by Geneva Lee
“Food and champagne.” Alexander held his hands out in surrender, but then he crossed them over his chest and looked me up and down. “But then I’m going to have my way with you.”
A shiver raced up my spine. “Promise?”
“I promise that you’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon screaming my name.”
My knees buckled a little at the thought and his hand shot out to steady me, his smug grin spreading to a full-blown smile. The effect was dazzling with his straight white teeth and movie star good looks, and I couldn’t help but think of those lips and the things they were capable of.
“You’re testing my resolve, poppet,” Alexander said.
I blinked and stared at him. I was testing his resolve? He had to know the effect he had on me. It was written all over my face—and my body.
“Standing there, biting your lip, with your hair down. I give you ten seconds to get out of here or I’m taking you back to bed.”
I squealed and scampered away, closing the bathroom door behind me. My heart pounded at Alexander’s promise and the remembrance of what he’d already done to me. Catching my reflection in my mirror, I studied it for a second. My breasts hung loose, still swollen with arousal, my nipples beading tightly at the thought of Alexander. But I refused to let my focus linger on my body. Instead, I counted to ten and forced my gaze up. My liner had smudged a little, giving my eyes a smoky touch. It was kind of sexy, especially in combination with my wavy, loose hair and kissed-pink lips. Between my legs I felt the slick proof that I wasn’t just dreaming. The girl in the mirror looked like a total sexpot. It wasn’t a side I’d ever seen in myself, but I had to admit I liked it.
The hotel bathroom was stocked with more than the average shampoo and conditioner. It was practically a small convenience store, and inside the medicine cabinet, I found a package of hair ties. I tugged my messy hair off my neck, piling it onto my head, wanting to keep the sexy, just-bedded look I was rocking.
But when I stepped into the hot shower, I felt lonely. Whatever had prompted Alexander to refuse to remove his shirt in bed also kept him from joining me in here. I thought about this as I ran soap across my body and washed between my legs. Of course, that’s why he didn’t want to shower with me, removing his shirt would have been unavoidable, which meant that it wasn’t just a measure of intimacy—he was hiding something. But what? Every bit of him that I’d seen up until now was stunning. His body literally left me breathless from my desire to touch him. I’d been too hurt at the time to see the harsh rejection for what it really was: fear. I understood body issues better than most though, and I knew better than to push it. Maybe in time, he wouldn’t feel the need to hide from me.
I found myself hoping he would. But I shook the thought from my head as I rinsed the last of the soap off my body and turned off the water. I didn’t need to get attached to Alexander. This was supposed to be casual. I had other things to worry about—like my new job and settling into life in London. There wasn’t time for me to get involved with someone, especially not someone as complicated as Alexander. We were both looking for a good time, and if we were going to make that happen, I had to set aside my curiosity.
Tying a soft robe around me, I discovered the room service had already arrived. Alexander lounged in his shirt and shorts in the living room, his feet propped on the coffee table. A cart, crammed with dishes and glasses and a bottle of champagne, was parked next to his chair.
“Did you order everything on the menu?” I asked.
“Personally, I worked up an appetite,” he said with a shrug, “but if you need to work on your own, I still want to screw you against that window.”
I held up a hand. “Stop. I’m famished but maybe after?”
Alexander’s eyes sparkled as he nodded. “You continue to surprise me, Clara Bishop. One minute you’re running away from me and the next—”
“You have my panties off in a lift?” I finished for him. “Be honest, this isn’t the first time a girl has dropped her knickers for you.”
“Well, no,” he admitted. “But you hardly dropped them. That reminds me that I need to buy you another pair.”
I waved off his offer nonchalantly even as heat pooled low in my belly at the memory. Where had he stashed my panties when he ripped them from me? From the wicked gleam in Alexander’s eyes, he was thinking about the same thing. I bee-lined to the room service cart in an attempt to stay focused. It wasn’t healthy to screw like bunnies without eating for hours. To my surprise, I lifted the silver lids to discover two hamburgers, French fries, and small but fancy bottles of ketchup.
