“I brought you with me to make my time here smoother, not to distract me from doing my job.” My mark hits the target, and I hate myself for taking out my frustration on her.

  “Well, maybe you should stop changing the rules as we go!” she screams, throwing up her arms and walking to the window, her favorite spot. Her words are so spot on, I cringe.

  “I left work in the middle of the day when I couldn’t reach you,” I add, softening my tone.

  She has her arms wrapped around herself, and I want to go to her. But I don’t.

  “I feel responsible for you when you’re here, and that includes your safety. You could have been mugged. I don’t care what you do when you’re not with me, but if you are going to wander around the city, please take a driver or, at least, your phone.”

  “But responsible enough to take me and show me around?” It’s a low blow but a fair point.

  “I have been buried under work but was planning on it. Honestly.” She looks over her shoulder, and I can see that incredible brain of hers working overtime, gauging how true my words are.

  “Prove it.” She throws out her chin in defiance. “Stay home the rest of the day. Take me to a show or the MET or a pizza place. Anything. But don’t shut me out after our pretending at events follows us home, and then into that bedroom where we are more… Then, you wake up on the scared ass side of the bed and decide to push me away.”

  Her words sting, but I can’t deny that’s what’s been happening. There is something about her that lowers my guard, and it terrifies me. I notice that we are walking towards each other. A gravitational pull.

  “Okay.” I tell her.

  “Okay?” Her face is shocked. Then, she smiles at me, and I don’t know why I bother trying to keep my distance. “And Netflix?” she adds. Her smile could end wars.

  “Of course.” I kiss the top of her head.

  Chapter 13

  Alexa

  Standing on the sidelines, I polish off another glass of champagne, the bubbles tickling my throat as I attempt to wash away this melancholy feeling. In a room full of people, Manhattan's finest to be exact, and the warm glow of candlelight, flickering on every crystal and gilded surface, I feel cold and alone.

  It's not like I expected this to be a date by standard definition. I know it's just pretend. An illusion, nothing more. But... after the other night, it doesn't feel so fake anymore. We both agreed it was only physical, two consenting adults. We wouldn't let it complicate the job we had to do. Both our futures depended on it.

  As someone who prides myself on being pragmatic, I'm struggling not to get swept away by any romantic notions, pretend or otherwise. But there is a small part of me, buried deep down, who sees this situation in a different light.

  There was a limo, and this dress. Yards of black lace bound tightly around my body, giving the illusion that I'm bare beneath the delicate fabric, making me feel like a goddess. And his tux. Oh, Lord, his tux. My cheeks flush at the memory of seeing him standing there in the lobby of the salon, waiting for me with hunger burning in his eyes. Me.

  Handing my empty flute to a passing waiter, I search the crowd for the man consuming my thoughts. Before my eyes is a sea of expensive gowns and penguin suits, maneuvering themselves around the dance floor like pieces on a chess board – with calculated precision.

  Just when I'm about to retreat to the bar for something stronger, the air crackles, charged with some type of invisible energy; clouding all my senses. He must be near. I barely have time to finish the thought before I feel his strong capable hands circle my waist from behind.

  On instinct, I lean back into his chest, tilting my neck and offering it up as he nestles in to nibble below my ear. The scratch from his whiskers causes a moan to escape my lips.

  Before my brain can catch up, recalling the hurt of his earlier brush off during dinner, my traitorous body lets out a sigh. Taking advantage of my momentary insanity, one of his hands drags along the bodice of my dress, caressing the exposed skin from my lower back up to my shoulder.

  His touch lightens as he continues across my collar bone and finally to my chin. A gentle nudge has my face angling up to meet his chiseled profile. He captures my mouth in a delicate kiss. He exercises restraint, but I can feel what lies there just below the surface. His taste, a mix of sweet cigar and whiskey, lingers on my lips after he pulls away.

  Before the fog clears from my lust filled brain, I'm being led across the crowded dance floor. The flare of my mermaid style gown swooshing at my feet, giving the illusion that I'm floating.

