The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (40 page)

“So it seems.”

Ignoring his sarcastic rebuke, I pull his face to mine for a sensual kiss. My God, how I’ve missed him. I give in to the immediate return of desire I endlessly feel for this man, lacing my fingers through his disheveled curls.

I lose my breath when he ceases, pulling his lips away. “Who’s Andrew?” he questions, his eyebrow raised.

“Oh . . . he’s Amira’s neighbor. My neighbor. You know what I mean. I met him the other day. He helped me figure out the tube. Oh! I rode the tube to work this morning! And back. After work,” my sudden rambling doesn’t escape me. Am I uncomfortable talking about Andrew with Alex? No, why would I be
. It’s not me,
I suddenly clue in,
it’s Alex.
Is he jealous?

At the sound of the opening and closing of the front door, I hear Andrew call out, “Reheated pizza delivery.”

Catching the questioning glimmer in Alex’s gaze, his eyebrow tweaked, I unconsciously purse my lips.

Andrew’s voice is louder as he nears the bottom of the stairs, “Aby? Will we eat down here or would you like me to come up to the kitchen?”

Alex’s eyebrow raises further, his head tilting to the side as he stares at me. “We’re just up here, Andrew . . . ” I reply, Alex firmly taking my hand to lead me down the stairs.

“We?” I hear him question before Alex and I come into view. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company. I can come back later.”

“Don’t rush off just yet,” Alex begins before I can reply. “We haven’t formally met. I’m Alex. And you’re . . . Andrew?”

“Yes,” Andrew shakes Alex’s extended hand.

Awkward much? I grimace at the lingering handshake and silent tension surrounding us. “Alex returned from his trip early,” I attempt to cut the rigid air. Smiling, I turn to look into Alex’s eyes, “It’s a wonderful surprise.”

“Yes, it was meant to be,” Alex adds with a forced smile, his voice less gentlemanly than I’m used to. “However, I don’t want to interrupt your plans,” he looks towards Andrew. He’s clearly uncomfortable, if not irritated. Whether Andrew can tell, I’m not sure.

“Not at all,” Andrew replies. “I offered Aby to share in a quick dinner a-la-leftovers, nothing fancy or important. Unlike your early return, which I know has made her evening. I’ll let you two be alone,” he continues, walking towards the door. Turning back, he holds up the pizza box, “I can leave this with you . . . ”

“No, Alex—I mean, Andrew. It’s your dinner . . . ”

“We’ll manage,
Andrew,
” Alex cuts me off, his body frigid, his tone foreign to me. “Enjoy your meal. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Will do. Have a good night, guys,” Andrew smiles sincerely, turning back towards the doorway.

I shoot Alex a questioning look before following to see Andrew out.

“So ‘just Alex’ is Alexander
Tate.
”

“Yeah. Sorry. I just didn’t want to share . . . ”

“What? That you’re dating a famous actor? That explains his kick-ass car. Aby, I’m a journalist, not a gossip columnist.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll explain later. Thanks, for . . . ”

“No problem. Anytime,” he interjects. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I reply, closing—and locking—the door behind him.

I find Alex in the bedroom upstairs, unbuttoning his wrinkled dress shirt. He looks up momentarily before continuing with each button with an added edginess. He seems aggravated and I can’t help but think it’s a little cute. Sexy even.

“Whatcha doing?” I decide to tread lightly, an air of playfulness in my voice.

“I’m taking a shower.” There’s a slight bite in his matter-of-fact tone as he rigidly wrenches his shirt off his shoulders. The sudden sight of his naked upper body releases a familiar tingling, and I relish in his undressing, his gaze towards me unbroken in the motion.

In my heated delight of watching him unwrap himself like a wonderfully sexy Christmas present, I decide I want nothing more than to get my hands on him. “Why don’t I join you?” I swiftly pull off my sweater, sitting down on the bed to remove my jeans.

“If you like,” he replies flatly, standing in his black boxer shorts, folding his pants before setting them on the bed.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” I stand in my t-shirt and undies.

“Nothing. It’s been a long night. I just need a shower.”

That’s right, he must have left L.A. sometime last night.
It’s about a twelve hour flight,
I think to myself, remembering his message. “You sent me a text this morning . . . ” I share my thoughts aloud, attempting to work out the timing.

“Yes, I was in the air—part of my surprise,” he walks towards me at the side of the bed, a heated sexiness added to the lingering edge in his gaze. Placing a hand at my waist, he grabs the side of my neck, pulling me into a deep kiss. He tastes so good. I can’t help but attack his bare inviting skin with my hands and wanting fingers, releasing a moan at the touch of my unwrapped present. Pulling away, he leans to trail soft sensual kisses along my neck. “I thought pizza was our thing,” he pauses to whisper in my ear before continuing the exhilarating caresses.

“I knew it!” I push away from him, “You
are
jealous!”

“I’m not jealous, Aby,” his flat tone has returned. Releasing me, he walks towards the bathroom, stopping mid-stride to look at me, “Are you coming?”

“No,” I grimace, folding my arms. “I’m not getting in that shower with you until you admit you’re jealous.” Rolling his eyes, he leans against the open door, his arms folded.
Jesus, you’re sexy as shit.
I take him in from head to toe, fighting my desire to simply run over and devour him—my want to make a point winning out over my body’s sexual calling. “Admit it, you’re jealous, and I know jealous, trust me.”

“Oh?” he finally responds, a curious sarcasm in his tone.

“Yes. You have a mighty fine, and
long,
line of wanton females for me to feel jealous of. Have you not noticed all the screaming girlie fans?” He rolls his eyes once more. “I can name a few closer to home . . . there’s Julia, for one. And let’s not leave out the most questionable, Helena,” her name rolls off my tongue.

