by Kahlen Aymes
Angel.
He was still amazed that she’d stood in the middle of his living room, almost naked and so tempting. Not that women hadn’t dropped their clothes without so much as a touch from him before, but for this one to be so open about what she wanted, threw him for a loop. Her motive wasn’t to use sex to weasel her way into his life; it was just simple wanting on both of their parts. He’d almost died. She was so sexy and surprising. He was even more amazed at himself for bringing her back to his apartment in the first place and then feeling anxious when she fled like the fires of hell were on her heels.
He rolled over again. The bedclothes tangled angrily around his limbs as he kicked at them roughly, finally banishing the offending material to the floor in a heap next to his big king-sized bed. His Egyptian cotton sheets offered little comfort. A soft sheen of sweat shone on his body in the dawning sun through the window in his room, and he huffed in frustration.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “It’s hot in here.”
He put his hand over his eyes, one leg hanging halfway off of the bed, his foot flat on the floor. The whole night, after the call with Angel ended, had been a mixture of Heaven and Hell. Now, as Angel’s naked image rushed through his mind once again, his traitorous body stiffened and he groaned, bringing his hand to the offending member. While very exciting, at times, this obsession was annoying.
He had to get his head on straight and his body under control. For fuck’s sake, he was responsible for billions of dollars in assets, hundreds of jobs, and ran a huge corporation. Surely, he could get his cock under control. She was a woman, nothing more. He kept telling himself that over and over. Except he knew he was lying to himself.
Padding into the bathroom and scratching his bare stomach on the way, Alex turned the shower on full blast, adjusting the temperature as cold as it would go. He steeled himself against the icy spray, and just as he was about to step into the water’s stream, there was a buzz on his intercom from the lobby concierge.
Alex quickly wrapped a towel around his middle and hurried into the other room to answer the buzzer. “Yes?”
“Alex, it’s me, Darian. Can I come up?”
Alex glanced down at the lessening bulge under his towel and moaned. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to Darian. Also, for some inexplicable reason, he felt the need to keep Angel and what happened between them quiet. “Shit.”
“What?”
“Uh, yeah. Come on up.”
Alex walked quickly into his bathroom, dropped the towel, and stepped quickly under the cold water. “Son of a bitch!” he ground out, turning the front of his body into the water and lifting his face to completely drench it and his hair. It had the desired effect; his erection disappeared instantly through his shivers.
In less than a minute, Alex was pulling on a pair of old Levis and rubbing his wet hair dry as he made his way to the door to let Darian into his apartment.
When the door opened, Darian breezed past, dressed in knee-length shorts, athletic shoes, and a loose T-shirt with the sleeve unceremoniously cut-out to halfway to his waist. “I thought we could hit the gym. You up for it?”
Alex continued to dry his hair and preceded the other man into the kitchen. A heavy workout would be just what he needed to clear his head and focus on the coming week’s obligations. He still had to decide what he was going to do with his father’s instructions for Cole. He left the towel hanging over his bare shoulders as he pulled the orange juice carton from the refrigerator and took a long pull on it without getting a glass.
“Okay,” he answered shortly.
“Where were you last night? I called three times. Cole and I were at Excalibur, and he was doing damage to some little twit. I was bored.” Darian flashed a smile and pulled out a chair at the kitchen bar despite the table in the far corner of the large, modern kitchen. Alex moved around digging in the refrigerator and the cupboards for the beginnings of breakfast.
“I wasn’t around. Sorry,” he hedged.
“No shit. Where were you?”
Alex hesitated. “Went to TRU for dinner. Then I was home. Why the twenty questions?” Alex asked casually, throwing a bagel in the toaster. “Want one?”
“Yeah, sure. What ya got to put on it?”
Alex tossed two tubs of flavored cream cheese on the counter and then some cherry preserves that were his particular favorite.
When they were both eating and Alex was still moving around the room as he gathered the things to make cappuccino using the machine on his counter, Darian’s eyes narrowed. Alex was much too quiet.
“So? Have you talked to Angel? She must really be upset.” He chuckled. “Won’t give me the time of day.”
“You’re damn lucky she didn’t quit on your stupid ass.”
“Alex.” Darian said his name to get his attention diverted from the coffee he was making, all the while wolfing down the bagel and popping another in the toaster.
Alex’s eyes lifted to land on Darian’s.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Yes,” he answered cryptically, not willing to share much.
“And?” Darian set his cup down and raised his eyebrows. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That bad, huh? Did she rip you a new one?”
Alex smiled softly and shook his head. He didn’t look at Darian, but continued steaming the milk and then poured it into both of the cups after the espresso had been added. Darian’s curiosity was piqued and he pressed on.
“Alex, what?”
Alex shrugged nonchalantly. “She wasn’t upset with me. She sure was pissed at you, though.”
A shocked look settled on Darian’s face as he studied Alex’s expression. “You took her to TRU? It was her, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah and she is freaking amazing. So gorgeous. But that’s all you get.” He took a sip from his mug and turned his back on his best friend, making the pretense of straightening up after the meal.
“What the fuck?” Darian leaned on the counter as his eyes widened in surprise. “Tell me what happened.”
“We had dinner and talked.” A reluctant grin split his face. “ So what?”
“Alex, there is nothing so what about Angel and you know it. And since when do you spend an entire evening talking to a woman? Normally, you’d tell me something.”
“Not this time.”
“Avery! Did you take her to bed? Already?”
Alex couldn’t help the lazy smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. Technically, it was the couch, he thought. “I said drop it, D.” Alex picked up his cup and began to leave the room. “I have to go to my parents for brunch at noon, so if you want to hit the gym, I have to dress.”
