Chapter 11 – Alana
Chapter
Eleven
ALANA
It is late by the time Alejandro finally arrives home that night.
I wander down the hallway so that I can be waiting for him when he walks through the door.
I’m still feeling anxious about my visit to the doctor’s office earlier.
What if there is something wrong with me?
Will he still want me if I can’t give him a child?
I know that he loves me, but what if this makes him see me differently?
We’ve discussed our future, and he told me I’d make a great mom. He said he couldn’t wait to have little Montoyas running around. And what about his family? His father will want an heir to the Montoya legacy, and I know his mom would dote on grandchildren. What if I’m letting everybody down?
I’m in turmoil, stressed, and trying not to show it. No man wants to be greeted by a crying woman when he gets home from a busy day at work.
He smiles when he walks through the door and sees me waiting for him. “Buenos noches, princesa.” He pulls me into his arms. “Did you miss me?” He doesn’t give me time to answer before he seals his mouth over mine.
I snake my hands around his neck, melting into his embrace. “I always miss you,” I reply when he lets me up for air.
His smile quickly turns to a frown. “Is there something wrong?”
He’s so in tune with my emotions, and I should have known he’d sense the anxiety in me. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
He takes hold of my hand, worry filling his dark eyes. “What is it?”
“How about we get a drink?”
His dark eyes narrow on my face. “And you’ll tell me what’s bothering you?”
I nod my agreement and together we walk down the hallway toward his study.
Alejandro pours us each a glass of Scotch, and I take a seat while he perches on the edge of his desk.
I can’t help but notice how tired he looks tonight.
He’s been working so hard and seems to have been having trouble sleeping lately, so I feel guilty for bothering him with my problems when he obviously has much more important things on his mind.
“So, tell me what’s distressing you?” he asks, his voice rich and soothing. He sounds concerned, and that makes me feel even worse, even more anxious and guilty.
What’s the point in worrying him when I don’t know if there’s anything to worry about yet. “It can wait until tomorrow. You look tired. Let’s finish these and go to bed?” I suggest instead.
He places his glass on the desk, his scrutinous gaze not leaving my face for a second.
“I’m not tired, princesa. I’m busy. And I will most definitely be taking you to bed when we’ve finished our Scotch.
But, before that, I want to know what’s troubling you.
Nothing about my work is more important than you, so talk to me. ”
He leans forward, brushes his knuckles over my cheekbone, and his kindness is what almost undoes me.
I feel my lip wobble, but I tell myself I’m being silly and take a deep breath.
Then I take a swig of the Scotch and I tell him all about my visit to Dr. Kelly earlier.
I tell him everything she said, and I tell him how worried I am now that there might be something wrong with me.
He listens intently, sipping his whisky as he does, dark eyes not leaving mine for a moment, never interrupting
When I’ve finished talking, I fidget with the hem of my dress as I wait what feels like an eternity for him to respond.
“Ven aquí,” he says, his voice a low rumble. Come here.
He takes my hand, pulling me up from the chair and into his arms. I cling to him, desperate for comfort. “There is nothing wrong with you. Doctors like to run tests. They’re always looking for problems. That’s their thing.”
“I know, but what if…”
“Then we’ll deal with it, Alana. Together. Whatever comes our way, we’ll deal with it. It took my mom two years to get pregnant with me.”
I look up at him. I didn’t know that, and I’m so grateful he told me. Sad for her that she went through that, but it all worked out in the end. He brushes the hair back from my face and cups my chin with his hand, dusting his lips briefly over mine. “It will happen when it happens.”
It is such a simple thing to say, but it means the world to me. I burrow my face against his chest and breathe in the familiar comforting scent of him. He’s right. Everything will be okay. “Thank you.”
He strokes my hair. “For what?”
“For making me feel better.”
“That’s what I’m here for. And I’m sure we have nothing to worry about. Besides,” his voice goes lower, vibrating through his chest and into mine. “What’s the rush when we’re having so much fun trying?”
True. Instinctively, I rub against him, finding him hard already, and it’s the perfect distraction for my lingering worries. “Maybe we should try right now,” I suggest.
He groans. “You read my mind.” His hand slips beneath my dress and between my thighs. Quickly, he travels higher, his fingers brushing over my panties. My legs part for him of their own accord, and he pulls the delicate lace fabric to one side.
Sliding his skilled fingers through my wet center, he hisses out a breath. “So. Fucking. Wet.” Then he presses his mouth against mine, pushing his tongue and his fingers inside me at the same time, causing jolts of pleasure to course through my body like electric currents.
I kiss him back with fervor. He tastes of whiskey and fire and everything that I need. My hands run through his thick dark hair as he devours me. “Alex,” I groan into his mouth.
He works his fingers deeper, curling them inside me until he hits that perfect spot and I coat him in a rush of heat.
“Fuck, Alana,” he grunts, working me harder. “I need you to come for me, princesa, and then I’m going to nail you to this desk.”
His dirty talk is always enough to have me a trembling mess, and when he brushes my clit with his thumb, circling the nub of flesh with the perfect amount of pressure, I cry out his name as my climax bursts through me.
He kisses and rubs me through it, and as soon as my legs have stopped trembling, he spins me around and bends me over his desk in one fluid movement.
The familiar sound of his belt and zipper opening has me aching for him.
He always knows exactly what I need, when I need it.
He presses one of his strong hands between my shoulder blades, pushing me against the mahogany while he pulls my dress up to my waist with the other.
I wait, breathless with anticipation while he pulls my panties down to my knees.
“Are you ready to be fucked, Alana?”
“Yes,” I pant out.
“Yes what?” he teases as he presses the crown of his cock against my opening.
“Yes, please,” I beg, shameless now.
“Buena chica,” he growls as he slams into me.
He leans over me, lips resting against my ear. “You have no idea how much I love fucking you.” Then he slips into Spanish as he loses himself in me, nailing me to his desk until I forget all of my worries and anxieties about my trip to the doctor earlier.