Chapter 20. Front-Row Seat of a Damn Hot Show
CHAPTER 20
Front-Row Seat of a Damn Hot Show
Since we were going away for the weekend, I worked overtime on Thursday to check items off my To-Do List. I still had two weeks to make sure that everything was in place before the grand opening, but I didn’t want to worry about anything while I was gone.
My phone trilled, bursting my concentration. A crisp, businesslike voice greeted me from the other end. “Ellie Pang? This is Carmel, Jacqueline Goodwin’s assistant.”
“Hi, Carmel. How can I help?”
“Ms. Goodwin would like to place some orders for a party. I had a look at your social media pages, and I understand you make custom-decorated cookies. Do we have to come up with a design, or can you supply us with one?”
A sliver of guilt briefly cut through me, because Jacqui was being so kind, but here I was, deceiving her and letting her think I was Alec’s girlfriend. She had been nothing but supportive, and I should be ashamed for taking advantage of that.
No. This was business. Nothing personal.
“I can design one for her.” I went back into professional mode. This was our first big order, and there would be lots of important, well-connected people at her party. This was my chance to impress. I shifted the phone to my right hand as I grabbed a pad and a pen, poised to take notes. “Is there a theme that Jac—Ms. Goodwin would prefer?”
“Yes. I’ll email you a list of things we’d like to order, including specific requests to incorporate in the designs. The party is on the first weekend of April. Does that work for you?”
I nearly crapped my pants. That wasn’t too far away. “Absolutely,” I said, portraying a confidence I didn’t feel. “We have plenty of time.”
“Excellent. I’ll go ahead and send the email. Let me know if you’ve got any questions.”
The minute she hung up, I tapped my inbox open and refreshed it every few seconds, until her email whooshed in a few minutes later. They wanted five dozen each of the dark chocolate cronuts, peanut butter cupcakes, mini baked cheesecakes, and red velvet brownies. On top of that, they’d also ordered five hundred cookies in the shape of birthday cakes, champagne flutes, and wine bottles. It took me a few minutes to read and reread Carmel’s email, making sure I wasn’t imagining things. If the rough calculation I ran in my head was correct, the order would add up to almost six thousand dollars. It could cover my expenses for the first few weeks.
My face breaking into an excited grin, I let out a loud whoop and jumped up to do a happy dance. Someone believed in me, and trusted me with their important event, and my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest, because I was finally living my dream.
With a thousand things running through my head, I tapped open my list-maker app and started a new to-do list for Jacqui’s party. I had so many things to do in such a tight timeframe, and I couldn’t afford to mess up. But the longer the list grew, the more neurotic my thoughts became. Self-doubt crept in, sending those thoughts snowballing further and catapulting me into a tizz of panic. What if I couldn’t pull it off? What if I screwed up my first big order, and business became so bad that we’d have to shut down within the first few weeks?
Then my mother would have the last laugh.
And I couldn’t let that happen.
Taking a deep breath, I closed the list, and decided to do some baking to calm my overthinking brain. I went to the kitchen and preheated the oven, planning to make the peanut butter cheesecake brookies I’d promised Alec. I took out a mixing bowl and some low-carb cookie dough from the cabinet, then broke the dough rounds apart in a bowl. I added a couple of eggs and mixed it, then poured the batter into a pan.
Things had been going well so far, and I had my plans and my lists to guide me. Come hell or high water, I had to prove to my parents that I could survive without their constant interference. This had always been my dream, and now that I’d come this far, there was no turning back.
Failure was not an option.
In another bowl, I beat some cream cheese until it became fluffy, then added some no-added-sugar peanut butter into the mix. Once it was smooth, I spooned the cheesecake mixture over the cookie batter and spread it evenly, then set the timer on the oven.
I kept working, melting some organic dark chocolate chips and chopping up some peanuts for the top layer, while slowly feeling myself calm down, and all the doubts melting away. I counted to ten, pep-talked myself, and finally kicked the crippling self-doubt to the curb as I cut the brookies into rows of six by six.
I can do this.
Everything would be just fine.
The house was dark and quiet when I got home. I stored the box of brookies in the fridge, left a note for Alec on the kitchen counter, then headed up to my room. Tossing my phone and bag on top of the dresser, I decided that a relaxing bubble bath was just what I needed to end the long day. Taking off my pump and grubby clothes, I wrapped myself in a towel, then padded out to the guest bathroom.
