Then, it’s over. The pearls release their grip on my throat. Alex moves his palm from my clit, taking the rest of the pearls with it. The electric thrumming slows to a dull ache between my thighs.
“So fucking beautiful,” Alex hisses, while he unties the makeshift blindfold from my eyes. In seconds, he’s peeled off his shirt and climbed out of his trousers. “Lay down, babygirl. Let me worship you.”
And he does. No inch of my body is left untouched by his tongue. Then he slides into me like he’s doing it for the very first time. I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his backside as he moves in, then out again. Tempered. Smooth. As his fingers dig into the flesh of my hips, pulling me forward into every thrust.
His growl, low and quiet, caresses my ears as his body tenses and jerks on top of me. He leans forward, his teeth against my neck, and I reach the edge right along with him.
“If you’re trying to convince me to stay, it might be working,” I tease, letting my fingers float over the ink on his arms. I’ve come to memorize every line, every curve, every intimate detail of the artwork. As I lay here on his chest, regaining feeling in my legs, I lock these moments in my memory bank. I keep them there for the days the hours at work seem extra long or the time we have to spend separated.
“Oh? And I was just about to tell you about a great place down the street,” he fires back.
My head shoots up, waiting for the punchline. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. But since I’ve convinced you to stay here…”
I throw the comforter off and hop out of bed. “Alex,” I shriek, “You have to show me.”
He lifts his side of the comforter, eyeing his naked body. “Now?”
“Yes, now.” He doesn’t look excited. “Please?”
“Do you really need a Uhaul for this?” Alex asks, as he steers the big truck down the interstate.
Is he serious?
“You do realize we’re going to IKEA, right?”
He takes his eyes off the road for a second to question me. “What is that?”
What is that? Did he just say, “What is that?” First the Cuban food, now this. There’s so much he has to learn.
“That’s it,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “Turn around. We’re breaking up.”
There’s a confident smirk in his wide smile when he looks over at me again. “So, we are dating?”
Well, duh. I thought that was a given. I don’t know where he comes from, but where I was raised after three weeks of complete sexual bliss, you’re dating. “We were. Until you dropped the IKEA bomb.” I can’t look at him. If I do, the tough gal routine falls to pieces, and I know I’ll have to laugh.
“Anything a guy can do to get a second chance?” he asks, reaching over to stroke my leg.
Keep looking straight. Don’t look at him. Don’t do it. “I’m immune to your charm,” I reply, placing my hand on top of his, stopping him just before he reaches the top of my thigh. “But, there might be some way for you to work your way back in…”
Two and a half hours, four bags, and sixteen boxes later, Alex has had a proper introduction to the world of IKEA. “How are you with power tools?” I tease, as we haul our first load into the freight elevator of my building.
“I prefer using my hands. But, if you’re into that sort of thing…”
I mentally palm my forehead. “Well, you are good with your hands,” I flirt, “but we have to put the bed together first.”
We’re nearly finished with all the bedroom pieces when my cell phone rings. Weird. The only people with my new number are my parents, Kylee, Alex, and work. Kylee is in Cancun with the piggy-back boyfriend I met at the party and I just spoke with my mom this morning.
“Hello, this is Manuel with Remote Securities. We were given your number in case we couldn’t reach Mr. King,” the man informs me after I answer.
Remote Securities is the alarm company for Cameron Incorporated. Andrew told me he’d listed my name as a contact. I just never thought they’d use it. “Is everything okay?”
“We’ve checked the cameras, and everything seems to be fine. But any time the alarm is set off, we require an employee to come down to the premises.”
Seriously? Now? I’m elbow deep in nuts, bolts, and Swedish instruction manuals. “Of course. I’ll be right there.” I walk over to Alex, who’s been watching the conversation with interest. “The alarm at the office went off, and the security company can’t reach Mr. King. So, they need me to go down and take care of it.”
“Do you need me to go with you?”
