Page 132 of Lucky Shot

I smile quietly and try to swallow over the lump in my throat. “This is too much, Alexander.” It’s his smile that flickers now. It’s his expression that softens. “All too much. You’ve . . . spoiled me. Between all the new clothes—”

“I can take them all back. I have no problem with you walking around naked if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“We seem to do plenty of the naked part.” I wink. “And the skincare stuff. The books and puzzle magazines. Now all this. It’s just too much. You’re spoiling me and—”

“And you’ve never been spoiled before.” He shrugs. “Sue me if it feels good to take care of you like no one ever has.”

Normally I’d be offended by the implication that I’m poor and have always done without, but there’s genuine sincerity to his words, a genuineness to the smile on his lips that lets me know the gifts are given with the best of intentions.

“Thank you. I—”

He walks forward and links his fingers with mine before bringing my hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to it. “Stop thanking me. Maybe I wanted to do it. Maybe it feels good seeing you happy and without the stress weighing down your shoulders. Maybe you bring out a side of me that I don’t quite understand but that I kind of like. And maybe I like seeing you blush and smile and want to kiss me as a means of appreciation.”

I bark out a laugh and shake my head and do just that—lean in and brush my lips against his. The tenderness in the kiss undoes me. It strips me bare when I’m fully clothed and that’s nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

It’s heady.

It’s sexy.

It’s terrifying, but I’m all here for it.

“Hardy. This is all too much.”

“Stop say—”

Ding. Dong.

The bell on the penthouse has him turning his head to the door and then looking back at me. Closely. I can see when it registers, and the question I thought he’d already ask is now asked. “Wait. Why are you dressed like that?”

“It’s Suri.”

“What about Suri?”

“We’re going downstairs for drinks. At the lounge on the other side of the building.” Hardy looks at me like a hurt puppy dog. I didn’t expect that. “She figured I might feel cooped up and want to get out of the house. She promised to keep me in line and—”

“Oh. Are you okay with that? I mean . . .”

“I thought we’ve established over the past few nights that I’m just fine with physical activity.”

His grin is lightning quick, and his eyes fire with desire. “Point taken.”

“You can come with us if you want?” Never in a million years did I think I’d be asking Alexander Hardy to go out for drinks with Suri and me.

“Nah. Go. Have fun. I’ll stay here and work on my foosball game.”

“Hardy. Now I feel horrible.”

“Go. It’s fine.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “Have fun.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Hardy

There are only so many times a man can play foosball with himself before he loses his dignity.

And I’m about there.

I wander around my penthouse aimlessly. What the hell have I become? The guys invited me to go out with them. Again. To go sit in a bar and throw back a few but that’s honestly the last thing I want to do—sit in a bar, stare at other women, and wish for the one who was back at my place.