  In this moment, when he stops walking, he spins me in his arms and pulls me close. I can't help but think maybe I have more in common with Cinderella than I care to admit. It's not just the dress, the shoes, nor the fact for this one night, I'm the girl at the ball on the arm of the prince. It's knowing that our time together is coming to an end. I may have longer than midnight, but that's just more time to fall.

  Our bodies gliding to a seductive tone, Ben's fingertips graze my lower back, igniting fires. Everyone in the ballroom disappears as the carefully constructed façade, we built, crumbles at our feet. With every sway and turn, my need for him grows, and not just in the physical sense. I wish I could see his face, but he holds me tightly against him; and when the dance ends, he practically carries me out of the hotel.

  Something shifted tonight. I'm assuming he felt it too, and that's why he hasn't said more than two words since our dance ended. As we wait for the car to be pulled around, I can feel him distancing himself. Even though his arm is still wrapped firmly around me, he's a million miles away. My heart sinks a little at the thought.

  The limo ride will either be heaven or hell, depending on which Benjamin Hamilton climbs into the backseat with me.

  After being a gentleman and ushering me into the car, he drops his hand and situates himself beside me, our thighs barely brushing. I look up and find his attention focused at something on his phone. Suddenly missing the warmth, I realize this is the first time that his hands haven't been on me since he first came to me in the ballroom... But now it's only the two of us, no audience, and the coincidence is not lost on me.

  *****

  Ben was quiet in the car, I know tonight was emotional for him as he finalized the details of selling off his portion of HALtech. I get his distance, but I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to take off my pretty dress just yet; I’m not ready for the evening to end. So, I stand in my favorite place, in front of the windows overlooking the city. A city I have fallen in love with in just a matter of weeks.

  The air becomes charged and I feel my skin tingle. Opening my eyes, I see his reflection in the window.

  His dark silhouette is shadowed in the room, and only the light of the city alive behind me illuminates his face as he stalks toward the windows. Toward me.

  The closer he gets, the more charged the air is. I feel this magnetic draw to him in a way that's unexplainable.

  I turn, and my gown whooshes against the glass. My instinct is to step forward, to go to him. But this time, he has to come to me. The tiny thread of pride I'm holding onto causes my body to step backwards, the cool glass a shock to my burning skin.

  He stalks me like he's a lion, and I am his prey, taking his time but his eyes never leaving mine.

  He opens his jacket and slips it off, throwing it on the back of the couch. He undoes his tie, leaving it open and slowly dragging it to one side before letting it drop. Next is his shirt, the buttons opening one at a time before the white cotton parts reveal his perfectly sculpted tan chest and tight abs leading to a perfect V—I could stare at his body all day, but I need him with me now.

  Once Ben finally reaches me, he steps between my legs and presses his hard length against my stomach. Through the thin fabric of the gown, I feel him. All of him.

  "Arms," he commands, and I lift them. He holds them in one hand, captured above my head, my breasts thrust out into his face, nearly spilling out of the deep V in my gown.

  Keeping my hands secure, he lowers his face to my chest, dragging his nose along my skin, breathing me in.

  I swear I can feel him stealing my soul with every breath he takes.

  "Ben," I struggle to release my hands. "Let me touch you."

  He groans, pressing himself tighter into me, using his free hands to drag down my side until he grips my hip.

  His arms turn me in a pirouette until I'm facing the glass. "Alexa." My names comes out as a plea. "Do you trust me?"

  I nod, my head falling forward to rest on the cool glass.

  "Put your hands on the glass, and leave them there for a second."

  I do as he says. I want him more than anything. More than the job, the money, the clothes, any of it. I. Just. Want. Him.

  I feel the zipper on the back of my dress, making a slow descent. His fingers brush my bare skin, and he takes his time, dragging it down. Inch. By. Inch.

