was a mistake.
Even if he did.
I shouldn’t have felt this way, wrapped in his warmth, wrapped in the illusion that this man loved me.
Alexander's breath against my neck, the tight circle of his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest—they all told a story I knew wasn’t true. But oh, how easily I let myself fall into it.
The warmth of his skin bled into me, an unfamiliar sense of safety and comfort, a dream that threatened to convince me. I closed my eyes, let myself sink into him, let my heart take over just once. We felt real.
I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so safe, so needed. It would have been easy to move, to shake off the warmth of him, the quiet of the room, to stop pretending. Instead, I let myself be wrapped in the softness of rest and the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, wrapped in him.
Blinking, I tried to remember where I was in the dark, why my skin felt so sensitive, why I felt heat beside me. Then warmth flooded my cheeks as it all came flooding back.
Alexander was still sleeping, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it, his body a dangerous comfort, a terrible temptation. I wanted him again. Was that normal?
And how was I supposed to leave? I laid there, taking in the impossibility of this man and this moment, knowing the longer I stayed, the more it would hurt when he finally let me go. It was so hard to move, his breathing steady against my neck, his arm heavy, binding me to him and to a fantasy I wanted too much. But I needed to slip away, without waking him. It was better this way. It had to be.
The sheets were warm, twisted around our bodies like a promise. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend. I could imagine waking him with a kiss, his eyes opening to see me, really see me.
But that wasn’t us. That wasn’t this.
I untangled myself, each movement precise and quiet, like dismantling a bomb that might go off at any moment.
His arm slipped away, leaving me cold and bare to the reality I didn’t want to face. The bed creaked as I stood, but he looked peaceful, his features more handsome than ever, somehow, his arm tightening around the blanket in leu of me, the kind of gentle I was afraid to believe.
This was exactly why I needed to leave. I’d felt safe, cherished, loved even, but none of it was real. I needed to go.
But God, I wanted to stay.
My phone was on the nightstand. No calls. No texts. The rest of the world moving on, unaware that everything had changed for me in the blink of an eye. Well, not that fast, I thought with a blush.
I didn’t leave a note. What was there to say? Thanks for taking my V-card, see ya never! Signed with a smiley face? I didn’t think so. Besides, I couldn’t linger, knowing that one soft sound or stray gasp might wake him. That maybe he’d ask me to stay. No way that would happen.
I slipped out, heart pounding, guilt creeping in even though I knew this was for the best.
The elevator ride down felt like descending into the reality I’d tried so hard to avoid. The cold, unfeeling metal matched the chill I was trying to build around my heart.
It was better this way. It had to be.
Outside, the city was still waking up. I pulled my coat tighter, bracing against the wind and the emptiness. I ordered an Uber, the screen blurring for a second as I blinked away the rush of emotion.
I’d only let myself love him for one night.
But oh, how dangerous that love was.
Now he was out of my system and I could move on, right? After all, our contract was complete.
The car pulled up, the driver offering a distracted nod as I slid into the back seat. I breathed deeply, trying to steady myself.
Leave it behind, I thought. Leave him behind. It’s just the contract. Just the deal. You were never part of his plans, never more than a distraction.
But the memory of his warmth was relentless, weaving into my chest like hope. I tried to let logic take over, to barricade myself against the reckless way he made me feel.
This was for the best. It was better this way.
The driver asked if I’d had a good night. I hesitated, my heart too close to the surface, but finally nodded, forcing a smile.
How long could I lie to myself before the truth tore through my defenses? How long could I pretend before admitting that I didn’t want to give him up?
The car moved through the city, the buildings a blur, my thoughts a mess of longing and fear.
I caught my reflection in the window.
And there it was. That damn smile. Small. Barely there. But undeniable all the same.