Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Olivia
When Alexander walks in, I’m watching from a table in the corner.
It’s been hours since he left my office. I tried to refocus on work, but it was impossible.
Every time I’m in the same room with him, my resolve melts a little.
He may be arrogant, but he’s charming.
From where I’m sitting it looks like he’s charming a smile out of the red-haired woman who complained incessantly that her order wasn’t made to her exact liking.
He holds the door open for her as she exits, calling after her that he hopes she has a great night.
I smile inwardly, waiting for the moment when his eyes lock on mine.
He rakes a hand through his hair as he scans the interior of this quaint tea shop.
The jeans he had on earlier are now paired with a black sweater instead of the blue dress shirt he wore to my office.
He looks casual and elegant.
When he finally spots me, I wave my hand in the air to signal him over. He points to the counter as if to ask if I want anything.
I hold up the cup of tea that I ordered when I arrived twenty minutes ago.
He nods, approaching the female barista. He says something to her that makes her face light up.
I glance down at the white plastic table I’m sitting next to. I don’t blame her for grinning at him like that. He’s a gorgeous man with a bare ring finger.
He exudes a level of raw masculinity that I’ve never experienced before. I instantly wonder if the barista senses it too.
“Olivia Hull, you’re full of surprises.”
I look up to find Alexander standing next to the table. “I thought we’d indulge in a good bottle of wine or beer. Earl Grey would be proud of us both.”
His order is the same as mine. It’s a medium cup of tea.
“I like to think outside the box.” I motion for him to sit across from me. “Did you have any trouble finding this place?”
He looks around the eclectic shop. The walls are covered with orange paint and pink shelves which are home to a collection of antique teacups and saucers.
I consider it a Manhattan treasure. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall places that only local and loyal customers frequent.
“I’ve been here before.”
The admission surprises me enough that it catches my breath. “You’ve been here?”
“Many times. I like the tea.” He raises his cup in the air. “We have more in common than you think.”
I laugh that away with a wave of my hand. “You’re a conductor. I work in lingerie…”
“Stop right there.” He leans back in his chair. “You work in lingerie as in you wear Liore lingerie to work?”
My pulse thrums. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“But you do,” he says boldly. “You’re wearing Liore lingerie now.”
I glance down at the red sweater and jeans I’m wearing. The large white scarf around my neck covers any hint of the skin on my chest.
“What color, Olivia?”
I sip my tea, ignoring the question.
He persists. “White lace? Black satin?”
“Pink.”
He growls. A literal growl curls off his tongue. “Fuck.”
“Lace,” I say softly.
“Goddammit,” he rasps. “Show me.”
I laugh. “No.”
“Show me,” he repeats. “It can be the top of your bra. The strap. Hell, I’m game if you strip right here and let me see it all.”
I glance over his shoulder at two women leaving. There are only a handful of people left. None of them are glancing in our direction.
“Give me something to remember tonight by.” A sexy grin takes over his mouth.
I close my eyes briefly, wondering if I’m doing this because of the half glass of wine I had earlier with Kate.
When I open them, his expression has shifted to pure desire. Lust dances in his blue eyes.
I slowly unwrap the scarf from my neck, carefully tugging it free before I let it fall to my lap.
His eyes drop to the skin of my chest and the v that dives between my breasts.
I inch forward, slip my hand down the smooth skin of my neck, and then lower until it’s resting between my breasts. I slide it under the left side of my sweater and pull the material back just a touch.
I look down at the faintest hint of pink lace.
“There’s something we need to discuss, Olivia.” His voice is low, thick and filled with the same need I feel within me.
“We will soon,” I say as I drop my hand. “Soon, Alexander.”
Sliding back on his chair, his jaw tenses. “It can’t be soon enough.”
“Do your panties match your bra?” He asks as we stand on the sidewalk outside my building. We walked the three blocks from the tea shop. He insisted. I didn’t argue.
I shake my head as I wrap the scarf tighter around my neck. “I’m not showing you my panties.”
“Yet, Alexander,” he finishes the sentence. “Yet.”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” I point out with a finger push to the center of his chest.
In one swift movement, my hand is in his, resting against his chest. “You are thinking it.”
I am. I think about it more and more.
I thought about it while we had our tea and he talked about an upcoming performance of the symphony. I listened to every word he spoke with rapt attention.
His voice is mesmerizing. As he was explaining about the cadence of the music and the intensity of the string section, I drifted into thoughts of what he must sound like during sex.
The deep, ragged breaths he would take, the grunts, the growl that might escape when he comes. I focused on all of that while he smiled through a one-sided discussion about classical music.
“I’m thinking about the fact that I need to be in my office bright and early tomorrow so I should get to bed.”
“I can take you,” he offers with a lift of one brow.
A grin spreads over my lips. “That’s not up for discussion tonight.”
He steps closer to me. His hands leap to my scarf, untying it slowly until it’s hanging loosely around my neck.
“Is a kiss?” His voice is a deep rasp.
My tongue darts out to slick my bottom lip in anticipation. “A kiss?”
“Let me show you,” he whispers.
I close my eyes when I feel his lips crash into mine. His hand moves to the back of my neck, the other drops to my hip. He pulls me into him as he kisses me deeply, tenderly and in a way I’ve never been kissed before.