“That was the brochure you were reading when I met you at the museum,” he said. “I asked you what it was.”
I arched my back as his fingers resumed their pumping and circling. “You have so much to think about. It wasn’t important.” My voice was breathless as my body inched toward climax.
He read my body as though he’d been studying me for years. I didn’t know how, but he understood exactly the rhythm I needed, the perfect amount of pressure, when to hold back and when to let go.
His fingers changed direction at exactly the right time, and I was lost as pleasure burst out of my every cell.
Before I’d caught my breath, Alexander crawled on top of me and his condom-covered dick nudged at my entrance.
“You tell me this stuff, you hear me?” he whispered in my ear, his hair brushing against my cheek, setting me on fire as he pushed inside. “I want to know.”
Right then I would have told him everything. I wanted to say how thankful I was to have met him. How I’d never had sex that had me sated and yet craving for more at the same time as I did with him. How no man before him had ever made me feel as sexy and wanton, yet so respected at the same time. How his passion to succeed and build a legacy seemed to have burrowed into my DNA. Alexander had changed me, altered my view of the world.
The drag of his dick inside me brought me back to physical need. I watched as his forehead became sheened in sweat born of the effort to make me feel good, to make him feel good, to make us feel good.
I opened my legs wider, wanting him deeper and more connected to me.
He groaned and thrust harder, pressing his smooth fingers into mine, covering my hands and keeping us joined, as if our hands clasped together meant we’d share everything from now on—our hopes and fears, our feelings and emotions. I shouldn’t, but I enjoyed him wanting to know about Columbia, about my plans—that he seemed to feel like he had some kind of stake in my future. I felt the same. I wanted him to do well, be happy, laugh more.
I’d never felt so close to anyone.
These feelings weren’t meant to develop. I wasn’t supposed to care for someone. What was happening to me? I’d promised myself I’d never open up to a man again. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted Alexander, liked him, trusted him. I’d not just opened up a little. He owned me.
Before I could figure out what to do with all these overwhelming realizations, Alexander shifted back onto his knees with me on his lap, my legs either side him.
His fingers dug into my ass as he pulled me toward him, driving his hips at the same time, my breasts thrust up with the movement. Alexander’s eyes dropped, taking in my chest. He groaned, pushing deeper and harder.
I gripped his shoulders as our hips pushed against each other, our bodies desperate and wanting, scrambling toward climax.
I glanced down and saw him gazing up at me, his perfectly blue eyes taking me in as if to memorize me.
The fucking felt different this time, as if we needed something more from each other, needed to prove something, break down some kind of barrier. As though we’d moved to a different level of our relationship.
“Alexander,” I moaned.
“No hiding,” he grunted, his movements becoming sharper and less controlled.
I wasn’t sure if it was his demanding tone or his need for more of me that triggered my orgasm, but my entire body began to shudder at his stipulation.
He thrust into me three more times, his face contorted by his orgasm.
I wanted to give him everything he demanded of me.
What was happening to me? I’d promised myself that I’d never care about a man again, and yet here I was, wrapped in a man’s arms, hoping that he’d never let me go.
Twenty-Nine
Alexander
When I reached Violet’s place, I lifted the brass knocker with my elbow, then released it, almost dropping the armfuls of black boxes I was carrying.
Violet swung the door open. The box at the top of the pile tumbled off, and she caught it.
“Alexander. What are you doing?”
“I’m taking you to dinner,” I said.
Her eyes lit up. “You are?” She glanced at the clock on the mantel as I followed her into the sitting room. “You’ve finished work? It’s barely seven.”
Since we’d spent Thanksgiving together, I’d stayed at her place every night. Although I was normally back a lot later than this. Something had passed between us that weekend, and we were more connected than ever. I found myself aiming to leave chambers as soon as I could, which had never happened to me before. I never clock watched—I just worked my way through whatever it was I had to do and I stopped when I knew I needed to sleep. Spending time with Violet had become a reason to finish early.
“Yes, and it’s a Saturday. I’m giving myself the evening off while I can.” I put the three remaining boxes on the console table.
“I’m excited. Want me to find us a table somewhere?”
“I’ve booked the fancy Chinese,” I said as I slumped onto the sofa.
Her smile faltered, but she nodded. “Okay.”
“You’d prefer not to go there?”
She shrugged and put the package she was holding on top of the others. “It’s just fancy doesn’t really suit me. I always think fancy is Scarlett and Max’s thing.”
“This place has good food and we should be celebrating. I don’t often take evenings off.” It was Saturday night. No normal person would work on Saturday night as a matter of course. I really needed to look at my life.
She slipped onto my lap and slid her hand around my neck. “Okay. I’ll be the girl that goes to a fancy restaurant tonight.”
“And I thought you might want to wear something in that lot.” I lifted my chin at the packages. At Woolton I only saw her in clothes I’d gifted to her. And it gave me an unfamiliar sense of satisfaction. I liked buying her gifts, and I liked that she dressed in what I’d bought her, as though we were interconnected in the smallest of ways.
“Alexander, you have to stop buying me things.”
I circled my arms around her waist. “I like it, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, but you don’t need to spend your money on me.” She pressed her lips to my jaw, and my muscles began to unlock from a stressful day.
“But I want to.” Whenever I’d bought gifts for Gabby, it had been out of guilt. I’d have missed dinner or worked all weekend. It had proved effective for a while—she was satisfied and I worked harder. But buying her nice things quickly became a sort of fine or penalty, and I began to resent it. The gifts I gave Violet were never given with an apology. She would simply admonish me for my extravagance and then look stunning in whatever it was I’d bought. “Scarlett told me your size, so there are shoes in that box,” I said, pointing at the second box down.