“And let’s get something straight, Doctor. My name is Alex! A.L.E.X.”
He took a step toward me, leaving us significantly close. He lifted a lengthy finger and slid it across my left cheek before slowly lowering it across my bottom lip. We were standing so close that my breasts lightly grazed his chest. As much as I fought it, God, I wanted him touching me.
“First of all, Alexa, if I’m not mistaken, Alex is merely a nickname. I prefer to call you Alexa because it’s a beautiful name and it fits you perfectly. Secondly, I’d like to know exactly why you are here and why you choose to dress this way?”
His possessive words making my belly quiver, I pushed away from him, broadening the stretch of electrified clearance sparking between our bodies. His eyes narrowed, darkening even more than before, as he ran a model-perfect hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. My temper kicked in at his bluntness. He really was coming across as a Class-A asswipe.
But those hands. And lips. And that unforgettable bulge in his scrubs.
“Fine, Doctor,” I responded in retaliation. “Call me what you like, but I don’t have to tell you why I’m here and I certainly don’t owe you an explanation about the way I dress. Ever! Besides, why are you here? Oh! Right! You own the place. You make people beautiful by day, but after the sun sets, you tie up women on spanking benches and pull out the nipple clamps. Wow. Just freaking wow.” Sarcasm purposely dripping from my voice, I picked up my handbag and strapped it across my shoulder, staring at the closed door. Two could play this game of cat and mouse.
“I need to go,” I said, unsure if these feelings were anger, or something different. Put out with myself for stumbling around and acting so unpolished when he was thoroughly poised and confident.
“Just freaking wow, huh? And spanking and nipple clamps?” He rubbed a finger over his chin. His grin was now another full-blown smile. “Alexa, Justin is my best friend. The club is his. I only helped him finance the place. I’m nothing but a silent partner. Yet, your idea of combining nipple clamps with a spanking does sound quite enticing.”
My face heated. “Whatever. I’d like to get back to my friend now. Could you kindly do me the courtesy of helping me find her?” A quick turn of my heel, I caught the edge of the sofa foot, causing me to lose my balance. I was going to bust my ass. As I fought to keep from falling directly onto my face, a strong arm captured me around my mid-section, his oversized hand brushing across my butt. His long fingers rubbed over the waistband of my panties, strangely igniting something deep inside a place he wasn’t allowed. He looked into my face, his eyes narrowing as he attempted to fight laughing. He shook his head. “I’d be happy to return you to your friend, Alexa. But only when, and if, you finish your water.” Are all doctors this damn pushy?
The nerve of this guy! Who the hell did he think he was?
“Deal! But only if you agree to do surgery on my face.” I grinned, messing with him, trying to get my thoughts back on track. “And remove this dimple … for free, of course.”
His smile disappeared as his thick lips sealed shut. He reached for both my hands for the second time tonight, his eyes once again studying me. Pressure threaded throughout my lower muscles, his gaze heating me all the way down to the tips of my toes.
I was powerless in his presence.
Uncertain and unstable.
He leaned over, his lips all but touching mine. An unusual satisfaction covered his eyes. Why couldn’t I stop imagining what his warm, wintergreen mouth would feel like brushing against my most perceptive body parts? Why was I allowing myself to get aroused? Please. Can’t you just kiss me already? My eyes slid shut and I heard a small snicker leave his mouth as he backed away from me. Playing with me again.
“And why,” he breathed, “would I ever want to do that?”
“Umm, maybe because I hate it. And you’re the best of the best. And definitely don’t need the money. Call it charity, Doctor. Claim it on your taxes.” I flashed him another playful grin.
He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, brushing off my question. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your friend now, Alexa. And, please. Go home and sleep it off.” His deep voice was sophisticated and reeked with sex. He placed a hand firmly on the intimate lower part of my back, totally ignoring what I’d asked. My body quivered at the small touch and I truly believed he could bring me to an orgasm just by the sound of his voice alone. I locked my lips and tried to calm myself, my temper rising at his repeated accusation that I was drunk.
