5. Sophie
CHAPTER 5
Sophie
A lex’s breath hit my lips and I melted into his lovely warm grip around my waist.
Kissing him was far better than hating him and more pleasant than avoiding him. Not that tonight had been anything like the hours we’d spent in the childish battle of who was to blame for the fender bender.
“Should we go back to the lodge?” Alex asked, stepping away. He reached for my elbow and smoothed his palm down to my wrist.
"Yes," I muttered softly, embracing the fuzziness in my head that felt less like a cloud impeding my judgment and more like a veil lifting. Everything was crystal clear. I wanted this. At this moment, under the stars, with Alex inches from me, I wanted all of this. Who cared about tomorrow's regrets?
It was minutes later when the shuttle dropped us off at the lodge. Fingers interlaced with his, giggling until my stomach hurt, I let Alex lead the way to his room. When we got to his door, the keycard gripped in his hand, he turned to me. “Are you sure you’re fine with—”
"Sshh," I hushed, pressing my lips to his. I may not have been completely sober, but the wine wasn't the sole reason for the slight buzz in my head.
Alex was intoxicating.
Everything about him I wanted, and I was sure that even if I got him, it wouldn’t be enough.
The door clicked open, and we both stumbled inside.
Before I even had time to study his room, he flattened me against the wall and kissed me again, harder this time, his teeth skating across my top lip, forcing it open before his tongue slipped in.
A guttural moan left my throat.
I wanted him so bad it almost hurt as if my body was one huge nerve and every possible signal was traveling at the exact same time.
One of his hands moved to brace against the wall and the other pressed on my lower back, his touch so hot I whimpered. With shaky fingers, I reached for Alex’s shirt, eager to tug it off, to feel his skin against mine, but my hands felt numb and clumsy and instead fell to his waistband. His right hand swept up my neck, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw and then curling in my hair, holding my head.
He broke the kiss and locked my gaze with his. “I’m still shocked the shuttle driver gave in and brought us back to the lodge.”
He was gorgeous. Those broody eyes that glared golden, those cheekbones that could slice a balloon, that faint dimple in his chin.
“You’re great at persuading people, Alex. Must be a gift.”
He smiled and tipped my mouth up with two fingers while I leaned into him, closing the space between our lips once again.
Everything felt excruciatingly slow, as if time had slowed down and we could only move with an eighth of the speed we were used to. I raked my fingers through his hair at the same time his teeth caught my bottom lip. Soft groans emanated from his throat.
It was only when he guided me away from the wall, toward the bed––identical to the one in my room, a king-sized bed with olive green pillows—that things began to speed up. It was as if the TV program had finally been taken off pause, and the characters on the screen bounced back to life.
“We can stop,” he breathed when the back of my knees hit the mattress. But his hands were tracing down the sides of my body, stopping briefly and then starting up again, as if he was fighting and losing whatever battle was going on in his head.
Maybe if I hadn’t had three glasses of wine, I would’ve stepped back and said, “You’re right, Alex. We should stop, this is a bad idea,” or maybe my decision would have remained the same, unaffected by the wine running through my veins. I wanted this, I wanted him.
Alex's mouth was back on mine, his tongue exploring, searching, while his fingers fumbled with the zip of my dress. When the dress came off, I literally exhaled, relieved, as if it was bondage holding me hostage.
Alex chuckled, probably because I was smiling dumbly, and gathered me in his arms again, his fingers reaching for my bra strap, which he undid surprisingly quickly.
Who knew how often he slept with women he didn’t know? I pushed that thought away and instead concentrated on his hands. They were running down my waist, his thumbs lost to the swell of my hips.
"Fuck, Sophie. You're beautiful," he said, his eyes exploring every bit of me. The way Alex looked at me now, right this moment, showered me with a strange sense of relief as if I'd waited my entire life for Alex Roberts to wow me at a seminar and gawk at me as if I was the most stunning creature that ever existed.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I murmured as heat crept to my cheeks.
When his shirt was off and his pants too, leaving only a pair of boxer briefs on, Alex pulled me to him again. I could feel his arousal against my leg. Heck, I could see it too. But it was much too hard to concentrate when the fingers of his right hand caught my nipples, pinching and massaging, shooting fireworks along every area of my body that he had either touched or was busy touching.
“You’re really good with your hands,” I moaned, my lips pressed against his neck, right above the dip between his collarbone. “Are all orthos this good?”
“Not all,” Alex chuckled, guiding me onto the bed.
When I was on my back, he slipped his fingers beneath the lace fabric of my panties, and I lifted my hips to help him tug them off. Before I knew what he was planning, he dropped to his knees, gripped my shins, and pulled my body down so easily it could've been made from paper.