Sighing, his arms fall to his side, “Julia’s in the past, and as for Helena, I told you, Aby, it was just sex.” At my lack of reply, he walks towards me, taking me in his arms. “What we have,” he smiles down at me, “ . . . is much more than sex.”

His words instantly remind me of the incident with Ben. An unshakeable shiver runs down my spine as I recall his suggestion that my relationship with Alex is nothing more than a fling. “Is it?” I question aloud, in lingering doubt, a sudden build of tears in my eyes.

He steps back in surprise, “What are you saying?”

Shit.
I can’t tell him now. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I choke back my looming tears, scrambling to recover.

With an angel of clever wit clearly watching over me, I attempt a shielding distraction, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Alex. I’m using you for sex.”

His lips pull into a sexy grin, “You, Miss Ryan, can use me for anything.” Bending, he whispers in my ear, “Just make sure you don’t confuse my name.”

Thankful that my diversion was successful, I relish in the hot tone of his teasing whisper and I can’t help but play with him in return, “Anything you say . . . Andrew.”

Releasing a sexy growl, he swiftly lifts me over his shoulder.

I shriek at the surprise attack as he turns, carrying me to the bathroom. “Alex . . . put me down! Alex!”

Ignoring my repeated kicking and screaming cries, he braces me in place with his strong arm secured around my backside, leaning to turn on the shower before setting me on my feet inside. I gasp, the sudden cold water drenching me. My soaked-through t-shirt clings to my goose pimpled skin, my nipples puckering.

Without time to recover, he’s upon me in the glass stall, still donned in his boxers, now clinging to his own glistening body. Releasing a wanton breath, I grab him, our lips crashing in the erotic downpour of water, its temperature turned warm as steam fills the stall.

Cupping my jaw, he angles me for his kiss. I’m consumed by him. His intoxicating taste seeps into my mouth, his tongue dueling with mine.

Sliding my fingers along his slick sides, I luxuriate in squeezing his taught muscles, memorizing the feel of him, each indentation, with my fingertips. He’s so strong and powerful. His body dwarfs me. I feel wholly protected in his arms. Cherished. I moan into his kiss as the sparks of lust fuel through me, scratching my nails along his skin.

As if sensing my complete desperation, he pulls back slightly, flashing me a sexy, knowing smile. His eyes glaze over with desire, staring down at my chest, my hardened nipples clearly visible through my soaking wet shirt. His smirk transforms into deep wanting, his eyes turning a darker shade of blue, his lips parting on a needy breath. The eroticism of his display is thrilling. To see him standing before me, clad in drenched boxers, his hair slightly curling from the moisture, I lose my breath.

Staring up into his face, watching him take in my highlighted form, I quiver in need. “Alex . . . touch me . . . ”

Gripping the bottom of my soaked t-shirt with deft fingers, he forcefully pulls it off, discarding it to the bathroom floor. Just as quickly, my panties are torn from my legs. I barely register the swift removal of his boxers, my need outweighing any coherent thought.

Grabbing my ass, he lifts me, pushing me hard against the shower wall. I wrap my legs securely around his waist, sliding my hands along his strong, muscular shoulders, trying to gain measure over his damp skin.

Slickening his cock along the wetness of my folds, he buries himself deeply in one fluid thrust. I scream at the fullness, my head falling back against the tiled wall, his lips and tongue teasing along my exposed neck, along my collarbone. I moan with each brush of his hardness against my clit, igniting his fervor. The eagerness of his pounding thrusts quicken in a savage, primal mating, his passionate grunts driving me wild.

“Yes, Alex . . . fuck me! Make me come! Make me yours . . . ” I’m desperate for completion. I need him to fill me with his cum. I need it like I need air to breath. To feel his essence shoot inside me—branding me. I thrash in his arms, needing him deeper, needing him to fuck me harder.

“God, Aby . . . what you do to me . . . ” he groans into my neck. Something inside him snaps. He lunges into me uncontrollably, his fingers kneading my ass tightly in his grip, angling my hips to plunge deeper.

I can feel him brushing my womb, every sensitive nerve acutely aware of his commanding size. My climax hits me without warning, pushing me over the edge, white lights flashing across my eyes. Screaming my completion, I dig my fingers into his shoulders.

Unfazed, he bites down on my neck, pushing into me once more before stilling, filling my pussy with his cum.

ALEX WATCHES ME in the mirror as I wrap myself in a towel, tucking it in place at my chest. Turning to face him, he places his hands at my waist. “You do know this is more than just sex, right?” he questions, a gentle care in his gaze. I note the shyness in his tone. It almost makes me wonder if he needs reassurance himself.

Get real, Aby.
This man doesn’t require any reassurances.
I, however, have repeated nagging doubts as to what
this
is. I’ve walked into some wonderful dream. That I’m sure of. How long it will last before I wake up is the scary part. And though I want nothing more than to believe him—my amazing fairytale prince—I’m unsure if I can manage a believable reply. Opting to avoid his question, I attempt to sidetrack, “And you know that you have nothing to be jealous about when it comes to Andrew, right?”

Rolling his eyes, he offers a smile, kissing my forehead before turning and heading into the bedroom. Peeking his head around the door, he flashes a mischievous grin, “I’ll go ahead and order pizza.”

“ABY, YOU DON’T sound any better then you did yesterday. You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

“No . . . Stace, I don’t know how. Every time I think I have a chance I-I can’t.”
What if I lose him?
The thought has been haunting me along with the anger, the worry, and the fear. “I don’t want to lose him.”