The spare bathroom was spacious and bright, with large windows and modern white furnishings. On the left side was a glass-walled shower, while the bathtub was hidden in a corner nook at the right side, which I headed straight for when I walked in. I ran the bath, dropping jasmine bath salts in it, then turned off the lights, letting the moonlight shine through the windows. I slipped in and let out a long, relieved breath, relishing the soothing feel of the warm, fragrant water quietly lapping around my body.
A few minutes later, there was the faintest sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs. I could hear Alec’s footsteps on the staircase, followed by the firm click of his bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, letting the tension of the day slowly ebb away.
My eyes snapped open as the handle of the bathroom door suddenly rattled, and I belatedly realized it wasn’t locked. I’d never needed a reason to lock it—Alec had his own bathroom, so this one was practically mine.
But the next second, the man himself strolled in.
While unbuttoning and stripping off his white shirt.
My breath caught in my throat, and I silently sank lower into the bubbly water, with only my eyes peeking out. He flicked on the lights, then hung his shirt on the towel ladder, not noticing me. I was holding my breath, trying to stay very, very still, and very, very quiet. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, horrified yet fascinated, as he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, letting them drop to the floor. He had his back to me, presenting me with the amazing sight of his perfect ass, his black boxers snugly hugging it.
Instead of a relaxing bubble bath, I had a front-row seat to an impromptu striptease. By my ridiculously gorgeous fucking hot fake boyfriend.
The polite thing to do would be to close my eyes. Or yell out to announce my presence. Probably both. But I wasn’t feeling very polite right now, so instead, I resurfaced and craned my neck to get a better look. And anyway, it was undoubtedly way, way too late. Should have said something the minute he walked into the bathroom. I’d just wait this out—it would be over in a few minutes.
Then he slipped out of those snug boxers, and my heart nearly stopped.
With his back facing me, he stepped into the shower, still oblivious that I was hidden in the corner bathtub, unable to take my eyes off him. Turning the faucet on, he drenched himself under the stream of hot water, before picking up my shampoo bottle, sniffing it, then squeezing out a generous amount. His hands worked methodically, kneading and massaging the shampoo all over his hair. Next, he pumped out blobs of my soap onto his hands, rubbing them together before lathering it all over his body. First on his neck, then on his arms, then on his back, followed by his chest.
This wasn’t just your normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill striptease. It was a real-life porn movie, and I was enjoying it too much to tear my gaze away. He stretched his neck, trying to get water onto his left side, and turned around, giving me a full-length, uncensored, breathtaking view of a gloriously naked Alec.
So. Very. Naked.
His hands kept working, rubbing the soap on his stomach, then down his thighs, all around his legs and backside, making showering look so sexy like it was nobody’s business.
That was when my mouth decided to betray my brain, producing a low, breathy sigh I’d never, ever heard before in my whole life, alerting him to my presence. Startled, he looked up and locked eyes with mine.
Wet, naked Alec Mackenzie caught me watching him rub soap all over his body.
My breath hitched, before stopping for a few seconds. Maybe even a few hours, for all I knew. If I died right now, it would entirely be his fault, no two ways about it. The coroner should rule out foul play, but they’d probably announce that my cause of death was a rare but deadly combination of prolonged breathing difficulty and striptease-induced extreme arousal.
What a way to go, though.
My only regret was that I wouldn’t have the chance to say my goodbyes to Eric, Naomi, Kim, and Jenna. Make amends with my parents. Or update my will. Run a marathon, float in the Dead Sea, build white picket fences and live happily ever after, the list goes on.
But back to the more pressing matters at hand.
Alec had stilled, his eyes slowly widening, his hands paused between his legs. Swallowing, I forced myself to blink, debating my next move. But before I could decide, his eyes turned darker, and his hands started moving again. My eyes followed them as he deliberately and slowly lathered more soap all over himself: his chest, his abs, then back between his legs, where a part of him stood up to attention.
Wet, naked Alec Mackenzie got hard watching me watching him rub soap all over his body.
I had never, ever been so turned on in my whole life. If I could fan myself, I would.
He took his sweet time rinsing the soap off, a seductive smile teasing the corners of his mouth. Reaching behind him to turn off the water, he stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist, never once breaking eye contact with me. Then he strolled over and kneeled at the side of the bath, casually propping his dripping wet arm on the edge of the bathtub, his face only inches away from mine.
“I hope you enjoyed that.” His voice, rough as gravel, rumbled in my ear. I shivered, as if he’d touched and caressed every single inch of my bare skin. Dropping his eyes to my mouth, he gave me one last sizzling look before standing up. “I sure as hell did.”