What would he do after he left me? Did he spend his evenings here? With all his ego freaking mania, why was I suddenly picturing him demanding a poor, weak, but beautiful woman granting him access to jerk off in her mouth? Going by the fact he was co-owner of a fetish club, I was sure his ginormous dick had come in more mouths than I cared to count. Why did that small fact leave a sinking feeling in the bottom of my stomach?
“Maybe you should cuff me for public drunkenness, Doctor. Isn’t that something you’re used to doing here?” His left brow rose as his face covered in a small look of amusement.
“Maybe I should cuff you, Alexa. Restraint devices are indeed commonplace around here. And you, dear, most definitely need a disciplinarian in your life.”
Suddenly, I hesitated, uncomfortable with where this conversation was going, and broke away from the green gaze that looked not only entertained, but passionate. And somewhat serious.
“Come on, Alexa. Let’s get you home. I’m sorry if I offended you. It was merely a joke. Nothing is done at Venture without full consent.” He gestured toward the door, the look on his face unreadable.
Chapter Nine
Tyler
Well, fuck me! Was I dropped on my head as a baby? Did I really walk away tonight, leaving a beautiful woman when I wanted her so badly it was more of a need than a craving? Not making sure she got home safely was a totally chickenshit thing to do. What I was oddly feeling for this woman that I barely knew, clashed with every perception of who I was.
Commitment was nothing but a distraction—something I’d been sidestepping my whole life. But Alexa’s beauty sucked the air straight from my lungs, the urge only intensifying when she opened her smart mouth. Fierce blue eyes full of fire with thick lashes sweeping up every time she blinked, surrounded by her long auburn waves had me wanting to bend her over Justin’s desk and fuck her into a senseless coma. Fuck her into seeing things my way. Even with what I was beginning to see as a red-hot, quick-tempered nature, something still told me she had an inkling to find out more about me. Never involved with a woman that angered easily, getting her to see things my way, the submissive way, could prove to be a very interesting feat.
Never giving a single ounce of fuck what people thought about, for some reason, I yearned to know what made this woman tick. The list endless, did she expect flowers and romance on a regular basis? Did she lean a little toward the kinky side? Would she have kicked and screamed through a temper tantrum if I’d taken my hand and lifted up that obscene Band-Aid of a dress and spanked her cute little ass for talking to me like she was the one in control? Nobody controlled Tyler Yates. Yet, I’d lowered my defenses around this woman. Which proved one thing.
I was in fucking trouble.
Even screaming small submissive possibilities, Alexa Bohmann was anything but Venture material. A smart man would accept that fact and put it to bed. My dick had saluted plenty of women, but this thing with Alexa, a woman still a stranger, was idiotic at its best. I ached to fuck her. Somehow, I knew I would.
Tonight though, I’d sent her away. Told her to go home, bypassing my original plan of ordering her to never set her pretty little ass in Venture again. What the hell was she doing there anyway? With Justin busy, I never got around to asking him. Or auditing the books.
It was late. A long day ahead of me tomorrow, I needed to find a way to get some sleep. But I’d ended things with Alexa badly, and thoughts of that gnawed away at my insides. Somehow, I needed to make this right. She already thou
ght I was a cocky asshole, which in all reality I was, but small, pinching shreds of remorse tugged at me. And I’d done nothing since I returned home but question the meaning behind that.
For a woman that I’d only seen twice, there was a big chance that she was causing me to grow a conscience at thirty-six years old.
Chapter Ten
Alex
When the next morning arrived, thankfully, I had the day off. Given the way my head throbbed, chances were I’d probably end up purposely dumping food, or worse, in the lap of one of the slack-jawed, ogling, horny men that came to Bryson’s on a regular basis searching for a booty call. The classy steakhouse brought in droves of businessmen that usually ended up drinking way too much and getting a little too touchy-feely with the servers. Today, I couldn’t stomach the thought.
Crabby since I woke up this morning, I didn’t feel much better now after being awake for hours. Last night had turned into a completely disastrous night of suckage. For me at least. Being booted out of the club by the orgasm on legs left my stomach twisted in angry tight knots.