I lift up on my tiptoes and give him a quick kiss. “I can handle this one. Why don’t you take a break?”
Alex has adjusted to not arguing with me when I ask to do things on my own. It was hard for him at first. He did everything from fixing my dinner to washing my hair. But eventually, he let go of my hand and let me start finding my own way. I can tell by his expression he doesn’t like it, but I haven’t given him much of a choice.
“Why don’t I make us lunch while you’re gone?”
By “make us lunch” he means order take out, and I’m fine with that. “Yes,” I reply, as if it’s the best idea I’ve heard all day. “I’m starving. Chicken salad from Panera would be heaven.”
He feigns offense. “How do you know I wasn’t cooking?”
“Were you?” I challenge him with my eyes.
“Maybe,” he quips.
I slide my hands up his arms and over his shoulders, finally wrapping my arms around his neck. He’s shirtless, and so damn sexy. He’s making it hard to leave. I let the tip of my tongue trace his bottom lip, earning a low growl from deep in his chest. He takes a handful of my hair in his fist, pulling my head back and forcing me to look at him. “Hurry back,” he demands, “I’ve been dying to see how you look tied to that headboard.” His mouth claims mine in a hungry, greedy kiss and I’m starting to wonder if the alarm company can wait. He chuckles quietly against my lips when he pulls away. “Take my car. You’ll get home faster that way.”
I hate the thought of driving his Range Rover in Miami traffic, but he’s right. There have been times when I’ve had to wait twenty minutes or longer on an Uber. And I am ready to finish what he’s started, so I accept the keys from him and head out the door.
I wait in the lobby as the security guard makes his round through the building. My body is humming in anticipation of my return home. I will never get enough of Alex. He has consumed me, body and soul, and I’ve never been happier.
“All done here, Ms. McClain,” the older bald gentleman in the dark green uniform announces as he approaches me from the elevator. “I just need you to sign here, please.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry you had to come out.”
“Just doing my job. These things are tricky. Sometimes all it takes is a little thunder and lightning to set them off.”
I flash him a smile and shake his hand. “Thanks again.”
“My pleasure,” he says with a tip of his cap, on his way out the door.
I reset the alarm and head back to the parking garage, relieved the whole thing was just a fluke. I would never let Alex know, but from the minute I got that phone call, I’ve had a bad feeling. I suppose part of me will always be waiting for Bastain to show up out of nowhere. I can still see him sitting there, gun in hand. The way the cold steel felt as he held it against my temple. The anger in his eyes when he told me he wanted me to know what it felt like. Sometimes it keeps me up at night when I’m alone. I find comfort in my prayers and the knowledge that my happiness doesn’t belong to him anymore.
All the buildings on this block share two parking garages. It’s almost noon and the garage closest to Cameron is already packed, leaving me parked on an upper level. The bright yellow height bar that hangs at every curve makes me nervous even when I’m in a small vehicle. So, I flinch every time I pass underneath it in Alex’s large SUV. There’s a big, white truck behind me, gaining speed every time I slow down t
o make the turn to the next level. Slow down, asshole. This isn’t Tokyo Drift.
Wait. Something’s not right. They’re going too fast. I speed up. They speed up. Until they’re right on my tail. My eyes bounce from the path in front of me to my rearview mirror, then to my side mirrors. It’s a man. I can tell by the outline of his bearded jaw and the way he wears his baseball cap. I press my brakes, hoping he heeds the warning of my tail lights. He doesn’t. He’s going faster. Why isn’t he slowing down? My tires squeal against the concrete as I make the next turn. My heart races as my hands grip the wheel, white-knuckled and focused. Oh, God. I’m going to hit the block wall. I’d move out of his way but there’s nowhere for me to go. Breathe, Emma. Two more levels and I’m out of here and away from him.
