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She’s wearing a navy pencil skirt and a white tucked in button-down collared shirt—two sizes too small, by the way, making her breasts look like they’re going to pop the buttons.
And a nametag. She works here. I’ve seen her, I realize. She works at the front desk.
She passes Dylan and me with a very satisfied look on her face, then wipes her mouth with her manicured fingertips and smirks.
“That man is a stallion,” she says as she steps into the elevator.
That son of a bitch!
“Are you okay?” Dylan asks.
I clear my throat and continue to the suite door. “Y-yeah. Um, I’m fine.” An unexpected laugh bubbles in my throat. “See. We’re nothing,” I lie as the thought of what I’m imagining happened between Aleck and the front desk girl sizzles over every inch of my skin.
“Not quite.” He chuckles. “That’s the opposite of nothing, Winter.” He reaches up and rubs his thumb across the scowl line I didn’t realize I had.
“Enough about Aleck. I had a wonderful time, Dylan. You’re the perfect date.”
Dylan smiles, stepping toward me. He curls his arms around my waist, pulling me into an embrace. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him back.
“I won’t kiss you, Winter,” he whispers, making goosebumps pepper my skin when his lips touch the ridge of my ear. “I want to, but I won’t. Not until you’ve figured out if you and Aleck are truly nothing.”
I nod to agree, impressed with his maturity. “Can I call you?”
“Absolutely,” he says, separating our connection.
We exchange numbers, then Dylan makes his way back to the elevator.
“Thank you for the perfect date,” I call out, making Dylan turn around with a smile that stretches from ear to ear.
“Of course, Winter Sommers, woman of my dreams.”
I turn, facing the door to my suite, the sight of it flattens my smile when I realize what’s on the other side.
Who’son the other side.
Aleck Fox, manwhore, breaker of deals.
SEVENTEEN
ALECK
What did I fucking expect?
I told Winter I don’t date. I told her I don’t even sleep next to women. And I don’t, typically. That has been true since I realized I enjoy the company of women, but I don’t make commitments. Mostly because I don’t break deals, and I rarely lie. I can’t possibly know how I will feel about someoneforever. Or even a week from now.
But I know a snafu when I see one. Andthisbullshit with Winter is a snafu.
I like her. I don’t really know what that means yet, but I know I’m willing to break my rules for her. Or, at the very least, bend them.
Nevertheless, I am who I am. And Winterknowswho I am. And now she’s on a date with some dipshit frat boy when we could be naked in the kitchen, elbows deep in a carton of Phish Food, taking a breather from our three-hour long sex bender.
If you’re questioning the duration in disbelief, don’t. I’ve been hard for this woman since she sauntered her pissed-off ass out of that hallway with a face covered in shit, looking like Ben Grimm.
Speak of the devil…
Light conversation from the hallway penetrates the front door of the suite. The hair on my neck stands at attention, knowing it’s her.With him.
“Thank you for the perfect date,” she calls out.
