He was standing right in front of her, legs spread, arms folded. Solid. Strong.
“So they’re not supporters of independent thought and decision making. What happens if you stand up to him?”
“I did. I didn’t marry Richard, did I? And they support independent thought as long as those thoughts and decisions align precisely with theirs. If not—” she shrugged “—they have various methods at their disposal for trying to secure the outcome they want.”
“But you studied art at college, so clearly there have been times in your life where you followed your dreams.”
“That was one of them.” Turning away from him, she leaned her cheek against the cool of the window and stared out across the winter sky. “My parents were so angry they refused to take me to my halls. They sent me with a driver. Took me a while to live that one down with Brittany and Skylar. They thought I was a spoiled princess.” Remembering that he felt that way about her, too, she gave a short laugh. “I guess you can identify with that. You think the same thing.”
“Not anymore.” Something in his voice made her turn her head.
She met his gaze and the look they exchanged was infused with a strange, thickened intimacy.
Trapped by the burning heat of his dark eyes she felt her heart rate steadily increase. “Turns out we were both wrong about a lot of things.”
Most of all, this. The deep, dangerous attraction that seeped through her skin, sending luxurious waves of arousal through her body.
She’d always acknowledged that he was handsome. She was an artist, and she could appreciate a perfect bone structure and a strong masculine jaw as well as the next woman.
Still, whenever they’d been together the simmering anger had burned off any temptation she might have had to find him attractive.
But now …
Something had shifted. Maybe it was the numerous times he’d come to her aid over the past twenty-four hours, or the kindness he’d shown her, but all she could think about was how it would feel to go to bed with him. To slide her hands over those powerful shoulders and press her lips to his skin.
He had more sex appeal than should have been allowed in one man.
The moment he’d stepped out of the shower naked was embedded in her brain. It was as if her brain had turned into a Pinterest board, covered with images of Alec. Her mouth felt dry. The only place she wanted to pin him was to the bed.
Shaken by the power of her feelings, she broke the connection, scooped up her bag and strolled toward the bathroom.
“Thanks for listening, Alec.”
As she opened the door, she decided it didn’t really matter where she spent the night. After the look they’d just exchanged, she rated her chances of getting any sleep a big fat zero.
ALEC ROSE AT seven after a night without sleep.
He contemplated a cold shower and decided he didn’t want to be in the room with Skylar any longer than was necessary.
Keeping his eyes averted from the tangle of blond hair, long limbs and bedding strewn across his bed, he dressed quickly and went downstairs.
It didn’t help that she’d had a restless night, too.
He wondered if it was the conversation with her father that had kept her shifting in the bed until the early hours. That conversation had played on his mind, adding yet another piece to the picture he was forming of her. A picture that looked nothing like the image he’d had before.
He’d found it easier when he didn’t know anything about her.
Easier to consign her to a box in his head labeled Do Not Touch.
The rest of the house was still asleep and he walked into the kitchen and stared blankly at the coffee machine. Good coffee was one of his father’s enduring passions, and the trusty old machine had been replaced by a fancy Italian machine that appeared to have been designed to the same specifications as a Ferrari.
“All I want is a damn cup of coffee,” Alec muttered as he stared at the bank of levers and gleaming chrome.
“Can I help? I speak fluent coffee machine.” Skylar’s voice came from behind him and her slightly husky, morning tone triggered another rush of the same hormones that had kept him awake for most of the night.
Having spent sleepless hours listing all the reasons why joining her in the bed was a bad idea, he was in a foul mood.
He’d been counting on having a few quiet hours to regain his equilibrium.