He bumps the rear end of Alex’s Rover, causing me to lose control for a second. What the fuck? I know he sees me. Why is he doing this? I have no choice but to speed up. Another height bar. I flinch. He speeds up. My heart races. I’m gonna hit the wall. I have to get out of here. One more level. I can see the traffic on the street outside. The lift gate. I can’t slow down, let alone stop and wait for it to rise. Think, Emma. I can’t. I can’t think. I try but there’s nothing but static. I just want to get away from this truck. He speeds up, bumping me again and making me swerve.
I’m almost there. The traffic. The gate. The maniac behind me. It swirls and twists through my head like a wind storm, leaving nothing behind but a pile of debris. I don’t know what to do.
In that moment, I know. I know this is it. The storm quiets. The chaos settles slowly, like leaves falling from the trees. And peace calms my soul, like the whisper of a mother’s breath in her newborn infant’s ear. It’s going to be okay. I’ve spent so many years running from death, hiding from it. And I think that’s because I wasn’t finished yet. I wasn’t done living. I’m not angry with God that I’ve just begun to live. I’m thankful. In such a short time, I’ve experienced something most people wait their whole lives for. Happiness. Everything that was once spinning out of control now moves in slow motion. I take one more glance in my rearview mirror at the truck coming at me at full speed, then look at the busy street in front of me. I close my eyes and breathe it all in, as I hold my foot on the gas. Alex’s smile finds me in the darkness and I am content.
Tires screeching. Burnt rubber. The sound of metal crumpling beneath metal. The air bag explodes, smashing and crushing my lungs. My arms flail in front of me, reaching for something, anything to hold onto. My upper body jolts from one side of the car to the other, my seat belt slicing through the flesh of my abdomen as another vehicle crashes into me. I fall forward, my forehead colliding with the window just before it shatters. Then, I’m tumbling again as the SUV flips on it’s side after another forceful impact. Fiery sparks shoot through the broken window as the steel skims the pavement. The scent of burnt oil and chemicals fills the cab, forcing me to hold my breath. It hurts. Everything inside me feels shattered. My head is heavy, my tongue coated in a coppery pool of blood. A piercing silence rings in my ears. Then it all goes black.
Alex
I should have gone with her.
I sit here in this dark hospital room, in the leather recliner that has doubled as my bed for the past two nights, and curse myself for not listening to my gut. I knew she wasn’t safe as long as that bastard was out there somewhere. Video surveillance in the parking garage connected the truck to one from Bastain’s dealership, but he’s still out there. Walking the streets. While she lays here in this room. Broken. Shattered. And there’s not a fucking thing I can do to fix her this time.
She floats in and out of consciousness, waking once in a while ordering me to leave. Sorry, love, but there’s no fucking way that’s happening. She’s lucky she’s not paralyzed. She did suffer a concussion from the window impact and a rib fracture from the airbag deployment. Her ankle is broken, and she’s got several bone contusions. There were also severe injuries to her pelvis from being thrown around the car while still wearing her seat belt. But she’s alive.
As soon as the hospital informed her parents of the accident they flew in to see her. I’ve witnessed Emma’s phone calls with her parents. She’s been so excited about all the things going on in her life, I think she’s called them every night. Her eyes light up when she speaks with them. The love they share is palpable. It reverberates through the air. It makes me miss my own mother. I’ve spoken with Mrs. McClain on the phone. Emma introduced me as a friend, but the way her parents looked at me when they walked in, eyes full of sympathy, I know they don’t buy it. Emma had planned on having me meeting her and father. But not like this.
“I knew something wasn’t right with that man. I should have known something like this would happen,” her mother says through her tears. “Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry. I should have been there. I let you down.”
She blames herself. I think we all do to some extent. I see the way her parents care for her and it explains so much about her character. She’s so kind and caring because that’s been her world. Until him. Until he took her, kept her hidden from all she’d ever known. So, he could destroy her from the inside out. I’d give anything for five minutes alone with him.
