16. Alex
16
ALEX
I need coffee in the worst way.
My lips curl with displeasure at the mug of water in my hand.
Nope. Not going to cut it.
The sun has broken through the clouds, shining down on an agitated ocean. Shards of light twinkle through the breakfast room like crystals. I could get used to this. The quiet. The stillness. The company.
The soft pad of footsteps draws my attention from the killer view.
Katherine’s still wearing my spare t-shirt and not much else. My gut tightens, and my cock twitches.
Her dark strawberry-blonde hair is wild around her shoulders. Call me weird, but I loved watching her undo the pins last night. Seeing that perfect hairdo fall down into a riot of curls and swirls was one of the most erotic things I’ve ever witnessed. Damn. I’d love to shove my hands in her hair and kiss the hell out of her.
Her pretty eyes lock on me, and her luscious mouth pulls up in a sleepy smile. Thank goodness she wasn’t freaked out about waking up in my arms. I wasn’t going to deny her. . . or myself.
Not when I’ve dreamed of it for so long.
Not only had she not been freaked out, she’d snuggled closer and gone back to sleep for another hour before rolling away. It’s a good thing she’s a solid sleeper because there was no hiding what having her body tucked against mine did to me.
“Does he always sleep like the dead?” she murmurs, joining me at the window.
Without the benefit of those fuck-me-harder high heels, she’s a tiny thing, needing to tip her head back to look me in the eye. I don’t even care that the first thing out of her mouth is about Gabe.
Odd. But when she looks at me like that, so openly curious and not the least bit shy, god, my shoulders drop and my tension eases.
What did she ask? Right. Does Gabe normally sleep so well?
I shake my head. “Never.”
It shocked me Gabe got into the bed at all. I figured he would make an excuse and sit up, playing on his phone until the battery died. But to find him still sleeping when I woke this morning. . . I watched him in the dim light to make sure he was still breathing.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
No kidding.
I glance across the topsy-turvy house toward the main bedroom. “I don’t think he’s slept a full night since before college.”
Her gasp is soft and musical and deeply empathetic. In the quiet light of the morning, her true colors shine. She glances toward the bedroom and then back at me. “Really?”
I nod.
“How is he still sane?” she muses, wrapping her arms around her waist. There’s so much emotion in that one question. Confusion, concern, mirth, and maybe I’m imagining it, but admiration? Could she be impressed by the man who’s enjoyed picking at her these last few years?
I shrug and take a sip from my mug. “He says he’ll sleep when he’s dead.”
She huffs a little laugh and stares out the window.
That sound reaches deep inside me, warming me to the depths of my soul. It was the first thing I ever noticed about her.
I attend a lot of events, and most of them are terribly dull. Filled with pompous assholes and cocky douchecanoes. That night had started like so many of the others—tepid food, too much cheap champagne, and fake smiles.
Out of nowhere, I heard this joyful and completely genuine laugh. It reached across space and time to snag my attention. Hold it. It delighted me and left me painfully curious.
I’d immediately severed a conversation and turned.
And that’s when I saw Katie Bird. Enchanting the crowd around her in a glittering black dress. Head tossed back. All those dark gold curls curving around naked shoulders. She’d grabbed her friend’s arm to hold herself steady. Together, they were stunning, but more than that, their good humor was infectious.
That was the moment I realized I’d been letting work take over everything. My world had become black-and-white monotony. And Katherine Montgomery was a crayon box full of color.
I’ve got it bad for a girl I have no business wanting. She should be with some young It guy closer to her own age. Not a grumpy old bodyguard turned CEO.
But that’s the thing. She makes me forget all the darkness in my life. No, that’s not right. I haven’t forgotten it. It’s still lurking, but she brightens every space she enters.
Gabe calls her an ice queen. But to me, she’s a phoenix .
“That’s what Ford says.”
“Your brother?” Let’s be honest, I’ve memorized a lot of her family tree after what happened with Gabe and her grandfather, Henry Chanler.
She shoots me a pleased look over her shoulder. Damn, if I don’t want to see that again and again. Earn her smiles. Another laugh from my Katie Bird might split me wide open.
Whoa. My Katie Bird?—
“Yeah.” Her lips curve up further, and my heart stumbles. “He’s all about living life in the fast lane. Talks about wanting to skid into his grave sideways, thinking, ‘Man, what a ride.’”
I knew I liked Ford. How those two turned out so well with such an overbearing, viper of a mother is beyond me.
Outside, the rain has refreshed everything. The colors are brighter, beckoning. I can see why Gabe likes this property. There’s an inlet to the east and a nice distance to the neighboring property on the west. Plenty of lawn for a game of touch football and terracing for a party. But the ocean view is the real draw.
I could stand here sunrise-to-sunset with this woman, watching the waves, the clouds, the seagulls. Would she like that? Or is she antsy to get back to the city?
“This place is incredible. I understand why he bought it,” she says .
I grunt. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
She grins up at me before leaning closer to the window.
I’m used to being on the same wavelength as Gabe. We’ve known each other for almost twenty years. But this is new. Feeling so connected to someone other than my best friend.
Unguarded, casual Katherine Montgomery is potent AF. And she’s sexy as pure sin in my t-shirt. I’m dying to know what’s beneath. Aching to slide my hands up those lush thighs, pushing the material higher and higher until?—
“Thank you. For last night.” She turns, light blue-green eyes boring into mine, the view forgotten.
In the light of day, she seems much more confident than the woman who was knocked off her axis last night. Her features are almost delicate, and there’s the lightest dusting of freckles across her nose. Rosey lips, even without makeup, and damn, if they don’t make me want to sweep her into my arms and kiss them.
“You’re welcome.”