Fuuuuuccckkkk.
He walked out without another word, and I let out a long, ragged breath. My heart had made a huge, nonstop ruckus throughout Alec’s performance, and it was a miracle I had survived the earth-shattering act.
The bath water had turned cold, but I wasn’t going to risk getting out of the bathroom now. I’d wait until he was safely tucked in his room, maybe even stay here until next week, if the situation called for it. I could Uber some takeaway food so I wouldn’t starve.
But while waiting, there was nothing wrong with replaying those red-hot moments on repeat, right? I wasn’t even going to overanalyze his words, because I was already teetering on a precariously slippery slope, in danger of plummeting headfirst into a dark, bottomless abyss, crushing my head—and my heart—with no way up.
A long time later, when I’d been sufficiently pruned, finally confident it was safe to go out, I rinsed the bath and reached for my towel.
Only to find that it was missing.
Alec had taken the only freaking towel in this bathroom.
Panic threatened to overtake me. There was nothing else I could use to dry off and cover myself. The only items that would even be remotely useful were a mediocre-sized facecloth, a soggy bath mat, and his old shirt and pants. The facecloth barely covered my face, the bath mat was out of the question, so that left me with two lousy options: (a) slipping on his old shirt; or (b) sprinting stark naked to my room while praying nobody ( him ) caught me.
All the points in the pros column were overwhelmingly in favor of the shirt, so I gingerly slipped it on. It smelled of citrus and spice and him, and against my better judgment, I lifted the collar to my nose, inhaling his scent. After doing the top two buttons, just enough to cover the run to my room, I opened the door and peeked outside.
Silence. The coast was clear. It’s go time.
Tiptoeing out, I quietly closed the door behind me, then made a dash for it, breathing a sigh of relief when I reached the safety of my room. I was about to turn my door handle when a voice startled me from behind.
“My shower broke this morning.”
I froze, practically turning into a human statue. He must have possessed stealthy, ninja-like abilities, because I didn’t even hear him approach.
“Thought the spare bathroom was empty. Lights were off, shower wasn’t running.”
I slowly turned around, my breath hitching when I saw him, fully clothed, wearing those glasses. My damp towel was slung over his shoulder, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Imagine my surprise. There you were, watching me getting turned on.”
I was having difficulty breathing again.
Alec slowly sauntered toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. He stopped right in front of me, making me hyper-aware of my still-wet body, molded to his soaked white shirt. My brain sternly instructed my mouth to say something, anything , but I was incapable of forming a logical thought, let alone a sentence.
“I think you’ve got something of mine.” His voice, low and husky, made goosebumps pop all over my skin. “And I think,” he went on, his hands reaching out to undo those two flimsy buttons, “I’d like it back.”
My skin felt like it was ablaze, every nerve ending on my body screaming and begging for him to touch me. I sucked in a breath when his fingers skimmed my shoulders, easing the shirt off, letting it drop to the floor. The shivers weren’t from the cool air on my skin, but from his warm skin on mine. And because I was now standing stark naked in front of him while his gaze roamed all over me, feasting, the hunger in his eyes palpable.
“You’re beautiful.” His voice was gruff. “Perfect.”
My brain was frantic, waving the Stay on Track Plan while yelling loudly through a bullhorn. He’s interested in someone else. STEP AWAY FROM THE MAN RIGHT NOW!
“We can’t.”
There was confusion in his hooded eyes. “Why?”
“You. Like. Someone. Else,” I whispered, my mouth struggling to get the words out.
Alec stared at me, his clouded eyes fighting an internal battle. “I don’t,” he finally said, as his hands took their time draping the towel around me, grazing my arms and shoulders, sending a raging inferno throughout my body, all the way to my toes.
I sucked in a breath. “What… do you mean?”
His fingers curled, tucking the ends of the towel. “There’s no one else.”
“But… all those late-night phone calls,” I croaked out. “You said you’re interested in someone else… you had your eyes on another girl. Your potential girlfriend. The one that you’re taking things slow with. That cute brunette…”
“I don’t know which brunette you’re talking about.” He skimmed one feather-light finger, a whisper of a touch at the top of my cleavage, and I suppressed a shiver. “There’s no brunette. There’s no one else. I was talking about you. It was always you, Ellie.”
That’s it. I was done for. Fire—or very likely, madness—flew through my veins. I caught his hand while untucking the towel with my other hand, letting it tumble to the floor.
Alec hissed a breath. “What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, I pulled him closer, pressing his body to mine.
