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Chapter 13

Alexa

Standing on the sidelines, I polish off another glass of champagne, the bubbles tickling my throat as I attempt to wash away this melancholy feeling. In a room full of people, Manhattan's finest to be exact, and the warm glow of candlelight, flickering on every crystal and gilded surface, I feel cold and alone.

It's not like I expected this to be a date by standard definition. I know it's just pretend. An illusion, nothing more. But... after the other night, it doesn't feel so fake anymore. We both agreed it was only physical, two consenting adults. We wouldn't let it complicate the job we had to do. Both our futures depended on it.

As someone who prides myself on being pragmatic, I'm struggling not to get swept away by any romantic notions, pretend or otherwise. But there is a small part of me, buried deep down, who sees this situation in a different light.

There was a limo, and this dress. Yards of black lace bound tightly around my body, giving the illusion that I'm bare beneath the delicate fabric, making me feel like a goddess. And his tux. Oh, Lord, his tux. My cheeks flush at the memory of seeing him standing there in the lobby of the salon, waiting for me with hunger burning in his eyes. Me.

Handing my empty flute to a passing waiter, I search the crowd for the man consuming my thoughts. Before my eyes is a sea of expensive gowns and penguin suits, maneuvering themselves around the dance floor like pieces on a chess board – with calculated precision.

Just when I'm about to retreat to the bar for something stronger, the air crackles, charged with some type of invisible energy; clouding all my senses. He must be near. I barely have time to finish the thought before I feel his strong capable hands circle my waist from behind.

On instinct, I lean back into his chest, tilting my neck and offering it up as he nestles in to nibble below my ear. The scratch from his whiskers causes a moan to escape my lips.

Before my brain can catch up, recalling the hurt of his earlier brush off during dinner, my traitorous body lets out a sigh. Taking advantage of my momentary insanity, one of his hands drags along the bodice of my dress, caressing the exposed skin from my lower back up to my shoulder.

His touch lightens as he continues across my collar bone and finally to my chin. A gentle nudge has my face angling up to meet his chiseled profile. He captures my mouth in a delicate kiss. He exercises restraint, but I can feel what lies there just below the surface. His taste, a mix of sweet cigar and whiskey, lingers on my lips after he pulls away.

Before the fog clears from my lust filled brain, I'm being led across the crowded dance floor. The flare of my mermaid style gown swooshing at my feet, giving the illusion that I'm floating.

In this moment, when he stops walking, he spins me in his arms and pulls me close. I can't help but think maybe I have more in common with Cinderella than I care to admit. It's not just the dress, the shoes, nor the fact for this one night, I'm the girl at the ball on the arm of the prince. It's knowing that our time together is coming to an end. I may have longer than midnight, but that's just more time to fall.

Our bodies gliding to a seductive tone, Ben's fingertips graze my lower back, igniting fires. Everyone in the ballroom disappears as the carefully constructed façade, we built, crumbles at our feet. With every sway and turn, my need for him grows, and not just in the physical sense. I wish I could see his face, but he holds me tightly against him; and when the dance ends, he practically carries me out of the hotel.

Something shifted tonight. I'm assuming he felt it too, and that's why he hasn't said more than two words since our dance ended. As we wait for the car to be pulled around, I can feel him distancing himself. Even though his arm is still wrapped firmly around me, he's a million miles away. My heart sinks a little at the thought.

The limo ride will either be heaven or hell, depending on which Benjamin Hamilton climbs into the backseat with me.

After being a gentleman and ushering me into the car, he drops his hand and situates himself beside me, our thighs barely brushing. I look up and find his attention focused at something on his phone. Suddenly missing the warmth, I realize this is the first time that his hands haven't been on me since he first came to me in the ballroom... But now it's only the two of us, no audience, and the coincidence is not lost on me.

*****

Ben was quiet in the car, I know tonight was emotional for him as he finalized the details of selling off his portion of HALtech. I get his distance, but I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to take off my pretty dress just yet; I’m not ready for the evening to end. So, I stand in my favorite place, in front of the windows overlooking the city. A city I have fallen in love with in just a matter of weeks.

The air becomes charged and I feel my skin tingle. Opening my eyes, I see his reflection in the window.

His dark silhouette is shadowed in the room, and only the light of the city alive behind me illuminates his face as he stalks toward the windows. Toward me.

The closer he gets, the more charged the air is. I feel this magnetic draw to him in a way that's unexplainable.

I turn, and my gown whooshes against the glass. My instinct is to step forward, to go to him. But this time, he has to come to me. The tiny thread of pride I'm holding onto causes my body to step backwards, the cool glass a shock to my burning skin.

He stalks me like he's a lion, and I am his prey, taking his time but his eyes never leaving mine.

He opens his jacket and slips it off, throwing it on the back of the couch. He undoes his tie, leaving it open and slowly dragging it to one side before letting it drop. Next is his shirt, the buttons opening one at a time before the white cotton parts reveal his perfectly sculpted tan chest and tight abs leading to a perfect V—I could stare at his body all day, but I need him with me now.

Once Ben finally reaches me, he steps between my legs and presses his hard length against my stomach. Through the thin fabric of the gown, I feel him. All of him.

"Arms," he commands, and I lift them. He holds them in one hand, captured above my head, my breasts thrust out into his face, nearly spilling out of the deep V in my gown.

Keeping my hands secure, he lowers his face to my chest, dragging his nose along my skin, breathing me in.

I swear I can feel him stealing my soul with every breath he takes.

"Ben," I struggle to release my hands. "Let me touch you."