“Alec! You just spanked me,” she insisted, her bottom tingling and still quite warm.
“I’m well aware.” His smirk was pure sin.
She stared at him, incredulous. “Don’t you have something to say? In return?”
“If you’re expecting me to be sorry for taking you over my knee, you’ll be disappointed.” He pulled her close—dominance quiet but unmistakable. “And for future reference? That’s what I mean by clearing the air.”
Before she could protest further—or call him a caveman—he stole another kiss. The sweep of his tongue igniting her from lips to toes. Heat rippled through every inch of her, the spanking forgotten beneath the wildfire he lit in its place.
When he pulled away, she wasn’t sure how she stayed upright on knees that felt as limp as cooked spaghetti.
“I’ll see you at six,” he murmured against her lips. Then he was gone, leaving her doorway colder for it.
Emily staggered to the couch and collapsed onto it, fingers pressed to her mouth. His absolution—and the truth in his kiss—lifted a weight she’d carried for nearly a decade. For the first time in forever, she let herself hope good things were coming and might include him.
Chapter 8
As the convertible ate up the miles on A1A, late-spring air whipped through Emily’s hair. Salt, sunscreen, and something distinctly Alec—cedar with a whisper of citrus—wrapped around her. She tipped her face to the wind and let the knotted coil of tension loosen inside her. She’d never ridden in a convertible before and didn’t care how wild she looked when they got to wherever they were going. Taking Alec’s advice to live fully, she decided to let herself enjoy it.
“Newbie,” he teased, amusement warming his voice.
She glanced his way and grinned. “Does it show?”
“Maybe a little.” His eyes skimmed over her—warm, familiar affection catching fire for the briefest second, sending a slow curl of heat through her belly. Then it was gone, tucked neatly behind the easy smile she’d known half her life.
Not wanting to get ahead of herself—even if her body already had, Emily let her gaze drift around the interior of the Lexus. “Business must be good,” she said lightly.
“I bought it used,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s good enough for now. When I can trade up to a Bentley for two hundred grand—you’ll know I’ve made it.”
She blinked, unsure whether he was serious—until his grin flashed as he slowed to turn off Ocean Boulevard.
Emily laughed, though she couldn’t imagine spending that much on a house, let alone a car. Her rust-bucket Corolla had cost under ten thousand. A steak dinner meant a week’s worth of waffle-shift tips. He’d sprung for double that easily without batting an eye. They came from the same middle-class world, but their lives had split in opposite directions.
As they drove farther inland, the tourist traps and neon faded behind them, replaced by quiet streets and palms bending lazily in the evening breeze.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“My house,” he said simply.
They pulled into an upper-middle-class subdivision and stopped at a two-story Spanish-style house with neat hedges and warm stucco glowing in the last of the light.
“This is beautiful!” Emily breathed.
“I appreciate the quiet,” he said. “And there’s a great view with seventy-five feet of lake frontage.” His pride was subtle but unmistakable.
He shut off the engine and was out of the car while she was still absorbing the fact that Alec owned a house in a neighborhood she’d bet money was governed by a homeowner’s association. When he opened the door and helped her out, his fingers curled around hers with certainty. He kept it as he led her not to the front entrance but down a brick walkway skirting the house.
“If we hurry, we can catch the last of the sunset over the water.” The glint of excitement from earlier threaded into his voice. It was infectious, and she hurried to keep up with his longer strides.
Beyond the sloping yard, the lake lay still as glass. The sun had sunk below the horizon, but streaks of orange and pink clung to the sky. Alec’s arms slid around her from behind. She leaned into him, fitting beneath his chin.
For a long moment, they didn’t speak. The sky did all the talking.
“I’d do everything possible to be here in time for this every night,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if she meant the sunset or being held by him.
He took it as the former, and said, “I don’t make it every night. When I do, I grab a beer and watch from the second-floor balcony.”
Drawn by the sound of gentle splashing, she turned. “There’s a fountain in the middle of the lake,” she said, delighted.
