by Layne, Ivy
She was mine. I moved inside her, driving her to the peak and over, feeling her tight heat clasp around me, her cries filling my ear.
It wasn’t enough. I drove her up again and again until I couldn’t take it anymore and spilled inside her, a long-vacant piece of my soul complete, knowing that Alice, at long last, finally belonged to me.
Chapter Fifteen
Cooper
I woke to an empty bed, coming fully alert in a blink.
Alice. Where was Alice?
A glance at the clock told me it was later than either of us usually slept. Not a surprise given that we hadn't found sleep until well after midnight. Add in the champagne she’d drunk, and I had to wonder—why the hell was Alice up at all?
I caught the rustle of taffeta somewhere outside my room. The hallway? Rolling to my feet, I yanked on my discarded boxers as I strode to the door.
All I could think about was Alice. Find Alice and bring her back to bed. That was where my critical analysis began and ended.
She froze when I entered the living room, her dress on and mostly zipped, crinolines bundled under her arm in a cloud of black tulle. Her face bare of makeup, hair tangled, she looked impossibly young. And exhausted.
Dark circles marred her eyes, the usually clear blue dull, bloodshot. She should be in bed.
“Alice, what are you doing?”
She winced at the sound of my voice. “Nothing. Nothing, Cooper. Go back to bed. I'm just—I just have to go home and take a shower. Change. You know.”
No, I didn't know. I had a perfectly good shower here. I opened my mouth to tell her that, and stopped, really seeing her. The fragility in the set of her shoulders. The way she squinted against the bright light flooding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The vulnerable bend of her neck, her head tilting forward as if it weighed too much to hold up.
“What's wrong?” I asked, my voice low. “Too much champagne?”
“No. A little, maybe. I just—” She wrapped her arm tighter around her front, squeezing the mass of crinolines against her, brow furrowed. The more I watched her, the more I realized something was wrong.
She wasn’t just tired. This wasn't just too much champagne. Was she still angry?
Thinking about the way I’d punched Griffen and thrown her over my shoulder in the middle of the ballroom, I was the one who winced. It had all seemed like a great idea at the time.
That's what I got for letting the devil on my shoulder and the caveman in my gut conspire against me. I knew better. Alice asked me to keep things quiet, and I deliberately sabotaged her in the most public way possible.
Fuck. I thought she’d forgiven me. Maybe I was wrong.
Alice bent slowly and picked up one of her shoes from beneath the couch. Eyes half-closed, she tucked it into the bundle in her arms.
“I just want to go lay down. Can you help me find my other shoe?”
I joined her in the search, trying to remember what had happened to it. One shoe she'd thrown at my head, the other I’d caught. I didn't know which one she'd already found.
I needed to find that shoe before she did, needed it as leverage to keep her here long enough to find out what was going on.
This wounded, fragile Alice wasn’t the woman I'd made love to the night before, the woman who'd imperiously demanded I strip for her, who'd squeezed my ass as I carried her down the hall.
For that matter, she wasn’t the woman who'd winged her high heels at my head either. I didn't recognize this Alice, but I needed to. If I was the reason behind it, I had to know so I could fix it.
I spotted a spike heel sticking out from beneath a console table and snagged it. “Got it.”
Alice took a step, reaching for it, but I held it above her head, examining her tired, drawn face.
“Not yet,” I said. When she dropped her hand at her side without so much as a scowl, I knew something was very wrong.
Wanting to pull her into my arms, I asked softly, “Are you angry? About last night?”
Bracing, I waited. Alice started to shake her head and froze abruptly, wincing again. “I should be,” she muttered, “but I'm not. I think you fucked the mad out of me.”
A surprised laugh burst from my lips. Alice winced again at the sound. I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face. “Good to know that works. I'll keep it in mind for the next time I piss you off.”
“I like how you assume there’ll be a next time,” she said, reaching for her shoe again. I held it behind my back.
“Just playing the odds.”
She gave a harrumph, but that was it. This was not my Alice.
Changing tactics, I handed her the shoe. Before she could step away, I was there, closing my arms around her and tucking her into my chest, the pile of fabric and shoes between us.
Now that I knew she wasn’t pissed at me, I didn't have to worry she’d drive that spike heel in my eye. Alice pushed back, and reluctantly, I loosened my hold. The shoes and crinolines fell to the floor and Alice melted into me, pressing her forehead against my chest.
The skin of her back was warm and silky, her forehead cold and clammy. Bending, my lips brushed the top of her hair.
“Baby, what's wrong? If you’re not pissed at me—how many glasses of champagne did you have last night? I counted four. A lot for a pixie like you, but not enough to make you this miserable.”
“I'm not a pixie,” she argued. Her disgruntled response was heartening. I think she secretly liked it, but Alice always got annoyed when I called her a pixie. With her blunt cut bob and small frame, the name was a perfect fit.
I tightened my arms around her. “You're my pixie. Tell me what's wrong.”
Hiding her face, she mumbled something, her lips moving against my skin, her words inaudible.
“Alice, come on, just tell me what's wrong so I can fix it.”
Louder, more clearly, “You can't fix this.”
