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‘Just get dressed and go.’
She nodded as she picked up her clothes from the floor and dressed quickly. Then a few seconds later, she was gone.
I sat back in my chair and sighed. It was my wedding night and I was sitting alone in a hotel room while my wife was on the other side of the city. Not that I thought I’d care about that fact.
I didn’t particularly like Alana Carmichael. She was certainly fuckable, with her long curly hair, her thick thighs and curvy ass, but she was far too much like hard work. Not to mention, she was a spoiled brat.
So, why was I thinking about her instead of fucking Princess? A woman who would know exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it.
Despite Alana being my wife in name alone, for some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t bring myself to cheat on her on our wedding night.
I threw my empty glass at the wall and watched as it shattered into pieces.
Damn my catholic upbringing!
And fuck Alana Carmichael!
ALANA
It had been two weeks since our charade of a wedding, and for the most part, Alejandro stayed out of my way, and that was exactly the way I liked it. He’d slept in the house only twice in those two weeks, and on both occasions he’d insisted on sleeping completely naked.
The first time he had stayed, I had been terrified to go to sleep in case he’d tried to take advantage of me. But, after a few hours of me lying there watching him, it had become perfectly clear that he had absolutely no intention of doing so.
I wasn’t exactly his type, was I?
Once I realized that, I hadn’t been able to help myself from lifting the covers for a sneak peek while he’d been asleep.
And sweet Jesus, I hadn’t been disappointed. He may have been the devil incarnate, but he had the body of a god. And his morning wood was a sight to behold. I could understand why half of the women in L.A were after him — although they obviously didn’t realize what an arrogant, evil asshole he was.
Alejandro had slept at home the previous night too, and I’d woken in the early hours of the morning with my hand on his chest. My cheeks had burned with embarrassment. Could he feel my hand on his cool skin?
Did he even care?
Oh, God, did he think that I wanted him?
I should have moved it and then scooted back over to my side of the bed, but all I could think about was how firm his muscles were as his chest rose and fell beneath my fingertips. I wondered if the muscles in his stomach were as deliciously perfect, and contemplated sliding my hand down further to check out for myself.
As I lay there watching him and touching his skin, I felt a stirring between my thighs that started to turn into a painful throbbing. I decided that I needed to stop touching his incredible body and go back to sleep.
But, of course, I hadn’t been able to get back to sleep after that. My body was alive with nervous, sexual energy, and I’d been terrified that I’d wake up with my whole body draped over him instead of just my hand. I could just imagine the arrogant look on his face if that had happened. So, I got up early and watched TV in the den.
I was in the kitchen, having just made a fresh pot of coffee when he sauntered into the room in just his boxer briefs. My eyes were drawn to his groin area of their own volition and I saw the hint of a smirk on his face.
I turned away to avoid looking at him.
Asshole!
‘Buenos días, princesa,’ he said, his voice low and gravelly.
I rolled my eyes and then I turned back to face him. He’d taken to calling me princess because he thought it annoyed me, which it did, but I wasn’t going to let him know that.
‘Morning. There’s fresh coffee if you’re interested?’ I forced a smile.
‘You made coffee?’ he flashed an eyebrow at me. ‘I thought Magda took care of that?’
‘Well, sometimes she does,’ I said with a shrug. ‘But I was up first.’
He eyed me suspiciously and I felt my skin prickle in annoyance. What the hell was wrong with him? Did he think I’d poisoned his coffee or something?
