She goes still at my touch, her eyes lifting to meet mine. My fingers linger at her jaw, tracing the delicate curve. Her pulse jumps beneath my thumb—a rapid flutter that matches the acceleration of my own heartbeat.
"Alexander," she whispers, and the sound of my name on her lips is intoxicating.
I should step back. I should make an excuse and leave. I should remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea.
I do none of those things.
Instead, I close the distance between us, my mouth finding hers with a gentleness that surprises me. Her lips are soft, yielding, her breath catching in a way that sends heat spiraling through my body. She tastes like mint and something sweeter—perhaps the tropical fruit from lunch.
For a moment, she's frozen, and I wonder if I've misread everything. Then her hands move to my chest, not to push me away but to steady herself as she rises slightly on her toes, pressing closer. The kiss deepens, her lips parting beneath mine, allowing me to taste her more fully.
My hands find her waist, pulling her against me. She curls her fingers into my shirt—completely unrestrained and eager. Nothing like the practiced seduction I'm accustomed to.
My hand slides down her side and begin slowly pulling up the hem of her dress. My fingers just lightly skim the bare skin of her thigh. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat—half gasp, half moan—that nearly undoes me.
But as my hand moves higher up her thigh, I feel her tense slightly. Her movements, while enthusiastic, have a tentative quality that tugs at my awareness. She kisses with passion but not technique—responding to my lead rather than asserting her own desires. And suddenly, pieces click together: her nervousness, her guarded reactions, the lack of practiced seduction.
I pull back slightly, my breathing ragged. "Camille," I say, my voice rougher than I intend. "You have done this before, right?"
Her eyes widen, a deeper flush spreading across her cheeks. She bites her lower lip—that habitual gesture that's been driving me to distraction since the moment I met her.
"Not... exactly," she admits. "I'm not... that is, I haven't..."
Understanding dawns like a bucket of cold water on my crotch. "You're a virgin."
It's not a question, but she nods anyway, her eyes never leaving mine. "Does that... change things?"
"Yes," I say quickly, forcing myself to put space between us. "It changes everything."
"Why?" There's a hint of defiance in her voice now. "I know what I want."
My thumb traces her cheekbone. "Because you deserve better than a hotel room in the middle of a work trip. Because your first time shouldn't be with someone who's so much older than you. Because—" I pause, honesty forcing its way past my usual barriers. "Because I don't do commitment, Camille.”
She frowns slightly. "What does that mean?"
I step back, creating distance that feels both necessary and painful. "It means you think you want this now, but you have no idea what you're getting into. With me. With what I would expect."
"So you're making my decisions for me?" Her chin lifts, challenge flashing in her eyes.
"No," I correct her. "I'm making mine."
I move toward the door, each step an exercise in restraint. "Let’s pretend that this never happened."
"And if I don't want to pretend?" she calls after me, her voice steadier than I expected.
I pause in the doorway, allowing myself one last look at her—flushed and beautiful, lips still reddened from my kiss, eyes bright with a mixture of desire and frustration.
"That’s not an option," I say forcefully.
I close the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I gather my composure. This has become far more complicated than I anticipated.
Chapter 6
Alexander
Iwake with her taste still on my lips. The feel of her body pressed against mine.
I've had countless women, yet it's this one—this innocent, untouched one—who infiltrates my dreams and leaves me hard and aching in the morning light. I should be reviewing contract terms and construction timelines. Instead, I'm lying here, replaying the feel of her skin beneath my fingers and wondering what she'd sound like if I pushed her past that initial hesitation into pure pleasure.