  The air is cool on my flushed skin, and the heavy fabric begins to slide further down with every fraction he lowers the zipper, until it finally falls to the ground in one, final swoosh. A puddle of tulle, lace and beads float like a dark cloud around my feet, which are still encased in my black jeweled stilettos.

  His quick intake of breath causes wetness to flood my core. I'm stripped bare, both literally and figuratively, as I wait for his next move, my body humming in anticipation.

  His hands barely graze my skin from my shoulders, down my ribs, hips, then thighs, and I feel him kneeling behind me.

  Gentle fingers drag my panties down, the shimmery fabric slightly scratching as they glide across my skin. He taps for me to lift me feet, to step out of the panties. I look down to see what I'm doing, and it's so erotic, discovering him kneeling behind me, looking up at me, watching me as he removes the last of my attire.

  I can feel his breathing pick up, blowing hot and heavy on the backs of my thighs.

  Taking my legs in his hands, he moves them apart slightly. Then, placing one palm on my lower back, he applies pressure, causing my ass to stick up on the air so he has better access to where I need him most.

  It is my turn to be speechless as he whispers across my sex, "I promised myself just one taste... That's all. But it wasn't enough. It'll never be enough, Alexa. Never."

  He surprises me by tasting me from behind, teasing me with his tongue. I fall farther forward, my hands sliding down the glass until my forearms are pressed against the window, and as I try to support myself, he feasts on me, his fingers digging into my hips, holding me tight where he wants me before spinning me around and pulling one leg over his shoulder. The sudden change in position has my first orgasms crashing through me.

  My back arches into the glass. Crying out in pleasure, I start to slide, and his steady hands keep me from falling.

  He stands, lifting me into his arms, and my legs instinctively wrap around his waist, grinding against him. Only tuxedo pants separate us. The pad of his thumb runs across my bottom lip, and I stare into his eyes.

  And in this moment of weakness, I don't care what it costs me. What I could lose is irrelevant because I know I would do anything to keep his eyes on me the way they search me out and tie me in knots across a crowded room.

  He walks us into the bedroom and lays me back on the bed, removing my heels, one then the other.

  I would do whatever it takes for his hands to hold my body captive the way he holds my heart.

  His hands are everywhere, touching, teasing, pleasuring. His lips mingle with mine before traveling down my neck, making the descent to kiss his way greedily all over my chest, then working his way back up.

  Sex with him. It's not an action as much as an experience—one that demands all my attention and assaults all my senses. He rolls on the condom and lines himself up to me.

  But instead of driving in like I expect him to, he changes the pace and drags himself up and down my throbbing opening.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  I nearly pass out from the intensity when we finally come together.

  I open my eyes to find him watching me. I struggle to keep them open and focused on his, not wanting to miss a single second of what's happening.

  There are no words to describe what I’m feeling. I only hope he feels the same.

  Rolling to his side, he pulls me with him, and I snuggle in to his embrace. Neither of us wanting to break the moment.

  “This time, this changes everything," He whispers into my hair.

  I lift my head to look up at him and see that my Ben is back, the one I came here with and the one I met in the diner.

  The one I fell for in the confines of this room, not the Ben he is in the boardroom.

  "I'm sorry--" he starts.

  "Shhhhh..." I kiss his lips gently to quiet him. "I'm just glad to finally have you back."

  He nods as if he knows exactly what I mean, discarding the condom, he pulls me to him and holds me tightly. I snuggle into his embrace and drift to sleep.

  Tonight, there will be no pillow talk. There are no words. Just action, and that’s worth a million words.

  Chapter 14

  Alexa

  Yawning, I stretch and feel the delightful ache between my thighs, reminding me of the night we shared. Rolling over, I’m disappointed to find that he’s gone. My hand rubs the spot where his body laid next to mine, finding it still warm. He can’t have been gone long. Snuggling over on his pillow, I pull the sheet around me, breathing in his scent.

  “Ben?” I call out.

  No reply.