“Then tell me who I have to kill to make it better.”
I was mostly kidding. Mostly.
Alice sighed. Lifting her face, her eyes oddly shy for my brazen girl, she said, “I have cramps and a migraine, and I just want to curl up and die, okay?”
Fuck. I hate problems I can't solve.
Now that the truth was out, Alice leaned back, trying to break my hold. Fuck that. I couldn't get rid of the migraine or the cramps, but that didn't mean I couldn't do anything to help.
I kept my arms around her, rubbing a thumb up and down her spine. “Poor Alice. What do you need?”
Mulishly, she said, “I need to go home.”
Leaning back to see her face, I asked, “Do you need to go home to get stuff? Or do you need to go home because you feel like shit and you just want to curl up in bed until you feel better?”
“Both,” she said, her chin still set in that stubborn line.
“What do you take? Do you have a prescription for the migraines?”
“No. They’re not bad enough to need a prescription. I don't have to lock myself in a dark closet or anything. It just hurts like a bitch and it’s harder to handle when they come with the cramps.”
“Ibuprofen? Do you need a heating pad?”
Alice stared up at me dumbfounded. “When I get them both together I take over-the-counter migraine stuff. I have some downstairs. No heating pad.”
Stepping over the bundle of clothes on the floor, I turned her, gently shoving her back toward my bedroom. “Bath or shower?”
“Cooper, I—”
“Bath or shower?”
“Shower,” she said, finally.
Arriving in my bathroom, I turned on the shower. “What do you need from downstairs?”
Alice let out a long breath, finally realizing I wasn't giving up. “Clothes, I guess. The migraine pills from the cabinet in my kitchen. Next to where I keep th
e Band-Aids. And there's a bag under my sink with daisies on it—” An embarrassed slide of her eyes to the side. “It has all the, uh, stuff I need.”
Kissing her on the forehead, I said, “Take a shower. I'll be back before you’re out.”
I left Alice in the steamy bathroom and headed for her apartment after a quick pit stop in my bedroom to pull on something other than boxers.
I found the migraine medicine exactly where she'd said it would be. Ditto for the cloth bag covered in daisies. I grabbed a gym bag from her closet and threw them in, along with a bottle of lotion from her bathroom counter, her face cream, hairbrush, a stick of deodorant, and a few changes of clothes. Comfortable stuff she could curl up in.
She was still in the shower when I got back. I cracked the door, setting the bag on the counter, not at all reassured by her weak, “Thanks.”
Shit. Alice was a whirlwind, a bundle of energy. I knew she suffered from bad headaches occasionally, even knew they were related to her cycle. We’d worked together for nine years, and I'm an observant guy. Particularly where Alice is concerned. Eventually, I’d figured it out.
They weren’t usually this bad. Then again, most of the time the headache wasn’t on top of too little sleep and too much champagne.
Leaving Alice in peace for the moment, I pulled up a food delivery app on my phone. If she wasn't hungry now, she would be eventually. It would take a while, but I ordered from Annabelle's. Breakfast sandwiches, pastries, and a mocha.
I'd never noticed her avoiding caffeine when she had headaches, and chocolate seemed like a good call when she felt like shit. Eventually, she emerged from the bathroom smelling like fresh fruit, her hair combed straight, skin shining from the face cream, but still too pale.
Chapter Sixteen
Cooper
The bottle of migraine meds in hand, she headed for the kitchen. I stopped her and pointed her in the direction of the couch.
“I ordered breakfast. Coffee. You don't have to eat it until you’re ready. Do you want juice to wash down those pills?”
“Please,” she said in a near whisper, sinking into the couch. Even recovering from that bump on the head she hadn't been this weak. Loopy from the pain pills, but not like this. Her skin looked paper-thin, her voice hollow.
I got the juice and sat beside her on the couch, propping my feet on the coffee table. When she set down the empty glass, I pulled her into me. She let out a sigh, tension leaking from her body as she relaxed.
Pressing the balls of my thumbs to her temples, I rubbed. “Better or worse?”
With a throaty groan, the first sound she'd made that sounded like her, she said, “Better.”
“Just close your eyes. Go to sleep if you want. Food will be here soon.”
She curled into me, burrowing her head into my chest, her arm thrown around my waist. I settled a blanket over us, combing my fingers through her wet hair, watching as she fell asleep, the knot in my gut loosening as the line between her brows smoothed away. The migraine pills must be working.
Was it this bad every month? If it was, she’d be taking the day off from now on.
She'd argue, but I wouldn't listen. Alice was tough. She was a smartass who gave as good as she got. It didn't take much to imagine her in this kind of pain, hiding it so no one would know, going home alone to an empty apartment with no one to take care of her.
Even when she'd been married her husband had been gone most of the time, an airline pilot who made no effort to arrange his schedule so he could be with the wife he barely noticed. Since her divorce, there'd been no one.
Now she had me, and I would do everything in my power to keep Alice from ever feeling pain again.
She slept hard, not waking until I eased out from under her to answer the door for our food delivery. Blinking up at me, her blue eyes adorably misted with sleep, I saw the dark circles had faded some, her skin less pale and drawn.
