I grabbed my briefcase.
“I had a last-minute meeting come up,” I lied to Anthym, “and will be out of the office the rest of the day.”
I got in my car, not sure where I was driving. I headed out of town for a while, sitting in silence. When I realized I was heading towardhishouse, I made an abrupt U-turn and headed back into town.
“It was because Lexi interrupted the Tuesday lunch,” I said to myself. “That’s why you’re acting strange.”
I needed to go for a swim in the cold water of the pool on my terrace, a particular luxury in Manhattan.
Count your blessings!
I was going to burn all those notes.
The penthouse was silent when I walked in. I took off my suit jacket then loosened the tie, removed it from around my neck, and threw it over the back of a lone chair. Then I undid the top few buttons of my dress shirt and unfastened the cuff links and expensive watch, feeling like I was suffocating. I kicked off the constricting dress shoes, removed the belt, then headed into the formal salon dominated by the large curving staircases that led to the upper floors.
But that’s not what drew my eyes when I walked in.
There by the window, sprawled out on a large beach towel, her red hair fanned out, was Lexi. Sunglasses on, headphones in, arms sprawled up behind her, one leg propped up—the curving thigh begged me to run my hands along it up the triangle of fabric between her legs, up to the swell of her tits under the bright-blue bikini.
My breathing was harsh; the hot arousal coursed through me. All I wanted was her—to kiss her, take her mouth, count every freckle with my tongue, spread her legs, rip the fabric of the skimpy bathing suit, and bury myself inside of her.
She’s here wearing hardly anything in my home. She must want me to take her, fuck her, make her scream in pleasure, never let her leave.
I never wanted anything as much as I wanted Lexi in that moment.
And I hated myself for it.
I let the hatred and loathing turn into rage because that was safer than this desire.
Then I let it loose.
I stalked over to her and bent down to rip the headphones off her head and scream, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
23
LEXI
When I lived in Florida, I would go to the beach every day. Even when I had to bike five miles to the beach in college, I still went. I needed the ocean—I was like the Little Mermaid without the luxurious mane of red hair or the royal husband.
In Manhattan, there was no beach, at least not one that wasn’t more than two hours away by bus. Not to mention it was expensive to go out to the beach. Sure, you could go to the “beach” on the Hudson River, but it was not the same as being on the ocean with all that raw, natural power and the hypnotic sounds of the waves.
The only way I could have my ocean time was here in Grayson’s penthouse by the east-facing window. On a clear day you could see the ocean on the horizon.
When I knew he was going to be safely contained in a meeting, I would come here, spread out my towel, play my ocean sounds, and sunbathe, pretending I was at the beach.
I was half asleep, dreaming that I was lying in the sand, the sun warming me. I was going to lie here a little longer then take a swim in the warm waves.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a man was yelling at me.
“This is a public beach,” I murmured as my headphones were ripped off my head.
“Help! Police!” I shrieked, sunglasses askew on my face.
I pulled them off just in time to see Grayson leap backward.
“Jiminy Cricket.” I clapped a hand to my chest—my almost bare, bikini-clad chest. “Soooo … Obviously this is a very awkward situation but I just want you to know that this is not what it looks like.”
“Why are you wearing that?” he demanded from across the room. He was half undressed, barefoot, hair a little messy, breathing ragged.
