“For the champagne or noticing how beautiful you are?”
I down the entire glass of champagne he hands me, and he just grins. “Would you like another?”
“Yeah, we should go inside.” He looks me up and down and stares at my legs. He takes a step forward, and he’s close—close enough to kiss. It’s cold as shit, and his scent is faint, but I can tell it’s masculine and perfect.
“Are you cold? I could help with that.”
Oh fuck, do I want this big huge man to wrap me in his arms and warm me right the fuck on up. He smirks down at me, and isn’t it just a huge blow to my ego that he knows exactly what effect he has on me.
“You could get me another glass of champagne.” He rubs his chin. His beard is short right now, and it’s dark and speckled with gray.It’s hot.
He’s hot. Is it hot out here now?
“Are we going inside, or should I bring it out here?” he asks. He looks back down at my legs, and now I’m wet. Thank god it’s cold and I’m not an Omega or else he would know my whole wet panty situation right now. “I’ll be right back,” he says to me, taking off his jacket and handing it to me. He looks like he wants to do more but doesn’t.
He re-enters the house, and I wrap myself in his jacket, his scent permeated in the soft material, and I sigh at the scent. It doesn’t make me lose control like an Omega scent might, but it feels comforting and warm nonetheless.
I hug myself, and the last two flutes of champagne hit, my skin buzzing and a sense of easygoingness flowing through me. It’s definitely the drinks making me feel like a sex-crazed lunatic. If I had my wits about me, I definitely wouldn’t be basically drooling as he speaks to me. But I needed a few drinks tonight, I needed to shut my mind off. Expectations of who I’m supposed to be are starting to weigh on me, and well, the champagne helps me forget about all the shit piling up in my life.
There are a lot of expectations of what a surgeon should be like, and I don’t feel like I fit any of them. I know I’m smart, and I love helping people, but the job is more difficult than I imagined. What I need is an outlet, some place to let go and be me after spending so many hours meeting how others think I should act and portray myself.
Shut the fuck up, and enjoy tonight, I chastise myself as the door reopens. My body immediately responds to him as he holds an entire bottle of champagne up. “Thought the bottle might be the best route,” he says while taking a swig and handing me the bottle. The bottle where his perfect fucking man lips touched. I take an even bigger sip than he does. We both just stand there in the cold night for a few minutes, the silence between us comfortable yet thick with sexual tension. We haven’t had many conversations alone—we’re always in a group setting where I can ogle him but not act on it. Being alone with him feels different, charged in a way that I’m not used to.
It’s the champagne, it’s got to be the champagne. I take another sip, because what else am I supposed to do, open my mouth instead and tell him how I want to climb him like a tree but that’s all? I can’t handle a relationship right now, and as flirty as Alexi is, I don’t think that’s what he’s looking for. I’m pretty sure he had his ho phase a while ago. I lick my lips, liking that he’s older. All of the men—Beta men—I’ve dated before have been my age.
“That dress is something,” he says, glancing down at me and looking at my legs that are likely to freeze off.
“It is, isn’t it?” I say doing a little twirl and holding the bottle steady. He grins at me, and having his full attention on me feels more intoxicating than all this champagne does in this moment. I swallow thickly and turn my head toward the house.
The noise in the house is loud, and I can hear every number of the countdown. They’re at the number five when I hand the bottle back to Alexi.
I’m not sure if it’s all the champagne bubbles, but when I hear the cheers of happy New Year inside of the house, I abandon all doubts. I tug on Alexi’s tight blue dress shirt and crash his lips to mine. He doesn’t hesitate, his hands cradling my face as he kisses me. Alexi doesn’t hold back; he moans into my mouth, and his tongue works against mine. He isn’t rough with the kiss, more fervent than anything. My hands slide up his chest, and I can’t help but grip his soft hair. I know he likes it when he kisses me harder and one of his hands slides down my back to grip my ass, hitching his massive thigh between my legs.
I’ve never been kissed like this before. Like I’m all consuming and Alexi will never get enough. Like I need this kiss more than I need to breathe, like no kiss in my life will ever compare to the way this man is holding me right now.
It’s completely fucking terrifying.
“I want you so fucking bad,” he says, kissing my jaw and down my neck. His teeth graze along the column of my throat. “I’d make you feel so good,” he says, and damn if I don’t know that’s the fucking truth. “You should bemine.”
It’s the last word that breaks the spell, my buzz faltering out of me just as quickly as it started. I don’t belong to anyone; I don’t have time for anything serious or the emotional capacity for it. My career is my focus right now. There’s no room for someone who’s larger than life like Alexi.
I take a step back and look up into his deep brown eyes, handing him his jacket. “My stomach hurts, so I think I need to get home.”
“I’ll drive you,” he says.
“No, um… actually, I have a guest room here. I… thanks for the jacket.”
“Piper,” he says in an exacerbated sigh.
“Happy New Year, Alexi.”
“Happy New Year,” he says sadly, and when I see how disappointed he is, I realize I need to stay as far away from Alexi Bandnin as I physically can. I glance at him one last time. He’s the kind of man you settle down with, who consumes your whole life. I have to stay focused. My life has always been planned out for me, and I can’t let a man get between that.
Alexi is a one way ticket to domesticity I’m not ready for, so I do what I do best: I run away and don’t take another glance back.
CHAPTER1
10 MONTHS LATER