She presses a palm over her heart. Is it my imagination or does she lean closer?
“I promise I’m not usually that much of a mess.”
I get the impression that she wants me to agree with her. To see her as the collected, capable woman she usually is. But we all have cracks in our armor. She’s no different because no matter what others call her, she’s human.
“I didn’t want to be up there in the first place,” she confides softly.
Pleasure spears through me. It’s a tiny thing, this small show of trust. I want to know all her secrets, and this is just the start. But then her words sink in.
She didn’t want to be in the auction?
Interesting. “Why’d you sign up?”
“I didn’t.” Her upper lip curls slightly. It’s so fast I almost wonder if I imagined it. “My mother signed me up.”
The censure in her tone is unmistakable.
“And I’m guessing you didn’t ask her to.”
She shakes her head. “I told her not to. But she never listens to me. I don’t know why I thought she’d start now. Silly of me,” she murmurs like she’s talking to herself.
So there’s bad blood between mother and daughter. I’m guessing that blood was boiling last night.
That familiar prickle tingles along the back of my neck. It’s the sixth sense I’ve learned to trust over the years. There’s a story here, something to pay attention to.
“I’m sorry if we made it worse for you,” I say, shoving my free hand into my pocket.
I’m not sure I’d change anything, though, even knowing what I do. She’d been exquisite on that stage. And I’d wanted her .
I wanted to claim her and for everyone in that room to know it. The possessiveness roars in my chest even now, and it’s hard to keep my hands to myself when I’m so tempted to reach for her. To touch her. To feel her against me again. Her soft skin, the thump of her pulse. I’ve got to play my cards right because I can’t spook her.
Katherine Montgomery is the type of woman you only get one shot with.
She shakes her head, and all that gorgeous hair shimmies around her shoulders. “I was glad someone was bidding. For a minute there, I thought it was going to be crickets.”
It’s my turn to huff a laugh. “Not a chance.”
“You’re kind to say that.”
She glances out at the ocean again, almost as if she’s embarrassed. Or shy. How can she not understand her lure? Has she really had so little interest? That seems unlikely. Does she not believe my interest is real? Sincere?
Fuck that.
I can’t have her doubting herself.
Or me.
Or how much I want her.
“It’s not kindness, Katherine.” I turn toward her.
She purses her lips. “Wha—what happened to Katie Bird?”
“Katie Bird. ”
Her lips curve. She likes having a nickname. It makes me wish I could give her a thousand.
I cup her cheek.
I shouldn’t. I should back away, but I can’t. She’s like an inescapable magnet. And I can’t stop hearing her voice in my head.
Not yet.
Not. Yet.
Last night, that little piss-ant Tyler thought Katherine was screwing me and Gabe. And she’d leveled him flat with a beautifully timed ‘Not yet.’
I shouldn’t let that go to my head. Or my heart. Or my dick. But I do.
Hope bubbles in my chest.
Let her go, Hunt.
I shouldn’t want her to feel this wild connection between us. To crave me like I do her. Is it too much to ask that she fall for someone so out of her league? Someone thirteen years older than her?
I groan, dipping my head, inhaling her. She doesn’t back down, doesn’t shy away. No, one hand clasps my wrist and the other slides to my waist. Her skin is cool against mine.
My gut tightens. I’ve never wanted to feel anyone’s lips against mine the way I do hers.
“Alex—”
My name is a plea I feel all the way to my soul.
What is happening ?
Her fingers flex against my skin, and I put the mug on the table next to me. This requires both hands. I don’t want to miss a thing. Don’t want her to think my attention is anywhere but on her.
I slide my free hand around her waist, pulling her closer. She leans into the circle of my arms like she’s been waiting to be there. And damn, do I love her close. Safe. No shadows of fear and anxiety in her eyes.
Just raw desire.
For me.
“Katie Bird. . . Tell me to stop,” I whisper.
Trailing my thumb over her cheek, I give her a chance to back away. To sever the connection. To be stronger than me. But everything in me hopes she doesn’t.
“No.” She gives a single, slow shake of her head.
My chest puffs up, and excitement seeps through my veins.
There’s no mistaking her acceptance. Or the flare of need in those eyes as her gaze drops to my lips. Her palms slide up my chest, leaving fire in their wake.
I dip my head, watching her lashes shutter and her chin lift. Her eagerness is a punch to the gut. I brush my lips against hers once. Twice.
How the hell does she keep her lips that soft?
We moan, and I smile. And then I’m a goner. Losing myself .
She returns kiss for kiss. Her breath fans against my cheek, and I tease the seam of her lips with my tongue. She makes an adorable whimpering sound and parts them for me, welcoming me inside the wet recess of her mouth.
Damn, she’s hot. Melting in my arms.
She skates those nimble fingers up over my shoulders and then grazes my scalp with her nails. My hips punch forward, and she laughs, the sound spearing me through the heart as true as Cupid’s arrow.
Her hips move against me, and her breasts press tight to my chest. My beautiful little wanton. She pulls back a fraction and snags my lower lip between hers. I growl, and she laughs again. Then she’s kissing me. Open-mouthed, tongue thrusting against my own. Hot. Wet. Needy.
It takes all my willpower to not press her against the window and slide my hands beneath the hem of her shirt. It’d be so easy to answer the question of what she has on underneath. So. Easy. Because this woman wants me. There’s not a doubt in my mind that she craves my touch just as much as I crave hers.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Groaning, I lift my head.
“Wha—” Her lips are swollen, and her eyes dart around, confused.
I squeeze her hip to let her know I still want her, still want the connection between us and that I hate to step away from her. But it’s probably for the best. Because no woman has ever brought me this close to losing my head.
“That’ll be our coffee.”