Always Alexandra.
Aurelio gave his terms. She stays. She works. She's mine to protect. It's not a blessing. It's barely an acknowledgment. But in Aurelio's language, it's as close to real approval as I'll ever get.
Goddamn…the way she looked this morning. Tangled in my sheets, marked by my mouth, her body soft and heavy with sleep. The way she pressed back into me when my thumb traced circles on her stomach. The small, desperate sound she made when I kissed the back of her neck.
I've been hard for an hour. Since the moment I walked away from her, if I'm honest. The briefing with Aurelio, the security audit, the terminal sweeps, all of it conducted with the memory of her body burning in the back of my skull. Every time I closed my eyes, even for a second, I felt her. The heat of her skin. The way her back arches when I put my mouth on her throat. The sound of my name in her mouth, broken and breathless.
I've had women. Plenty of them. Quick, efficient, transactional encounters that scratched an itch and left nothing behind. That's what I knew. That's what I was built for. Use the body, quiet the mind, move on.
Alexandra is nothing like that.
With her, the quiet doesn't come after. It comes during. When I'm inside her, when her hands are in my hair and her legs are locked around me and she's saying my name like it's the only word she knows, my mind doesn't go silent. It goes still. Perfectly, completely still. Like the world stops spinning and holds its breath, for us.
I've never had that before. Not with anyone. Not even with Dahlia.
And the wanting, the constant, grinding, insatiable wanting, doesn't diminish after I've had her. It doubles. Last night should have taken the edge off. Instead, it sharpened it. I woke up this morning with her in my arms, and I wanted her again immediately. Wanted to roll her onto her back and push inside her and watch her face change, watch those grey eyes go dark and unfocused, watch her mouth fall open around a sound only I get to hear.
I wanted that at 5 AM. I want it now, at 3 AM, walking through dark corridors with the taste of stale coffee in my mouth and compromised security network on my shoulders.
I want her constantly. It's becoming a problem.
I open the door to my quarters.
She's fallen asleep at the desk.
Her head rests on her folded arms, documents spread beneath her like a paper pillow. The pen is still in her hand, ink smudged on her fingers. One leg is tucked beneath her, the other stretched out, bare foot resting on the floor. She's wearing my shirt again. The one from last night. It's ridden up in her sleep, exposing the curve of her hip, the dimple at the base of her spine, and a strip of black cotton that is either the world's most practical underwear or a deliberate attempt to destroy me.
I stand in the doorway and look at her, and every wall I rebuilt during the briefing with Aurelio comes down like wet cardboard.
I should let her sleep. She's exhausted. The analysis has been eating her alive, and she needs rest more than she needs anything I'm thinking about doing right now.
I should let her sleep.
I walk to the desk instead. Crouch beside her. Push the hair from her face, my fingers trailing along her jaw, her neck, the exposed line of her shoulder where the shirt has slipped.
Her eyes open. Hazy at first, then sharp. Focused. On me.
"Hi," she murmurs.
"Aurelio approved it."
She blinks, sleep clearing. "Approved what?"
"Us."
The word stills between us. Small. Enormous. She sits up slowly, and the shirt slides further off her shoulder. I don't look away. I'm done looking away.
"His terms?" she asks.
"You stay. You work. I protect you." I reach out and trace the line of her collarbone with my thumb. Her breath catches. "And if it compromises my ability to do my job, he removes you from the compound."
"Removes me how?"
"Somewhere safe. Away from here. Away from me."
Her hand comes up and catches mine, pressing it flat against her chest. I feel her heartbeat, hammering against my palm.
"Then we don't let it compromise anything," she says.
