Page 79 of Scoring Eden

“Thank you.”

Alex doesn’t drop my hand in her absence. In fact, he tightens his grip. But what surprises me most is that I’m glad for it.

I don’t know if it’s being in this perfect house, the look he gave me just now, or knowing what he did to protect Macon from the media, but something has caused warmth to leak from my heart and spill through my entire body.

I swallow, and so does he, drawing my attention to the ripple of his Adam's apple. It’s unexpectedly erotic. As is the way he slicks his tongue along his bottom lip then follows it with a scrape of his teeth.

He watches me watch him, and only when my gaze has returned to his does he allow his own to explore. I can feel the heat of it stroking me as it travels down my face, over my dress, to my bare legs, where it lingers for a while.

What’s happening right now?

This isn’t exactly an opportune time to check each other out. We’re at a house viewing, for Christ’s sake. We shouldn’t be looking at each other like this at all, but definitely not here, in a house that we don’t own, with a realtor waiting outside.

I clear my throat to break the spell and pull my hand out of his. “We should check out the other rooms.”

His lips quirk, as if he has a sixth sense and can tell what’s happening inside of me.

I roll my eyes, though my irritation is directed more toward myself than him. I know better than to allow myself to get caught up in moments like this.

“Let’s see the first floor.” My voice is too loud, but at least the volume helps disguise the tremble in it. I don’t wait for him to respond, just march back into the hallway, where a spiral staircase leads up to the next story.

It takes everything in me not to take the steps two at a time. I need to put some space between us, need a little breathing room to get myself under control.

I don’t get it, though.

Within seconds, I can feel him behind me again, the heat of him warming my back. I take the stairs faster and growl at the low, breathy chuckle that whispers across the back of my neck.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You seem flustered.”

“I’m fine.” I throw open the first door I find and bolt through it.

Naturally, Alex slips through the door before I have a chance to slam it behind me. And that’s when I realize my mistake.

Of all the many rooms on this level, of course I chose the laundry room. It can’t be more than seven feet long and four feet wide, with two washers and dryers flanked by shelving on the back wall.

There’s nowhere to hide.

My pulse spikes, the silence between us simmering with tension that glitters in the air like sun dust. My skin erupts in goosebumps, and there’s a steady beat between my legs that aches in its intensity.

If I don’t put at least ten yards between us in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to humiliate myself.

I’ve never felt such an all-consuming desire for a man before. And it’s a great tragedy that my body has selected Alex as its first target, a man that has a whole roster of women at his disposal should he choose to use it.

“What now?” He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, oozing confidence.

I don’t know.

I’m all out of options, and he knows it.

“I think I’m gonna check out the dryer while you make yourself busy in another room.” I release a ragged breath. “Preferably on the far end of the house.”

He pins me with a penetrating stare, tipping his head to one side. His pupils are blown, his gaze so hot on mine that I swear I start to perspire. “Why?”

Because I can’t think when you’re so close to me. Because I’m scared of what I’ll do if you touch me again.

“Because you keep looking at me like…”—I wave my hand in the direction of his face—“that.”

“Is it making you uncomfortable?”