No Ordinary Gentleman

As he tightens his arms, bringing me even closer, my breasts are pressed flush against him. Our eyes meet, and he knows I know what he’s doing to me. I can see it in that dark blue self-satisfied gleam. He can probably feel the heat pouring from me. I will actually die when this is over if I’ve left a damp patch on his pants.

Over his thickly muscled thigh.

Oh, Lord.

But the thoughts don’t last long as he dips me backward, making the blood rush to my head. As he lifts me upright, warmth licks through my insides as our noses almost touch, and . . . I’m back to riding his thigh again.

And anticipating the hard brush of him.

“How are you feeling now?” Alexander’s words are pressed into the soft skin of my neck, his next breath a soft grunt as I bring my hands to his hips.

Hot. I feel hot. Inside. Outside. A heated pleasure seems to pulse from my fingertips to my toes. But none of that seems like the kind of things I should be sharing. Not with him. Not now.

“I-I’m okay.” If okay means primed to go off like a firework.

His low laughter seems to shock us both.

Please, Lord above, don’t let me have said that.

The music begins to slow as he takes my hand in his, sliding me a look that makes my skin hum. By silent agreement, he leads me from the dance floor. We step out of the open French doors at the far side of the room and down onto the terrace.

The cool evening air does nothing to ease my blood.

“Alexander.” I hold up my hand to stop him when he brings it to his chest where it once again becomes passive. He steps closer, his eyes glimmering like the stars in the night sky the moment before he slides his lips across mine.

Was the groan his or mine as my hands slip under his jacket, unable to find purchase against the fabric.

Another groan, this time mine as he steals my breath and feeds me his. This is the exact kind of kiss that’s meant for darkened hallways in Latin clubs. For museum rooms. For castle kitchens. For bedrooms.

“We shouldn’t.” Even as I protest, my mouth is greedy for his as my bones liquefy and my insides turn molten.

“But we are.” Alexander spins me, pressing me up against the roughness of the wall, the cool stone penetrating the thin fabric of my dress.

The soft brush of his breath against my neck feels like heaven as I reach for the hard length of him.

Patterns. We’re following old patterns.

“Not here. Come to my room, Holland. Let me have you for a night. For a lifetime.” Though his mouth still dances over mine, his words catch my attention.

He doesn’t mean that.

I find myself pulling away.

“No. We can’t do this. You came with someone else, and I’m here with—”

“Don’t say it,” he growls, decisive, dark, and dangerous. “Don’t you dare say his name.”

“But—”

“This is bullshit, and I’m putting an end to this right now.”

My chest rises and falls in tight breaths as I stare up into his angry face. But evidently, I’m not looking high enough as he grips my chin, forcing it up.

“You’re going to go back into the party and say your goodbyes. Then you’re going to go to your room and gather what you need for the night. Then, my darling,” he says, bringing his lips to my ear and causing pleasure to pulse from my toes to my skull, “in precisely half an hour, you’d better find your way to my room. Because, if you don’t, I’m going to go inside and find my brother and tell him a few not quite truths.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I whisper unnecessarily. Maybe my mind doesn’t understand well, but my body sure does, nerve endings lighting up like I’m a dang pinball machine. His threats are empty, and he doesn’t even know it. Because you’re a liar, my mind whispers. You’ve lied to him, and you’ve lied to yourself. And you’re still doing it now.

“I’ll tell him I brought you out here to fuck. And like the slut I’ll make you out to be, I’ll tell him you loved it. That you moaned as you sucked my cock.” He straightens, his eyes hooded as he caresses my face. “Griffin already tried to get me to believe you were being chased by half of the village. Cameron. Cooper.” His generous mouth pouts on the Uber driver’s name. “I’ll just be selling him his own lie.”

Once upon a time, I might’ve been furious. One upon a time, easy was almost a trigger word. But right now, all I can think about is what this means. This moment. This manipulation. And how I’ll give in but not for the reasons he thinks.