“I hope it’s okay,” Alexander said, coming up behind me. He gripped my hips with his firm hands and peeked over my shoulder. “You aren’t a vegan or something? I haven’t mortally offended you?”
“It’s fine,” I said, twisting to face him. “I love meat.”
It took me a second to realize what I’d said, but from the close contact of his body, I could tell his cock got the message much faster.
“Tell me more,” he breathed.
“After we eat,” I said, ducking from his grasp and grabbing a plate. “I had no idea the Royal Family ate things like hamburgers.”
“Oh yes, usually it’s only crown roast and leg of lamb and mint jelly.” His words were covered in thick coating of bitter amusement. “Actually, my family dinners are terrible. Stiff. Too many courses. Too many forks. Someone’s always picking a fight, usually me. Maybe that’s why I skip so many of them.”
I’d just taken a bite of my burger but I had to do my best not to choke on it. Alexander was opening up to me. I swallowed hard on my food, suddenly more interested in learning about the mystery man in front of me than in what I was eating. “I can relate to that.”
“Ah yes. Your parents are web entrepreneurs,” he said. “Lots of dinners alone?”
I lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Checking up on me?”
“I was interested, and if I have to spend my whole life in the public eye, I might as well enjoy the perks of my position.” He joined me on the couch. The whole thing felt so normal, except for the revelation he’d just sprung on me.
“Translation: it’s okay for you to spy on me.”
Alexander laughed. “It was not nearly so clandestine. You probably learned more about me on the internet than I did from MI5 files.”
“I have an MI5 file?”
“Not really. Hence why I didn’t learn much. I wanted to know how the pretty American girl wound up at a boring British graduation party,” he admitted.
“I’m not American. Not really.”
“That did catch my attention,” he admitted, taking a bite of his food and chewing it quickly. “You chose British citizenship. You could have chosen dual citizenship. Why?”
I hesitated at the question, uncertain how to answer. “There’s nothing for me in America.”
Nothing good, I added silently.
“That sounds like a story.”
“How about you?” I asked, deflecting the attention back to him. It was better if my past stayed put. Neither of us gained anything from bringing it up.
“I’m an open book. You only have to go as far as the nearest tabloid to learn everything you need to know about me.”
I wasn’t buying that for a second. The gossip columns might make educated guesses about Alexander and his personal life, but as someone who’d spent a little bit of time with him in private, I knew they hadn’t even scratched the surface of what he was really like. And despite my firsthand experience with him, I knew I hadn’t either. The thought scared me as much as it excited me. “I doubt that. Tabloids seem to think rumors are facts, after all.”
“Yes, they do.” Alexander set his plate down and stood up, moving to look out the window. “What do you want to know, Clara?”
“What will you tell me?”
He flashed me a humorless smile before he turned back to stare out over London. “Nothing. I’ll tell you nothing you want t
o know. I’ll crack a joke or distract you with a kiss.”
The honesty of his answer struck me like a blow and I couldn’t respond. The pain in his voice was palpable. It lived and breathed as much as the sexy, broken man in front of me. But his directness couldn’t tell me the one thing I ached to know: what had broken him?
It was the only way to know if I could fix him.
“You’ll like me better if you believe the tabloid headlines,” he added after a long silence.
The air was so heavy between us now that I thought it might crack the room in half, separating us forever. I couldn’t let that happen. “Even the one that claimed you had an orgy at Brimstone last month?”
“Wouldn’t you rather believe that one was true?” he asked, and to my relief, he smiled. “It promises inhuman stamina.”
I already knew he had inhuman stamina. “I will admit I don’t like the idea of you screwing a whole room full of women.”
“Ahhh. The jealous type?”
