Where was I going with this? Alex and I…well, we had tried once, at that dreadful party, but it was years ago, and we were different people now. On paper, when I stripped away his competitiveness and jealousy, I was left with an Alex I liked.
I didn’t see that Alex all that often, but still.
I took a step closer to Alex. “What kind of a man would you be for me?”
His expression shifted. No longer bewildered and angry, the heat transformed into something else. Those eyes pulled me a step closer. My thigh touched his knee.
Alex swallowed and looked up at me. “I would be the best kind of man for you.” I watched his Adam’s apple as it moved, the sharpness of it making me want to trail a finger over it.
“You don’t fart lilacs,” I whispered.
He didn’t even giggle. “How do you know?”
“Then you do an excellent job at hiding them. How about the cum thing?”
Alex’s hand slid off his thigh and onto mine, a firm touch gripping the back of my knee.
“I hate to report that it doesn’t taste like treacle.”
I raised an eyebrow and then I gave in, trailing a finger over his throat.
He swallowed hard.
I let that finger trail back up the side of his neck, spreading my hand out. My thumb slid up underneath his chin, and the skin was soft and smooth. Alex wasn’t a hairy man, something I found attractive. Ion, being Romanian, had had to work hard to maintain his smooth skin.
My eyes traveled up to his lips, and my thumb followed. His mouth opened for me, and I traced slowly over his bottom lip.
Alex squeezed the back of my thighs hard. “Nikki…” His voice came out rusty and gritty.
I met his eyes, those dark eyes full of an intensity I’d never seen before. Alex and I were all about being fierce with each other, but here he was open, vulnerable.
Bending down, I pressed my mouth to his, closing my eyes. His grip tightened again, a sharp inhale draining out of both of us.
And then we were kissing; hot, wet, open kisses. This was nothing like that first kiss ages ago. This kiss gave that kiss a wedgie and shoved it in a locker. This was Kissing 401: How Alex Boyd Brought on the Rise and Fall of Nikki Kozlova.
Alex was agoodkisser.Wewere good together. With just the right amount of tongue, our mouths synchronized perfectly.
His hands slid around to the inside of my thighs, tugging me gently. I let him pull me over him, sliding my knees up onto the mattress on either side of his hips. Alex ran his hands up my thigh, groaning when he found how far up my dress had risen with the spreading of my knees.
But we didn’t stop. My hands were in Alex’s hair, one of his hands pressed on my back, encouraging me to get closer to him, my full front to his, my breasts pressed hard against his chest, and the hem of my tight dress digging into my thighs. Impatiently I broke away, Alex’s mouth following mine, his eyes dazed. I hiked my dress up to my waist, and pressed closer, widening the stance.
Alex grunted his approval and pulled me to him again. And then we were down, down, down on the bed, thrusting and pressing and grinding…
And then the drums beat.
We broke apart, panting our own rhythm, staring at each other wide-eyed.
“Dinner,” I said inelegantly.
“Right.”
He made no effort to move, and our mouths were only millimeters away from each other.
I dropped down, unable to resist. This time our kisses were softer, our mouths closed.
In between, Alex remarked again, “Dinner.”
I sighed. “Is that your way of telling me to get off?”
