Sionna flopped back and gazed up at the ceiling. “Oh, come on, Ren. You don’t indulge in random thought experiments, and you live with one of the stars of the show. I suppose I don’t need to watch the final season now.”
Lauren’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Sionna twisted her neck to meet Lauren’s eyes. “Care to tell me why you wanted my opinion on this?”
Even with her limited viewing ofGods of the Gates,Lauren had reached much the same verdict as her friend. And if she and Sionna were right—if Alex was right—
Then no wonder he was so angry at the final season’s scripts. No wonder he’d damned the showrunners in his fic on AO3.
She sent her friend an apologetic grimace. “I can’t say, and I’m so sorry. Again.”
“It’s fine.” Sionna waved a limp hand. “Can I get back to my ogling and unassuaged horniness now?”
Thanks to her best friend, Lauren had finally decided for certain: She wouldn’t belatedly report the fic to Ron, and she wouldn’t make Alex take the story down.
It might be a foolish, dangerous choice, but she’d made it, and she’d stand behind it.
“Yup. Ogling time is recommencing, starting …” She pressedplay. “… now.”
LAUREN ROSE FROMher bench when she spotted Alex striding hurriedly toward her at the airport Sunday evening.
Oddly, it felt like seeing him for the first time. Or maybe … seeing him for the first time in color, instead of gray scale.
He wore a slate-blue Henley and slim-fitting, dark-wash jeans, and his golden-brown hair floppedjust soover his brow. His beard offered grit and depth to his pristine features. His forearms were strong and muscled, his hands broad and capable as they gripped his carry-on and another huge, random bag.
His rapid walk could better be termed a prowl, because he was all animal grace, all fluid motion. When he saw her, his rakish grin creased his cheeks, and … oh. Oh.
Forget all those fluorescent bulbs overhead. Alexander Woodroe emitted his own light, and she had to blink against the glare of it.
At the charity event, she’d called it star power. Charisma. But his appeal, his draw, was more personal than that now. Too personal.
Lauren swallowed hard and watched his rapid approach, almost light-headed at the prospect of his nearness.
Only yesterday, mere hours ago, she’d told Sionna he was sexy, and she’d believed it. But today shefeltit. In the exact spot where her friend had advised pressing her phone when it vibrated for the millionth time from one of Alex’s texts.
Dammit. Her libido had chosen aterribletime to emerge from hibernation.
A moment later, he was there, halting only inches away, his gray eyes aglow with warmth and crinkled in good humor. He was breathless from his haste in a way that emphasized the rise and fall of that honed chest. The chest she’d spotted damp and shirtless several times, but hadn’t appreciated properly. The chest she suspected she’d be seeing in her dreams now.
For a moment, she could have sworn he was going to hug her. If he did, she was relatively certain she’d pass out.
Then the moment was gone, and they were walking toward the exit, and he flashed that infuriating, charming smirk at her. “Miss me, Wren?”
“Terribly,” she said dryly, and with more sincerity than she would wish.
“Likewise.” He slung an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side for a split-second embrace before releasing her. “In fact, your absence made me philosophical. If a tree misbehaves in a forest and no one is there to scold it, did the tree really misbehave at all? I say no. Let me explain my reasoning, in scintillating and exacting detail.”
His monologue lasted for several minutes straight, which was convenient, because the imprint of his body against hers had left her unable to speak.
But the ache in her chest was gone. Completely, utterly gone.
Texts with Carah: Sunday Afternoon
Alex:In an airplane AGAIN
Alex:So BORED
Alex:ENTERTAIN ME, CARAH
