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Then froze.
“Fuck, Fee, no condom.”
I sighed, then collapsed down into his arms. “Thank God I have an implant,” I said, and with my nose buried in the nape of his neck, I closed my eyes and listened to my heartbeat and his, thrumming in perfect accord.
Too perfect.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
My heart still fluttered when my hotel room door—which Alex had someone repair in the few hours we were at the club—clicked shut behind me.
I touched my lips, still tingling from the lingering sensation of Alex’s kiss.
Holy shit.
The silence wrapped around me like a comforting blanket.
So much had happened.
And even though I’d just witnessed my first, live shoot-out, that experience paled in comparison to having sex with Alessandro freaking Falcone.
I shook my head, then moved from the door into the room.
I threw the jacket, which Alex gave me on our ride back, onto the bed—another unexpectedly sweet gesture, just like snuggling with me with his cock still inside of me after our shared orgasm.
I looked into the mirror.
I looked thoroughly fucked. I needed a shower to clear my head—and my body—before facing him and everyone at the emergency meeting Alex and Gabe arranged on our way back to the hotel.
Clear my head, and process what’d just happened.
What did it mean?
Would our relationship change? Did I want it to change?
I strolled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Maybe Alex’s fake-dating and real-fucking wasn’t such a bad idea. Though it didn’t feel like fucking.
It felt like so much more.
I sighed and kicked off my shoes on my way back to the room when my eyes fell on my purse—which I’d finally gotten back.
My phone was tucked away in there.
I emptied the contents onto the bed, then plugged in my phone and undressed while I waited until it finally powered up.
A flood of missed calls and messages assaulted me. My breath hitched when I scrolled through the list.
Why was my dad, who never called or texted, trying to reach me?
This was unusual; even after the kidnapping, he’d never reached out to me—had barely even asked if I was okay when I returned.
And even before, it was my mother relaying his thoughts and demands—which I would usually ignore and leave for school, or another trip.
A tiny sliver of hope sparked inside me. Could it be that he missed me? Would he finally start caring?
I’d even gotten a text from Uncle Craig asking for a call—which made me smile. Uncle Craig was the exact opposite of Dad. He was the OG-overprotective, loving father.
I checked the last message—Dad again.