Maci, on the other hand, was stoked. Already working on ways to get her hooks into Justin after he programmed her number into his phone, I could hardly blame her. Of course, he refused to give up any information on Becca, claiming the name wasn’t familiar. Maybe this was a waste of time. Especially knowing the detectives on the case were surely going to visit the clubs in this area in time.
Maybe it was best to simply let them do their jobs.
Spot on about the freaking water, I didn’t exactly have a hangover. Still, my mood literally sucked. I didn’t feel like myself and I was so tense and horny that I couldn’t seem to shake it off. Besides failing to get a single clue on Becca, thoughts of the assmaster with the most amazing hands and lips charged my head from the minute my eyes opened this morning. I needed to either forget about him and move on, or pull out my energizer bunny and have a nice orgasm with beautiful hands and amazing thick lips in mind. If only he hadn’t texted me, maybe I could actually stop grinning like an outright lovesick idiot and carry on with my shitty mood.
The water helped, didn’t it? Awaiting my thank you.
Every part of my body screamed to respond. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. How had he gotten my number in the first place?
The clock read 6:58 PM and the urge hit me to watch a good chick flick. One of those that made you bawl your eyes out during three-fourths of the movie, leaving you depressed and never wanting to risk true love. With my feet underneath me, I stared at the guide on the television, opening a bottle of wine. Seriously! Why was it that I had over two hundred channels, but there was never anything decent to watch when I was actually in the mood and had time?
Still dressed in pink pajama pants and a non-matching black tank top, I’d never bothered with makeup today. Actually rare for me, it was also strange that I was still ready to scream at the top of my lungs after being up for hours. I was pissed at everything. And still horny.
No luck on finding my sad movie and given my horrible mood, I poured myself a second glass of Chardonnay and pulled up job listings on Craig’s List. This needed to be my priority. My job situation was getting downright ridiculous. Not a big drinker and certainly not one that indulged two days in a row, somehow today was just one of those days I understood perfectly how people became alcoholics. To forget. To try and not give a shit. I finished my second glass of wine and poured a third, clicking out of Craig’s List. I couldn’t concentrate.
Another perk at having a best friend that worked for a law firm, instead of looking for jobs, I pulled up the profile on Tyler that Maci emailed me. Just as Becca’s hadn’t, his also revealed very little, but it did divulge two phone numbers, an address, and two e-mail accounts. I didn’t have the balls to call him, but what the hell, I was going to take the coward’s way out and email him. Mess with him a little more because it was fun. At the very least, maybe he’d offer to remove the dimple on my face free of charge that he’d refused to speak of last night. Then again, probably not. Three glasses of wine later, and tipsy, I sat typing.
Dr. Yates,
I’ve seen your work on everything from simple eyebrow lifts to complicated scar removals online. You’re known for doing fantastic work. But I guess you know that already, don’t you, Doctor? Did you know I’ve wanted this dimple on my face removed since I was thirteen? But surgery isn’t an option because, unlike you, I don’t have more money than God. Your website states you make the beautiful more beautiful. Is that factual Doctor, or just a ploy to pull in more willing victims? I’m willing—if you’re paying. Of course, you’re perfect and probably get all the nookie you want, so I guess you don’t understand what a woman feels like when she’s dealing with an imperfection like mine. We aren’t all perfect, Dr. Yates! Have a wonderful life!
Regards,
“Alex” Bohmann. A.L.E.X.
With a drunken giggle, I immediately hit SEND and downed the last drop of wine in my glass. No dinner and an entire bottle of Chardonnay weren’t exactly a good combination. Two nights in row, this was becoming a habit I needed to break. I brushed my teeth and slid off all my clothes except my panties and crawled into bed. Maybe I should’ve made myself drink a bottle of water, but I was too tired to get up now. So much for Chardonnay not causing drunkenness. Where did I hear that false rumor from anyway?
