I’m in trouble.
Serious trouble.
CHAPTER TEN - Alec
Later, as I stand at Samantha’s side waiting for the valet, I try to push back old, familiar urges in favor of common sense. And common decency.
Samantha Jansen is a nice girl, which is part of the appeal, of course. But meeting her family, seeing where she comes from, is making my conflict even worse. Already, I feel like a monster.
Like the monster that I am when I’m like this.
It’s obvious that her parents aren’t biological. Her sister either. Which means something must’ve happened to her real parents. This girl has some kind of broken history. The last thing she needs in her life is a man like me. I can give her the time of her life, sure. Even if she’s not open to it, I can show her why she needs to be.
But then what? I know the drill. I know what happens. I’ll lose interest and move on. That’s why I make no bones about any kind of a future when I start one of these…relationships. Regardless of warnings, though, I know what kind of devastation I leave behind. That’s part of why I stopped doing this, why I learned to control it.
Until now. After all this time, Samantha is making me backtrack.
Maybe you should stop worrying about other people and let them take care of themselves. Samantha is an adult. She can make her own choices. Maybe she doesn’t need saving from you. Maybe she needs you to show her some fun.
Although I know that voice is selfish and single-minded, it’s as tempting as ever to listen to it, to block out my nicer side’s commentary. But that’s how it always starts. I let the beast off the chain for just a little while and then, suddenly, I wake up months or years later, out of control, surrounded by devastation.
And now I’ve got more to lose. I’ve finally got my life together, and this is not part of the plan.
Just one more time won’t hurt.
I press on the accelerator, refusing to glance at the female occupying the passenger seat.
But as I speed through the yellow light, only one of the two voices remains. And my zipper feels tight just thinking about what’s ahead.
CHAPTER ELEVEN - Samantha
The walk from the Range Rover to my door is the longest and tensest of my entire life. My insides are coiled like a tight spring. I am more nervous than I’ve ever been, but more than that, my blood is swimming with excitement.
Since those few intense moments at the fundraiser, Alec has said very little. He has been polite to everyone, handling the conversation with a deftness that suggests he’s used to being around people with money and influence. It reaffirms my suspicions about him.
Despite the crowd and the impersonal venue, nothing has been able to erase the chemistry between us. Time and nonchalance have only given me ample opportunity to anticipate the close of the night that much more.
He doesn’t utter a single word, right up until I unlock my door and turn to him, asking, “Would you like to come in?”
“Just for a minute. I need to get going.”
His answer surprises and disappoints me. Maybe I was expecting him not to be able to keep his hands off me. Maybe I was hoping that would be the case, even though anything happening tonight would be both a mistake and a wildly inappropriate choice on my part. But the rational part of me is relieved. I dread the inevitable outcome, and maybe it’s better to take things slow. Maybe I can stop this runaway train before it becomes a train wreck instead.
If only I wanted to. Wholeheartedly. But I don’t. The dread and the reality of my situation aren’t quite enough to overwhelm my attraction to him, my attraction to the Mason in him. It’s such a bizarre sensation, I feel a bit helpless to fight it. Even though I know I’m crazy for considering ever seeing this man again.
The sweet smell of lilies and roses from Chris’s flower arrangement greets me when I push open the door. They’ve never smelled more seductive.
The sun has set, necessitating that I turn on the lamp that sits on the table nearest the door. It hardly dents the darkness, casting only a small circle of soft light on the floor. I lay my clutch and my keys on the table and turn to Alec. He shuts the door behind him, but doesn’t move.
“Would you like something to drink?”
Ohmigod, this is like cheesy p**n gone wrong. All I’m missing is the bow-chicka-wow-wow music.
As they were during Dad’s speech, Alec’s eyes are darker in the dim light. They flash with something primal that sends a sliver of trepidation slithering down my spine. It’s a bit like facing a lion, or any other animal I have no hope of surviving an encounter with. “No, thank you. I’m not really…thirsty.” The pause, the inflection he uses leaves me breathless. Wanting.
“You’re not?”
He shakes his head and steps toward me. “I’m more…hungry.”
“F-for what?”
“Need you even ask? I thought I’d made my intentions quite clear.” He takes another step toward me.
And he has. But that’s one of the reasons I’m breathless. “Yes. But tonight…”
“Yes, tonight is your free night. Your last chance to back out. Tomorrow, I won’t be taking no for an answer. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good.” He takes another step toward me. “All night long, I’ve watched you.” Another step closer. “I’ve watched the way you walk and move, the way your dress hugs your hips, the way it cups your br**sts.” Another step closer. “I watched you blush when I touched you. I watched you pretend you weren’t thinking about my lips on yours.”
He takes the step that brings his body into contact with mine. His face is inches away. The lapels of his open jacket are brushing my rock-hard ni**les. His thighs rest against mine. “I kept imagining what your mouth would feel like, what it would be like to slide my tongue between your lips and taste you.”
I’ve never wanted to be kissed more. Ever.
“And for tonight, that’s where I’ll stop. But just tonight. You have my word.”
I can’t hear past the rush of blood in my ears. My pulse is pounding, my breath is shallow, my skin is on fire. And then his mouth descends.
He brushes his lips against mine, softly at first. Back and forth. His body sways to the same rhythm, back and forth, rocking against me in an innocent yet incredibly erotic manner. Part of me wants him to touch me. Part of me knows what will happen if he does. But knowing that he won’t heightens even the most insignificant contact.