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Jane Austen’s ghost…
Pine, mint, and clean cotton assault my nose, making me lightheaded with lust. I press my knees together just to stop the ache between my legs with Aleck Fox’s name written all over it.
It’s only because it’s been months since you’ve been touched, I tell myself. You’re a red-blooded woman with ahealthyneed to orgasm. This has nothing to do with Fox the Vagina Tamer. The last thing you need are your needs to be in the handsor mouthof Aleck Fox.
“A book,” I rasp, reaching for it, but Aleck holds it up and out of my reach. “Give it, Aleck.”
“What are you, twelve?‘Give it, Aleck,’” he mocks.
“Areyou?!” I roll my eyes, then stand from the bed and fold my arms over my chest in defiance. “You’re so immature. It’s a wonder you win any cases at all. Has your closing argument ever beenthe Plaintiff started it?”
Aleck laughs. “I’m a corporate lawyer, Grimm. I rarely see the inside of a courtroom.” He studies the shirtless male on the cover with a smirk and smiling eyes. “Awaken My Heartby Izzy Masters… You reading smut, Miss Sommers?”
“It’s notsmut! It’s a romance novel, and it’s one of my favorites.”
Aleck fans through the pages, stopping in the middle of the book, opening it wide. His narrowed eyes scan the page while my mind goes wild.
Please don’t be a sex scene! Please don’t be a sex scene! Please don’t be a sex scene!
A broad grin curls Aleck’s lips from ear to ear.
It’s a goddamn sex scene.
“His full-mast cock pressed into my slit so deliciously I almost came before he even thrust it inside me…” Aleck’s eyes slowly lift from the page to my grimacing face, a thin layer of sweat coating my forehead, my eyebrows dipping in embarrassment. “Winter Sommers, you just got alotmore interesting.”
“Stop.” I hold my hand up, attempting to stop the onslaught of torment headed my way. “It’s a love story. You happened to land on a sex scene. Sometimes I even skip them—”
“There’s no sense in denying it. The cat, so to speak, is out of the bag. You’re a sex-crazed, unfortunately sex-starved, hopeless romantic. Do you rub yourself off to this stuff?”
I jolt forward and grab a pillow. Aleck immediately drops the book at his side and lifts onto his knees just as I swing the goose down-filled weapon. He catches the pillow, yanking it forward, forcing me to drop to the bed in front of him. Our unabashed laughter fills the room as Aleck digs his fingertips into my sides, my stomach, my armpits, and thighs, tickling me relentlessly.
Although Aleck mentally exhausts me, he physically exhilarates me. There’s no denying the sexual tension between us, it’s impossible not to notice. To say I’m attracted to him is like assuming Doomsdayers buy toilet paper in bulk. It’s a given.
Becauseeveryoneis attracted to Aleck Fox. He’s a god in a room full of mortal men. A donut on a table full of Brussels sprouts. He’s as mesmerizing as a brightly lit and twinkling Christmas tree in a pitch-black room. It’s likely everyone’s lust-pit reacts to him.
But this,thisisn’t sexual. He’s not making a pass at me or trying to sneak a feel of my tits to see if they’re real and as spectacular as they look. He’s simply happy. He’s having fun and so am I.
Tears drip from the corners of my eyes and trail down my temples to my comforter as Aleck’s unrelenting fingers make me laugh so hard, I snort. He lets up, leaning back, as his laughter deepens at my ridiculous impersonation of a pig.
“I’ll take that as a yes, Grimm.” He plops back into his spot, a pleased grin lighting up his face. “I bet you prefer your own fingers over a vibrator, too.” His eyes narrow on mine.
I sit up and wipe my eyes clear of tears, my laughter settling into a devilish smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“More than an insider tip on my most lucrative stock, Winter.” His eyes linger on mine before he takes a deep breath and exhales, cutting the tension between us. “Get dressed. We have to be at Candlelit Hall in twenty minutes.”
* * *
Entering Candlelit Hall—impressiveroom, ridiculous name—we interrupt a woman in a pantsuit slouched in a chair, boredly flicking the screen of her phone. Her head whips up as we walk toward her. Her spine straightens, and she jumps to her sensible heels, pocketing her phone quickly.
“Ah, here is my beautiful couple.” She steeples her hands, walking toward us with a warm, welcoming smile. “Preston and Sondra, I presume…”
“Oh no,” I start. “We’re not—”
“On time,” Aleck interrupts, grabbing my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “I apologize. My fiancée couldn’t decide which leggings to wear. Thankfully, she didn’t choose the ones covered with little wedding cakes.” He chuckles, then squeezes my hand, eyeing me like he’s winning the war I’m merely sitting sideline to.
I don’t know what his game is, but whatever it is, I’m going to win it. I love battle. Let’s do this.
Turning toward Aleck, a flirtatious smile curls my lips as I step toe-to-toe with him. Looking up into his glacial blue pools, I push my bottom lip out, feigning a pout, and flutter my eyelashes. His head tilts, acknowledging how quickly I’ve adapted to his game. I pull the fingers he’s threaded through mine to my lips and kiss his knuckles one by one, making his nostrils flare and his eyes narrow into sharp slits.