  Answering nature’s call, I drag myself to the bathroom and decide to go ahead and shower. He probably just ran to grab breakfast.

  I’m not going to overanalyze or over react. Not going to do it.

  The steam fills the room, blanketing my doubts.

  After last night, I’m sure we are done with the back and forth.

  The hot water does wonders to ease the aching muscles from our all-night lovemaking.

  Lovemaking.

  Love.

  I love him.

  I knew I felt something for him, an undeniable attraction. Sure. Chemistry is off the charts. Absolutely. But when I strip everything else away, I realize that I do love him. Me.

  Someone who has spent her whole life avoiding relationships, just because of the disappointment that they bring. Knowing he has his own issues with relationships, I decide to wait to tell him.

  However, I have the interview tomorrow with Tate and Cane, and I don’t want him to think this is about that…or that my feelings are contingent on what he can do for me. Deciding to not make any life altering decisions before coffee, I throw on a robe and head for the kitchen.

  Stepping into the hall, the scent of brewing coffee hits me. Mmmmm.

  “Ben, you are a saint.” I call out, eager for my first cup and feeling refreshed after my shower.

  Before I get the far, I’m stopped dead in my tracks. A dark haired woman, who looks like a walking Chanel ad, is sitting on the sofa.

  “I would have said more sinner than saint, but maybe you weren’t referring to the bedroom,” she hisses.

  “Excuse me? Who the hell are you?” I bark out, even though I have an idea of who she is.

  “Well, look at you playing house…” She stands and walks around as if inspecting me.

  "What are you doing here? Where is Ben?" I demand, pulling my robe tighter around myself to ward off the chill running down my spine.

  As much as I'm torn between slapping her in dragging her out of this room by her hair, I am rather curious as to why she's here.

  "Please, sit." She gestures like she owns the place, sitting back down. "I took the liberty of making us a pot of coffee; I hope you don't mind. I figured you could do the honors." Her perfectly styled head nods toward the coffee service that she's placed on the table in front of us.

  Slightly confused but complying, I pick up the carafe, not wanting to let her see how much she is getting to me, and begin to pour our coffee.

  "Since you're the professional," she adds, causing my hands tremble, and the delicate China rattles in my fingers, anger and embarrassment flushing my cheeks. My blood boils as I stare at her.

  "Sit," she orders.

  With a defiant lift of my head, I inform her with as much venom as I can muster, “I'll stand, Tess.”

  Her eyes flare with anger before she quickly recovers from the shock, and they frost back over. I’m sure she isn’t happy that her little game isn’t going according to plan, the element of surprise gone.

  "Have it your way." She sips her coffee like she’s here for afternoon tea. I’m still reeling from her reference to my serving coffee.

  "Don't look so shocked. I know all about you, Alexa James," she says, as though she can read my mind.

  “You're certainly beautiful; I'll give you that. However, you have an edge about you. That’s not a good thing. I'm sure Ben thinks that he likes being challenged. I'm sure it's exciting, especially in the bedroom... Pardon me…that wasn't very ladylike.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

  Frigid Bitch Barbie just keeps talking, and I can’t figure out what to do. I’m shocked but still trying to work out how the hell she got in here. I don’t want to piss her off. I’ve seen lifetime movie network, and it never works out well when you challenged the crazy ex. Where is Ben?

  Oh, shit. She’s still talking. I’ve zoned out, imagining the ways she could probably dismember me with a nail file.

  “But, it takes a certain type of breeding to be the wife of a person like Benjamin… qualities that can't be learned in a diner or a stay at school, for that matter. Even a fancy one.”

  I fist my hands, my nails biting into my palms, disgusted with hearing her talk about me like I'm nothing. But I won't give her the satisfaction.

  “And let me guess…you do?” I spit out.

  “Why, yes, dear, I do. That's why he gave me his ring.” She flashes her hand at me, and it takes everything in me not to go across the room and knock that smile off her face.

 

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