My suspicion is proven spot on when I notice a shadow under the door. He either bolted to the door the instant I called his name, or he’s been standing behind it the entire time I’ve been showering. Recalling his snooping ways in the hospital months ago, I’ll go with the latter.
“Did you need something?” Alex asks, shocked by my delay.
“Uh.” I scan his bathroom one more time to make sure I haven’t missed seeing a towel. “I need a towel.”
“Uh-huh. Do you want me to bring it in?” Hope rings in his tone. . .or is it wit?
Wanting to test a theory, I reply, “No! I’m naked. Just leave it by the door.”
Alex groans. “Okay. Party pooper.”
His shadow doesn’t budge an inch—not even for a second—before he says, “It’s by the door, waiting for you.”
“Thanks.” I grimace, having no idea what to make of this. I wait for Alex’s shadow to disappear. It’s a long and cold minute.
“Alex?”
“Yes, Regan.” He answers me in the same manner he did when I shouted his name. It is virile and hot, and it makes me squirm.
Hating the lust-crazed idiot I’m becoming, I snarl, "I can see your shadow under the door, you nincompoop!"
The need for a towel is lost when Alex replies, “I know.” His voice is laced with self-assuredness.
People see confidence as a bad thing. I do not. Games, on the other hand, they piss me off something major. I don’t play games. . . unless I’m the one instigating them.
After throwing my satin slip over my bone-dry body, I toss open the bathroom door with just as much force. Alex is standing on the other side, looking as smug as a lion in mating season. He keeps his eyes locked on my face, but I know he doesn’t need to lower them to take in the whole picture. The snarl of his top lip is all the indication I need to know he is disappointed about my covered frame.
His eyes return to my face when I bark, “I don’t play games, Alex. Haven’t since I was a child.”
I barge past him and storm into his room, only to remember halfway there his room has no door for me to hide behind. Peeved, I spin back around. Except for the cozy living room on my right, there is nowhere for me to go, and Alex knows it. His smile is stretched ear to ear, his chest puffed high.
“Is this why you brought me here? To add to my torment?” He physically shunts from my snappy tone, but it doesn’t stop me saying, “I’ve been fucked around multiple times tonight, so unless you intend to fuck me for real, leave me the hell alone!”
“Hey, come on, this wasn’t my intention,” he replies when he spots stupid moisture looming in my eyes. “I thought a little playfulness would loosen the tension between us, not make it worse.”
“Well, you were shit wrong!” I push out through the lump in my throat.
I hate dramatics; I’m just too scared by tonight’s events to reel in my feelings. The hate in the note scrawled across my vanity mirror scares the shit out of me. A madman was in my house. If Alex hadn’t showed up when he did, who knows what would have happened.
“Obviously, I have a lot to learn when it comes to comical acts,” Alex remarks, stepping closer to me.
“Clearly.” I’m shocked at his submissiveness. He took the reins so well tonight, I would have never guessed he’d hand them over just as quickly.
While he bridges the distance between us, my eyes drift to the wall, hating the sympathy brimming in his. “What’s going on, Rae? You were in that shower so long, I was growing worried you had escaped via the exhaust fan vent.”
A smile cracks my lips. His question was laced with worry, but there was pure panic in his last statement. He truly believes I’d crawl through a vent to elude him. Apparently it isn’t just his comedic schtick needing some work—my flirting skills also need some. I’m not running from him. I’m struggling not to chase him.
“I tried to escape.” I rub my cheeks with my hand to ensure no tears have fallen. They haven’t—thank god. “The hole wasn’t big enough for me to squeeze through.”
Alex shakes his head, barely concealing his smirk. I flinch for the quickest second when he raises a towel to my shoulders to dry the water puddled there. Although the heavy decline of his Adam’s apple discloses he noticed my cowardly response, he acts oblivious.
Once my shoulders are as dry as my throat, he switches his dedication to my hair. While he pampers me as no man ever has, I take in another slow breath. I study him carefully, confident he will not only protect me—he could utterly destroy me. Before him, I didn’t care if my actions were seen as slutty. I was who I was. Nobody was going to change me. But as I stare into Alex’s endless dark gaze, my thoughts turn dangerous. I want more—I deserve more. He just doesn’t seem willing to give me what I want.
My eyes stop dancing between Alex’s when he asks, “A penny for your thoughts?” His old saying leads to the first genuine smile on my face all night. That is an adage my great grannie always said. She was the light of my life before she lost her battle with cancer two years ago.
I answer Alex’s suggestion in the same manner I always did to my gran, “My thoughts are worth more than a penny, so I’m inclined to counterbid.”
His oceanic eyes drift around his clean but bland apartment. “Look around, Rae. I’ve got nothing but pennies to offer.” His saying seems more directed at the thoughts I kept in my head than the ones I vocalized. When he returns his eyes to mine, he adds on, “Unless all you’re after is an ear? I’ve got two of them.”