His head was suddenly between my thighs, tongue out, and when he stroked the length of me, his breath hot on my core, I moaned loudly. Too loudly perhaps, but it didn’t deter him. Alex only cupped my hips harder as his tongue dove deeper and wrecked me from the inside.
A pressure rose up beneath my ribs and moved all the way down my stomach, settling between my thighs. It was a hungry pressure, desperate to be satisfied, and as fantastic as his tongue was, I wanted Alex inside of me.
“Up here,” I muttered under my breath while my fingers tugged at the strands of his hair.
Alex tilted his head up and gave the cheekiest of smiles, and then I dug my fingers into his shoulders and lifted him over me. He crawled up until our stomachs met.
I opened my legs, shifting them up for Alex to move inside of me, and gasped loudly when he did. He pushed deeper into me, slowly at first and, when my body released, he sped up.
There was a brief moment where it felt like we were missing something, something major, but then Alex kissed me so deeply, his hand pressing up against my left breast, squeezing tenderly, and I forgot all about that thought.
It drifted away like a paper boat on a swooshing stream of rainwater.
His mouth was on my neck, his hips pounding against mine while I groaned and whimpered. He spun me around, flipping us over until he was on his back and then he pushed into me again, his hands skating over my stomach and around to the small of my back, his fingertips tracing my spine.
We kept going like that. I was riding Alex, rocking my hips against his as he pounded harder into me, his hands indecisive on where they wanted to be, moving from my hips up to my back and sliding forward to my breasts.
That lovely pinch from earlier swelled like a balloon and when Alex thrust harder, faster, and deeper all at once, I unraveled, every thread holding me up falling away. He came a moment later and, when I collapsed beside him—the mattress so soft and cozy—I imagined sleeping, or more so, I welcomed it.
Alex turned onto his side, crossed his legs, and draped an arm over my stomach. “I did not expect this when I crashed into the back of your car.”
“So, you admit it was your fault?”
He laughed and fell back, still keeping his arm draped over me.
The brightest light shone through my closed eyelids.
Blinking, I opened them slowly and winced. My head was pounding like someone was driving a jackhammer right through the center. Not to mention my stomach was roiling and the stale remnant of wine coated my tongue and teeth.
Pressing my hand to my forehead, I looked to the balcony. Sheer curtains blew in the breeze and the rush of water sat somewhere in the background. A shower perhaps— I suddenly froze. Everything from last night came back in a torrent of images. The restaurant; flirting with Alex; that first touch; that last one. It all came back so fast that I felt sick.
I had sex with Alex. I’m the idiot who had sex with an orthopedic surgeon at a medical seminar. The same surgeon who crashed into my car.
Sitting up, I scanned the room. It was identical to mine, but it wasn’t mine. It was too tidy. In the far right-hand corner, where a chair was pushed up against the wall, were a pair of Oxford shoes and a suit draped neatly over the back.
Was that the same suit Alex had worn last night?
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, well aware that I was still completely naked, I bent down to pick up my panties and bra when something nagged at me. Something about last night that I should’ve remembered. And then, out of nowhere, it hit me like an avalanche. For the second time in a space of two minutes, my body tensed so fiercely I could feel the muscles pull tight in my neck.
We hadn’t used a condom. Why the hell hadn’t we used a condom?
And then I remembered Alex and his soft lips and the way he had cupped my breast, his thumb flicking my nipple—I couldn’t remember when last anyone had touched me that generously—and I’d been so distracted, so absorbed . . . And a little drunk.
It was fine. No problem.
Weren’t there like five fertile days in every month? I had my period just the other day. I wasn’t at risk. It was all fine. Nothing to worry about.
The rush of water suddenly stopped. A glass door opened, and then I could hear Alex cough and my heart went into overdrive.
Last night was a mistake. It didn’t matter how good it felt, how good Alex was. It didn’t matter that I enjoyed talking to him, laughing with him, or that behind that serious first impression was a man who joked, who smiled, who probably had a good heart.
I was the problem. I wasn’t the type of woman who had one-night stands at fancy lodges, especially when I should’ve been the upstanding physical therapist my boss wanted me to be, needed me to be. Besides, I wasn’t the casual type. I needed days, weeks of getting to know someone before I even dared to climb into bed with them.
Last night wasn’t like me at all. Last night I’d become an infatuated, drunk, possibly giddy version of myself, and I was sure I’d spend weeks trying to forget she ever existed.
I quickly shrugged my dress on, found my heels beneath the dresser, and tiptoed to the door. I opened it softly while I kept an ear to the bathroom. Alex was brushing his teeth. Good. It gave me more than enough time to get out of here—not just this room but the lodge itself, the seminar.
And that was exactly what I did.