I’d never been the jealous type, and I found it to be a big turn-off after my screwed up relationship with Daniel. But the thought of Alexander with another woman twisted my insides. I couldn’t exactly tell him that though. It sounded too crazy after the short amount of time we’d spent together, and I guessed Alexander had dealt with his fair share of crazy over the years. “How would you feel if I screwed a room full of men?”
His hand flew out, striking the window and making me flinch. “Touché, poppet. But I should warn you I’m not good at sharing.”
“No doubt that comes from never having to share much as a child.”
“More than I would have liked,” he said darkly, advancing toward me. His face was unreadable, cast in shadows. “While I’m fucking you, no one else will. Do you understand?”
My mouth fell open, but I shut it again. Setting down my plate, I stood so that we were on an equal level. “Is that an order?”
“You didn’t seem to mind my orders earlier.” His finger pushed between the layers of my robe and probed my stomach. “You liked being told what to do.”
“In bed,” I said, stepping away from him. I sensed a fight coming on and I couldn’t think clearly when he was touching me. “I don’t like being ordered around.”
“I wouldn’t dream of ordering you around outside the bedroom, Clara.” He tilted his head and studied me for a moment. “But asking you not to sleep with other men seems to be on point, no?”
“Am I allowed to sleep with other women?” I asked.
“No, but that’s an interesting idea.”
“Okay, down boy.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m just trying to prove that you’re being irrational.”
“It’s not irrational,” he said, grabbing the tie of my robe and yanking it so that it fell open. His gaze burned into me, and my nerves crackled, smoldering with desire. He wasn’t going to fight fair. “I have many things I plan to do to this body. I want to take my time with it. I need to, so I’m not interested in playing games. If you want to be with me, I expect loyalty.”
He stepped closer and slipped a hand between my legs. I choked back a whimper of pleasure at his touch and forced myself to keep eye contact with him.
“I have no issue with exclusivity, but you don’t do relationships,” I reminded him.
“I don’t court. I’m not looking for romance or marriage. I want to fuck you, Clara. I want to make you come, and I want your perfect cunt to be mine exclusively.” He’d begun to probe my seam with his long, powerful fingers. It was enough to make me dizzy, but I fought to maintain control. Reaching out, I gripped his cock through his shorts. It was rock hard and so very thick, and I fought the urge to drop to my knees in front of him. “This is mine then.”
Alexander’s lips twitched and I felt his cock pulse in my hands. He pressed against me, thrusting his cock fully into my grasp. “It’s all yours, Clara.”
His lips found mine then, kissing me until I no longer cared about what I’d really wanted to know: how long? How long was he mine?
It didn’t matter. A week with him was more than I could ever ask for, and as his fingers slipped inside me, fucking me toward another earth-shattering climax, I pushed the question completely out of my mind.
I was on my stomach, buck naked and fantasizing about Alexander’s hands kneading much more intimate parts of my body, when a text alert buzzed on my phone, which sat on a chair in the corner. My masseuse, Tyrone, clicked his tongue disapprovingly over the interruption.
“You’re all tense now, girl,” Tyrone chastised me. “Relax.”
I tried to, but after last weekend, there was only one man my body obeyed. I focused on the new age music drifting through the room and slipped back to my fantasies. When I pried my deliciously limp body from the table at the end of the session, I grabbed my phone, surprised to see the text I’d received was from Alexander.
There’s a window in this room that would benefit from having your naked body spread across it.
I fumbled as I typed a response, half dizzy from my near comatose state. The fact that I could hear the sexy rasp of Alexander’s voice in my head reading the message didn’t help.
After I was dressed, I stepped into the hall to discover my mother waiting for me. She looped her arm through mine and sighed. “Wasn’t that wonderful? I didn’t even know I was so tense.”
“Me either,” I said.
“Are you ready to shop?” she asked.
I nodded, stifling the urge to groan. I was going to need another massage after spending the day shopping under my mother’s critical eye. Pocketing my phone, I smiled at her. “Lead the way.”