I assure her parents I’m not leaving her side. The nurse let us know Emma should be going home in the morning. I convince them to agree to get a good night’s rest at Emma’s apartment before heading back to Tampa. I happen to know she’s got a great new bed.
Her friend Kylee came by too. And her company sent flowers. Kylee didn’t stay long. She said she couldn’t stand seeing Emma this way. I don’t blame her. It kills me too. But I’m not leaving. Not for a second.
“Alex,” she says, in her weak voice.
I jump up from my chair to take her hand. “Hey there, sleeping beauty,” I greet her with a smile.
“I want to go home.”
Her words might as well be a hammer, shattering my heart. She repeats them nearly every time she wakes up, and it kills me every time. This strong, independent, stubborn woman had just gotten her life back. She had taken the world by the balls, and was finally finding her way. He took that from her. Again. She doesn’t want to be here, hooked up to machines, peeing in a tube. She wants to be kicking ass at Cameron in three-inch heels or driving me crazy at her flat in a t-shirt and panties. Emma can go from corporate to kinky in five seconds flat. And I fucking love it. I climb in bed behind her, stroking the long, blonde strands of her hair. “I know you do. Tomorrow, love. Tomorrow,” I whisper against her ear, praying the nurse was right.
The soft rhythm of her heart beat on the machine next to her bed combined with the gentle stroke of my hand in her hair lulls her back to sleep.
A soft knock on the door startles me awake. I check the clock. It’s just after midnight. They just gave her meds at the 10:00 shift change. I hate when they come in here waking her up. Just let her fucking sleep.
The door creaks open and a man peeks inside. I don’t have to know what he looks like to know it’s him. The stench of evil rolls off him in waves. He’s tall, a good four inches taller than me, but I don’t give a fuck. The minute his eyes spot me in the corner, he slinks back out the door. Oh, no, mother fucker. Not so fast.
I follow him into the hallway and out to the parking lot. Less witnesses that way. He reaches for the handle of his black Lexus sedan, and I grab the back of his head, banging it against the top of the roof, smashing his brow bone the way he smashed hers. “Don’t you think you’ve hurt her enough?” I growl in his ear.
“Who the fuck are you?” he spits.
I lift his head to slam it back down again, this time crushing his cheekbone. He spits blood at the ground, rearing his head back in an attempt to head butt me. I tighten my fist in his hair and he hisses in pain. I want him to feel everything she felt that night. “You should worry less about who I am and more about what I’m gonna do to you.” He spits again in defiance, but it doesn’t affect me. “If you ever come near her again, I will rip your bal
ls off with my bare hands then feed them to you for breakfast.” I force his body around by his hair and land a swift jab at his nose. Enough force to break it, causing his knees to buckle in pain, but not causing any permanent damage. Although, if I wanted to, I could have.
I leave him like that, bloody and cursing in the parking lot. I need to go check on my angel.
I don’t tell Emma about her visitor. She doesn’t need that stress. But I do tell the local police. Violating his restraining order will land him in jail long enough for them to prove he was the driver of the white truck that caused her accident.
“If you’re done with your little vacation now, I’d like to take you home,” I tease, as I help Emma into her wheelchair.
She starts to laugh, but stops suddenly, her eyes growing wide. “Oh no,” she exclaims, “your truck. Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes begin to water and I have a feeling it’s a combination of concern for my anger, the effect of what her body’s been through, and the memory of the accident. I’m not upset, love. Not with you. I could kill him, however.
“There’s this crazy thing called insurance. They just came up with it… It comes in handy for times like this,” I encourage her with a smile. She blinks her tears away.
“Smart ass,” she quips.
There’s my girl.
“Just remember who’s pushing your wheelchair.”
When we get to my flat, I carry her straight to bed, pulling back the sheets and climbing in next to her. She trails her finger over my chest, placing gentle kisses along the same path. When her eyes meet mine, they’re pained.
“I thought I was dying,” she admits, her voice cracking with her words.
The Perfect Gentleman Page 15
