Chapter 17 #2
Carol’s eyes brighten with delight. “Oh, we’ve heard so much about you.” She grasps my hand, sandwiching it between both of hers, glancing conspiratorially at Monica.
“We’re going out to dinner with a few colleagues after this,” Monica says. “Alex is coming. You should, too.”
Shame boils over me. Of all the outfits to throw on this morning, I had to choose this. “I’m not dressed for dinner.”
“Nonsense, you look darling,” Carol says.
Darling?
“We insist.” Monica’s tone doesn’t leave any room for negotiation. Reluctantly, I agree, and the two women head back to the thinning crowd around Alex.
I pull out my phone and send a text to my mother.
June: How’s Gram?
As much as I want to support Alex, if Gram is awake, I have to see her.
Mom: They just transferred her to a room. She’s still sleeping.
I guess that settles that.
A man with a bushy white beard slaps Alex on the back, then says, “We’ll see you at Il Regalo,” as he departs. He definitely doesn’t look like a Swiftie.
Ultimately, I think the best thing to do is Uber back to campus to get my car. That way I can spare Alex any unnecessary humiliation.
After the room has cleared, and it’s just the two of us, I stride to the front.
I’m about to tell him how amazing his presentation was and that I’m going to head out, but as I approach him, his eyes darken and he slips an arm around my waist. I gasp as he walks me backward, pinning me against the wall.
“I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you all night,” he says, brushing his nose along the edge of my jaw. “I was barely able to get through my slides.”
The words, coupled with the urgency in his touch, turn me into a puddle. A desperate, aching puddle of need.
“Alex …” My head tips back, and in an instant, his mouth is on mine. Fire rips up my spine as his hand splays across my back, his fingers digging into the fabric of my T-shirt. I claw at him, clutching fistfuls of his blue button-down before my legs give out from under me.
His other hand snakes up to cradle my jaw, and my hungry lips part under his.
We’re two sides of a coin—I’m chaotic and frenzied, my hands roaming over every inch of his toned chest and arms, scrambling for purchase.
In contrast, he has all the time in the world.
Every indulgent stroke of his tongue is a slow slide that threatens to unravel my sanity.
When I lace my fingers through his hair, his control snaps.
He grunts, trailing his hot lips and tongue down my neck, skimming his teeth over my skin.
A volt of electricity rips through me, eliciting a desperate moan.
It spurs him on and he nips harder, gliding his hands down my sides until they settle on my ass.
I want to tell him that we need to stop, but my entire body leans into his touch, pleading with him to keep going.
“We can’t,” I finally manage in a breathy whisper.
“Why not?” he asks, his lips brushing over my collarbone.
Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuck.
My fingers tighten in his hair and he groans in approval. It takes every ounce of self-control not to wrap my legs around his waist and mount him.
But we can’t. We have to go.
My hands slide down, finding his shoulders, and I give him a very reluctant nudge. Instantly, he lifts his head, pulling back.
His pupils are black pools with thin rings of amber and green. There’s a hunger in them that tells me he is absolutely going to devour me.
The sight weakens my knees.
But a slew of his colleagues—important ones—are expecting him at a fancy restaurant any minute.
“We have to go,” I try to say with as much conviction as possible. But the heat in his eyes obliterates my resolve.
“Do we?” He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, and my insides melt.
No. I slam my eyes shut. I know how important this is for him. How hard he’s worked to get here. I’m not going to let a heated moment ruin it. No matter how fucking hot it is. I push down my desire, my entire body screaming in protest.
“Yes.” I grab his hand and tug him toward the door.
“Fuck, you’re hot when you’re bossy.”
My thighs clench, but I force myself to keep walking.
There’s a welcome chill in the air when we leave the building. Thank god. It’s as close to a cold shower as I’ll get right now. I have no idea what the hell is happening between us, but I’m not complaining.
When we reach the car, he pins me against the passenger door. As much as I want to wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, I force myself to be strong and grab his face instead. “Not right now.”
His shoulders slump, but he nods. “Would you mind driving?” He rubs his neck. “I feel a little off.”
“Sure.” I study his features, worry needling my stomach.
While we were in the hospital with Gram, I spent most of the time reading all about diabetes.
And now, I can’t help but notice Alex is exhibiting similar symptoms—lightheadedness, excessive thirst. He kept saying how hungry he was in the car. Maybe I can gently broach the subject.
Alex hands me his keys, then climbs into the passenger seat. As soon as I get the car started, he lowers his window. The cool night breeze whips through, chilling me to the bone.
“Fuck, it’s hot in here,” he says, rifling his shirt to get more air.
“Have you had your blood sugar checked lately?” I blurt out.
Dammit, June.
So much for keeping my tone light.
His brow creases. “Yeah, I had a physical this summer before I left for Peru. Why?”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “Just wondering.”
“Hey …” He rubs my shoulder, and I turn to meet his gaze.
“Your grandma’s going to be okay. She’s tough.
And I don’t have diabetes. My blood sugar is fine.
” He swipes his hand over his dampened forehead.
“I just don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me tonight.
” His stomach makes a wild rumbling sound, like he may actually be under demonic possession.
“Um, are you—”
“I’m fucking starving,” he growls. “Can we go through In-N-Out?”
“Alex,” I say with a laugh. “We are literally going to a restaurant. A fancy one. Which I am completely underdressed for.” I check the rearview and wince. I don’t even have makeup on. “I’m going to look like an idiot.”
“You could never look like an idiot, even if you tried.” His intense stare sends heat coiling through me. “And trust me, you’re not underdressed.”
I level him with a skeptical glare.
“You’re wearing way too much.” He winks, and I swat his chest, then ease out of the parking lot.
As soon as we pick up speed, Alex sticks his arm out of the window, letting it coast through the gusts.
I head down Washington Boulevard, driving easily now that most of the traffic has cleared.
I glance at Alex, who has his sights laser locked on his hand, watching intently as it rides the waves of the wind.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was high.