A few hours and a small fortune later, we stopped to meet my sister for lunch. The afternoon crowd at Hillgrove’s consisted mostly of ladies who lunch, like my mother, and a few tourists who were busy snapping pictures of their high tea sandwich assortment. My mother gave them a distasteful look, adjusting the brim of her Stephen Jones hat while we waited for my younger sister to join us. Our shopping bags were piled on an empty seat and Mom had taken the liberty of ordering already. Just as she had taken the liberty of choosing a dozen new dresses for me. I’d managed to convince her to let me pay, and I’d even gone so far as to buy a few pairs of heels. Although I wasn’t likely to get much use wearing them around the office of Peters & Clarkwell, but since my social life had taken a surprising upturn last Friday, I knew I’d have plenty of opportunities to wear them.
I hadn’t even fought her when she thrust a selection of short, sexy dresses at me in Yves St. Laurent.
“I’m so glad you picked up some new things,” she said, sipping a martini. Most of the women here were drinking out of teacups, but Mom was on her first cocktail. It was the little things that showed she was American still, whether she liked it or not.
“I want to make a good impression at my new job.” I shrugged as if this was perfectly obvious. I didn’t tell her that at least half of the things I’d purchased I planned to wear for Alexander. I kept this to myself not only because I wasn’t ready to tell her I was seeing him, but also because I wasn’t sure how long the relationship would last. Alexander and I had struck a tenuous agreement—one I wasn’t entirely comfortable with—and I didn’t think my mom would understand that I was screwing him with no commitment on his part. Exclusivity meant nothing to her if it wasn’t coupled with a diamond on the finger.
“And you’ll look fabulous on dates,” she said.
“Sorry I’m late!” My sister Charlotte said, arriving in time to save me from Mom’s curiosity regarding my love life. She flashed us a winning smile as she dropped her purse on the floor and took a seat.
Dressed in a sleeveless cream-colored shell that hung loosely over black leggings, Charlotte looked as if she’d stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine. The ensemble might have been plain on someone without her eye for style, but she’d paired it with a chic, yellow scarf and gold studs. She pushed her large, movie star sunglasses up to hold back the dark hair that waved over
her shoulders.
“How was your meeting, Lola?” our mother asked, calling her by her pet name.
“Fine. Over.” Lola shot me a conspiratorial wink, and I did my best not to groan. I’d had no doubt that her sudden scheduling conflict had more to do with sleeping off a late night than the cushy summer internship she’d landed at a marketing firm in Chelsea.
“We’re just glad you’re here now.” Mom patted her arm.
“What did I miss?” Lola asked.
“I was telling Mom about my new job.”
Lola blinked, the smile still plastered on her face. “Oh.”
My mother didn’t seem to notice Lola’s obvious lack of interest. She smiled broadly as the waiter brought a selection of tea sandwiches to us on a tall tray. Picking one up, she bit into it delicately. “But I was really curious about whether Clara is seeing anyone.”
There was a slight break in her voice, which gave away her true feelings. I had to give her credit, she’d managed to avoid bringing up the recent scandal I’d been involved in the whole morning. That had to be some kind of record. But with Lola here, I’d expected the subject to come up sooner rather than later. I considered her question, taking a large bite of a cucumber sandwich to buy me some time. If I continued to see Alexander, it was very likely I’d find myself on the cover of another gossip rag. But Alexander was being discreet about our relationship, and there was no reason to suspect anyone might find out if we continued our cloak and dagger routine. Plus, we had Norris. Alexander had made it clear that our relationship wasn’t going further than dating and sex. If there was no future, why should I tell her? I ignored the flutter of anxiety that thought produced in my stomach.
“No,” I lied. “Although Belle has her sights on every single man she knows.”
“Annabelle is a good friend,” Mom said. “You’re so lucky to have her.”
Actually, I was lucky to have her around, even if my mother didn’t know the real reason. Belle was such a good friend because it meant I didn’t have to hide my true relationship to her. She wasn’t going to tell anyone, but it also meant I didn’t have to put up with her blind dates.