His eyes burned hotter than molten lava. He looked like he was holding on to the final shred of his self-control, those eyes asking me, Are you sure?
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Let me be very clear.” His voice was low, throaty. “I’m about to kiss you. And once I start, I won’t be able to stop. If you don’t want that to happen, you better tell me right now.”
My answer was to grasp his other hand and place it over my chest.
That last bit of control in his eyes snapped. With a loud groan, he crushed his mouth onto mine, pushing me against my bedroom door. I slipped my hands under his T-shirt, touching him everywhere, humming with pleasure when I felt him growing harder against my stomach. One of his hands stroked and worshipped my breast, while the other hand— oh God, the other hand —mercilessly teased me down there.
This was unreal. Beyond my wildest fantasies. I was naked against my bedroom door, and an eager participant in a frenzied make-out session with my fake boyfriend, like a couple of horny teenagers. All I had to do was reach behind me, turn the handle, and we could be on my bed within seconds.
So I did.
We tumbled onto the bed, his mouth on mine, our hands all over each other. My brain was fogged with lust, wanting—needing—more of him. I peeled off his T-shirt, desperate to feel his skin on mine. There was no finesse, just hunger, and I shuddered when the hard shape under his shorts nudged me. A hoarse groan escaped him as I arched my hips, shamelessly grinding against his solid length, begging him for more.
Then, of course, my phone had to choose that very moment to sing out.
“Ignore it,” I mumbled against his mouth, my hands busy exploring his body.
“You feel so good.” His clever lips pressed kisses on my jaw and my neck, tracing a path down to my breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, licking and lapping attention at it. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, as the rest of my body perked up in gleeful anticipation.
But the phone didn’t care that I was about to have the best sex of my life. It kept on ringing, as if us ignoring it made it even more determined to get noticed. It stopped for all of two seconds before starting its next round of melodies.
“Turn it off.” His tongue did something mind-blowing on my breast.
“Mmmh.” I shuddered. “Good idea.”
It took every ounce of my willpower to pull away, because the sight of him worshipping every inch of my body would be enough to make a lesser woman succumb to temptation. Groping around the sheets, I finally found my phone on the bedside table, with the sole focus of turning it off, pronto.
Everything screeched to a halt when I saw my mother’s face flashing on the screen.
This was the first time she’d called since I left home. What does she want?
Rejecting the call, I switched the phone off, then turned back to Alec to resume where we’d left off. But it was too late. Because he’d seen it, too. His face had turned pale, and he stopped whatever dirty, delicious things he was doing.
“Hey,” I whispered, my hands gently caressing his face. “You okay?”
He jumped a little, then grabbed his discarded T-shirt from the floor. Straightening up, he slipped it back on, while wearing a flustered look in his eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
My mouth gaped open. Ten seconds ago, this man had his lips around one of my nipples. I was on the bed right now, lying naked before him, and that was what he chose to say?
Whatever the hell happened to his intense “ once I start, I won’t be able to stop ”?
I was perplexed, stumped, and mortified. “What?” Pulling the blanket, I hastily wrapped it around myself. “A little too late for that, don’t you think?”
“I’m sorry. That should never have happened.” He covered his face with his hands. “What was I thinking?”
Anger and embarrassment rushed through me. Twice in my lifetime I’d given him my heart on a silver platter—this time, my body, too—and both times he’d rejected me.
That was two times too many.
“I don’t understand,” I said, my lips pursed tightly. “I thought we both wanted this.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Yes. I do. But I can’t. We can’t. I promised.”
“Promised who?” A neuron snapped inside my brain. “Eric? Forget about it. I’m absolving you of that promise. You’re no longer under any obligation. Is that all?”
“That should never have happened,” he repeated. He backed away, moving toward the door. “I should go. We have a long day tomorrow.”
Without looking back, he rushed out of the room while I sat on the bed, covered with my blanket and shame. Then the humiliation faded into nothingness, replaced by indignation and rage. I was seething, furious at him, but more than anything, I was angry at myself.
Hadn’t I known this was going to happen? That letting myself fall for him again would lead me to nothing but grief and heartbreak? Sure, he was being an asshole, but I had nobody to blame but myself. I’d known this was in the cards, but I still let my feelings for him dictate my thoughts, my words, my actions , like that na?ve eighteen-year-old teenager that I had once been.
Getting up to get dressed, I made a vow: I’d grit my teeth and do everything in my power to get through this weekend, because I’d already promised to go. But the minute we got back from the GPG trip, I was moving out of his house as fast as humanly possible.
And then Alec Mackenzie could go to hell.