****
The day started with my alarm blaring Shinedown singing about being thick as thieves. Jesus, hadn’t I just gotten in bed? I rolled over, the screaming pain behind my skull like tiny knives digging inside my sinuses. More like a just-shoot-me-and-get-it-over-with kind of pain, I ambled to the kitchen and opened a cold bottle of water, chasing three Advil. What the hell possessed me to drink an entire bottle of wine on an empty stomach? Again?
“Oh. My. God!” Mortified by the sudden memory of what I hoped was only a dream, I spit a stream of water onto the counter top. What the hell was wrong with me? “Please, please, please tell me I didn’t send the orgasm on legs a drunken email.”
My open laptop sat on the couch, along with the empty wine glass and bottle. Crap! My pulse racing, I hesitantly opened my mail, a vision in my head of what Tyler’s face must have looked like as he read the drunken childish words. Just take me now, God. I’m never, ever touching alcohol again.
Why was my head this damn hard? Why couldn’t I control my temper better?
Two long deep breaths, I clicked on my inbox. There it was at the top of the list. Clear as day. Staring me straight in the face was the dreaded response from the one and only, bossy ass, hot as hell Doctor Tyler Yates. I’d had too much to drink plenty of times, but never lost my damn mind and done something as stupid as this.
Good evening Alexa,
How nice, and surprised, I was to see your message. Still wondering how you managed to find my private email address. I give you credit for that. As I read your message, two things came to mind. 1) You were drunk, or 2) You feel you’re qualified in the cosmetic surgery profession to make logical decisions on whether certain procedures should or should not be performed. Either way, you come across as someone willing to take risks. I like that in a woman. So tell me, Alexa. What makes you tick? Sending drunken emails? Scalding strange men with hot coffee? Visiting clubs that you have no business attending and leaving a poor man with an aching hard-on? As for nookie, which I find to be an amusing old-school term for fucking, there was none given to me last night. Although, I certainly considered it. One last thing, Alexa. Never underestimate me, sweetheart. Don’t push too hard. There’s no pussification where I’m involved. You may not like the outcome.
“Tyler” Yates. T.Y.L.E.R.
“What the hell?” I whispered to myself. Pussification? Who was this man? Was he serious? I’d met plenty of egotistical, self-proclaimed bachelors, but this one brought all others to shame. I couldn’t care less how perfect he was physically, or the fact that he was a freaking millionaire plastic surgeon. Big lie. Big fat lie. A
s much as his raw words aroused me, I wouldn’t write him another damn word. My hand trembling, I deleted the email. Pussification?
Whoever told me Chardonnay didn’t get a person drunk was certifiably nuts. I felt like crap as I drove to work. It was going to be a long day working a double shift when we were short-staffed, but I desperately needed the money. The Advil eased my headache substantially and I only had a slight, dull lingering pain, but the sickness in the pit of my gut was something altogether different. If I could get through this day without spewing, it was going to be somewhat of a small miracle.
Since I already felt shitty, I went ahead and texted Maci. As sure as the sky was blue, my ass was going to be grass when she learned about my drunken message.
Going in for an early double shift today. I screwed up, M. Big time!
I added a frowning emoji and hit SEND.
Maci was the best friend I’d ever had, but she didn’t hold back when she had an opinion to voice. She had a tongue sharp enough to cut her own throat. Yet, she understood all about the Bohmann temper and the crap load of trouble it got me into from time to time, and had no problem setting me straight when I screwed up. That said, I wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable ass chewing. Like clockwork, my phone rang.
“Hey, Maci! You at work already?”
“What the hell did you do now, woman? Spill.”
“Oh, M. Take a guess. And start with freaking Tyler Yates.” My chest ached and I slumped back into the couch. Who was I now? Was I thirteen again and in middle school, passing love notes to the cute boys? This non-emotional, walking hard-on was having way too great an impact on me.
“What happened? Did you hear back from him after he ordered you to go home?” Maci giggled.
“Well … not exactly. And it’s not funny, Maci. I did something incredibly stupid. You’re gonna rip me a new one. But please. Before you do, just know I’m blaming it on PMS.”
Pink Lilies (Beautiful People Book 1) Page 5
