He unravels the towel around my chest and his thumbs finding my nipples hard and ready for him. His touch is powerful but not hurtful. The hold he has on me is one of a man claiming what is his, what he knows is his reason to never be alone ever again.
I place my hands around his neck, my fingers skimming through the golden strands of his hair, pulling them gently. This is my way of letting him know, I will never let him go.
He pulls me toward my bed and I try to stop him before his body hits the frame and the bed lets out a frighteningly loud squeak. Alexander hops up quickly and turns around to look at the offending mattress.
I fall to the floor on my knees and pull him down by the hem of his pants. “Old house. Old beds.” When he was on his knees as well, I start undressing him. “Ever make love to a girl on the floor?” I ask and then quickly add, “Scratch that. I don’t want to know. I’m sure the answer is yes.”
Alexander unbuttons his shirt, his perfectly sculpted chest and well-defined stomach glistening in the moonlight coming through the window. I admired this body in Capri, at a time when I never believed it would be mine.
“Emma,” he says when his shirt is freed from his body, and I can finally touch his velvet skin. I look up and see his gorgeous face looking down at me. I am naked but he isn’t looking anywhere but directly into my brown eyes. “Everything I do with you is a first. Yes, I’ve been with a woman on the floor before, but you are the first woman I have ever made love to. You are the first woman I have ever been in love with. So everything I do with you is brand new because it’s with you.”
Be damned the first love and be damned the second love.
I am the last girl he will ever love.
And I am so breaking the house rules tonight.
chapter THIRTY
Knock, Knock.
“Hmmhmm?”
“Emma, breakfast is ready.”
“Okay.”
“And, Alexander . . . Bob is taking you to the airport.”
I shoot up like a jack-in-the-box but am pulled back down by the strong arms of Alexander Asher.
“Thank you, Pam,” he says and then nuzzles himself back into my neck.
I push him off and sit up. My voice is in a harsh whisper. “You have to go. My mom just caught you in my room.” This is so embarrassing. My mom knows I had sex with a man in my room.
He is laughing into his pillow and trying to pull me back down. “Baby, damage is done. They’re gonna have to get used to me staying in here when we visit.”
Leaning on my elbow, I glance down at the perfect cut, masculine jawline that has a bit of scruff coming in. “You want to stay here when we visit my parents?”
His hand takes the hair that is falling in front of my face, places it behind my ear and then rubs my earlobe with his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, I like it here.”
“You like the fact there is one bathroom?”
“Yes.” His perfect white teeth gleam in the sunlight coming through the window.
“And that there are six cats living here and everything gets hair on it.”
“No, I hate that part. But I do like being where you grew up. This room, it’s a piece of you.”
“Even the squeaky bed?”
Alexander smiles brighter and pulls me in, cradling his hands around my behind. “I love the squeaky bed.” As if on cue, the bed makes a loud noise and we freeze in place, laughing into each other’s necks.
Alexander suddenly turns very serious and pulls back to get a good look at my face. I tilt my head and wait for him to ask a question.
“Did you enjoy growing up here?” he asks. I have no idea where the question is coming from.
Taking in the room, I look around at the yellow walls, decorated with the awards I won at recitals and concerts. A picture of the Eiffel Tower over my dresser and boudoir-type mannequin bust in the corner where I hang my costume jewelry. Even as a teenager I was trying to exude class when I should have been drooling over boys in movie posters and running silly like Leah.