“How's your head?” I asked, handing her a croissant breakfast sandwich loaded with bacon, eggs, and melting cheese. She took the sandwich eagerly, taking a bite, letting out a moan that had my cock stirring. She waited to speak until she’d swallowed. “Better. Not gone, but better.
“Cramps?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her flush. I knew she didn't want me to ask, but I did it anyway, partly because I wanted to know how she was feeling, but mostly because it was hard to fluster Alice. I loved the pink in her cheeks when she was embarrassed and annoyed at the same time.
With a huff, she said, “Those are better, too. They were early. Took me by surprise. I guess I should be glad. Early is better than late, right?”
I laughed. “I won't argue that. Where periods are concerned, early is better than late.”
Just like that my brain threw me a twist.
What if late was better? What if we wanted her to be late? Slow down, Coop, I told myself. One thing at a time.
A shrug of her shoulder. “I wasn't expecting it, and then the champagne and the headache… Normally I'm on top of this stuff, but somebody's been distracting me lately.” She shot a smirk in my direction and took another bite of the breakfast sandwich.
I'd take Alice any way she came, but it was better to see her getting her spirit back. We finished our late breakfast. I cleared the trash away while Alice pulled up a movie on the TV, and we settled into the couch the way we'd been before, Alice curled into me, my fingers sifting through her hair.
As the opening music of the movie filled the room, Alice looked up at me, ignoring the screen. “So, everybody knows about us now?”
“Yes. Everybody knows.”
“And this is a thing. A serious thing. Like, we’re together?” She wrinkled her nose up at me. “I feel too old to say boyfriend.”
I knew what she meant. We weren’t in high school. The words boyfriend and girlfriend were too light. Insubstantial. Transient.
I told her the truth. “What you are is mine. And I'm yours. That's all anybody needs to know. All you need to know.”
She said nothing to this, just stared at me so hard I imagined I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. “You know if this doesn't work out I can't stay at the company. You know that, right?”
“I know. And since I don't think we can run the place without you, that should tell you how serious I am.”
“Yeah,” she said, “I guess it does.”
I thought about making the offer I had last night, to let things go back to how they’d been before.
I was almost positive she wouldn't take me up on it.
I still couldn't make myself say the words.
She’d had her chance to walk. I wouldn’t give her another.
Alice must have agreed because that was the end of the conversation. She snuggled into me, her hand on my leg, her head on my chest, and we watched the movie. Later, we ordered dinner, Alice falling asleep in my arms as I watched a game on TV. If I could have erased her pain and added sex, it would have been the perfect day. As it was, it was pretty damn close.
The next week unfolded like a dream. Sunday we spent curled up on the couch, watching movies and talking. For once I didn’t so much as open my laptop. Nothing in the office was more interesting than having Alice all to myself.
After nine years working together, you’d think we would have run out of things to say. Not a chance.
My mother called repeatedly. I sent every call to voicemail. She’d knocked on the door early Sunday morning. Alice and I pretended we didn’t hear it. Whatever she had to say about that scene in the ballroom, I didn't want to hear it.
It was none of her business, and that was how it would stay.
I managed to behave myself in the office. Mostly. Word about my carrying Alice away from the party had spread to the few employees who’d missed it. Everyone was watching to see what would happen next.
I wasn’t going to
push my luck. Once everyone realized there'd be no fireworks in the front office, they lost interest. Thursday morning, I woke before my alarm, pulled from a dream of fucking Alice to the reality of her hot, wet mouth on my cock.
When she climbed on top of me naked, her eyes sparkling and her breasts swaying, it felt like my birthday and Christmas all rolled up into one. My hands closed over her hips. As she stroked her wet heat over me, I managed to gasp, “It's over?”
She gave me a wicked grin. “It's over. And I missed this.” Her hand closed around my cock, guiding me inside her as she sank down and rocked me inside.
I filled my hands with her breasts, teasing her nipples, thrusting up into her, my eyes absorbing everything. The arch of her back. Her teeth sinking into her lip. The flush of her skin.
The sound of her crying out my name as she came on my cock was enough to shove me over the edge.
Alice collapsed on top of me, breathing hard, her mouth against my neck, and I thought my life couldn't possibly get any better.
That should have been the sign right there.
Just when I thought my life was perfect, I should have known everything was about to go straight to hell.
Chapter Seventeen
Alice
Champagne, again.
I took a sip, a small one, noting that this was much better than the champagne at Lacey's party. But then, Jacob Winters seemed determined to mark his marriage with the best of everything, a reflection of the way he felt about his bride.
From across the room, I watched as they stood arm in arm, both glowing with happiness, the smile on Jacob's face so wide I thought his cheeks must hurt. Every once in a while, his eyes dropped to Abigail’s face, and I knew there was no treasure in the world he valued so much as her.
I didn't know Jacob Winters that well, only from his visits to the office, but he'd been friends with the Sinclairs since birth. In all the years since I'd met him, I'd never seen him like this.
Jacob was known as a shark: icy, determined, and ruthless. None of that was evident on his wedding day.