“But…”
“Drop it.” Alex rolled his eyes as he went up the stairs, though Darian missed it. He had no intention of sharing last night with anyone, not even his best friend. Sure, in the past he’d thought nothing of giving Darian some of the details, but this time, he intended to keep the relationship between himself and Angel private. They were so intimate—with words, with their bodies, with their minds—sharing it with anyone else was unthinkable. He felt like he’d known her all his life despite just meeting her and not knowing much about her. He looked forward to finding out more, as slowly as necessary.
He dressed, reluctant for more of Darian’s third degree. Alex ran a comb through his thick midnight mop and chose to forego the tedium of shaving. He rubbed his shadowed jaw and smiled. If he saw Angel later, he’d want to shave just before. WHEN I see her, dickhead. It’s going to happen, Avery, Alex admonished himself, glancing in the mirror one final time before leaving his room.
When Alex was halfway down the flight of stairs, he looked up to see Darian twirling a scrap of blush silk around the index finger on his right hand. He sucked in his breath. Fuck! In her rush out last night, Angel must have forgotten her panties. A hot flush infused beneath the skin of his face and neck. Alex k
new his face would give him away.
“Lookie, lookie, here!” Darian teased.
Alex’s heart pounded inside his chest in panic as he quickened his pace down the rest of the stairs, eager to snatch them away and wipe the smug grin off his friend’s face. “These are very sexy, Alex. The woman attached to them must have melted your cock off,” he said.
“Give them back. Now.” Alex’s voice was ice cold and hard.
“Whoa, hold up, dude.” Darian held both hands in front of him in an effort to ward off Alex’s advance, the panties dangling from one hand. “I found them on the floor. What’s your probl—”
Alex grabbed the panties and scowled at him. “I said give them to me, Darian!” Sucking in his breath, he moved quickly into his den and opened the lower left drawer where the red file was hidden. He ran his fingers over the fine material and lace, remembering how he’d peeled them off Angel, before leaving them in the drawer and returning to the living room.
Alex gathered the keys for his Audi from the coffee table. “Let’s go.”
“Dude. Are you seriously not going to tell me about those panties? Shit, they’re sexier than hell!”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Why? Dude, it’s killing me! I can’t believe Angel gave in on the first date. Man, you’re my hero.”
“Shut the fuck up. It wasn’t like that. She didn’t give in. I did.” Alex grimaced when he said it, revealing more than he intended.
“What?” Darian burst out happily. “I think I just came in my shorts.”
Alex ran his hand across his jaw in exasperation. Jesus Christ. They were out of the apartment and taking the elevator down to the garage when he made the decision that he would drive separately from his friend. “I had no intentions of sex last night. I respect her, and I didn’t want her thinking that Whitney’s twisted description of me was correct.”
“Alex. Of course Whitney’s description was right. You’ve been an unemotional prick and you know it.”
“Well, I never gave a shit before. End of interrogation.”
“Wow. The mighty Alex Avery is being led around by his dick when he said it’d never happen. If that isn’t classic, I don’t know what is.”
Alex chuckled to himself. Well... at least it was a happy dick. Fucking ecstatic!
* * *
Angel threw her dictation recorder down on her bed and flopped back on her pillows as her stomach rumbled. It was after seven and she’d been poring over the case files for the past eight hours. Once Becca and Jillian left after a late breakfast, she’d turned off her phone and immersed herself in the task of analyzing the tests and listening to the interviews again and again.
Mark Swanson was an evil bastard. There was no getting around it. He was well known and had a successful chain of dry cleaners that his grandfather had started fifty years earlier. He was connected with important people and his businesses were located all over the greater Chicago area. Everyone knew his smarmy face because it was plastered all over the advertising for Swanson Cleaners. Angel shuddered just thinking of that face. He was guilty as hell and she knew it in her gut. She had a sixth sense about scum like him, but she didn’t have a thing to pin on him.
Angel ran both hands through her long hair and took a deep breath. She was frustrated, listening to his calm tone, methodically describing his relationship with his stepdaughter; completely different than how she described it. He was cold and emotionless. An icy shiver ran through Angel in reaction, the hair on her arms standing straight up.
The girl, on the other hand, was emotionally broken and terrified. It was obvious which of the two was telling the truth. The problem was, the prick had mastered his answers to the standard tests, completely fooling them. Even the polygraph that he’d taken he passed with flying colors. The fucker didn’t profile like an abuser or rapist, and her professional reputation rested on her honesty in what she found in the results. When he left her office the week prior, he’d been smug and condescending; threatening.
“Make sure to get your notes all organized, little lady, and the results are what they need to be. Right, honey? Then we’ll all live happily ever after.”
“Just get out of my office. You can’t fool me.” Her voice had been cold as ice, but deep down, she was scared. He was dangerous and thought himself untouchable.
“And you should hold your tongue if you know what’s good for you, eh?” He’d reached out and touched her chin withh is index finger, to which Angel had immediately batted his hand away and glared. Swanson simply grinned and walked out like he hadn’t a care in the world.
Her chest tightened in disgust. He had no fear of being caught or he wouldn’t be so forthcoming with his threats. He had no conscience, no remorse. “Slimy bastard. This is when I hate my fucking job. Uuughhh!” she screamed into the empty air.
The hearing was in two months, but her deposition was Tuesday. There was nothing left to do tonight, and her plans included getting a bath and making something simple to eat. Her apartment was quiet as she walked through the living room on her way to the kitchen. Her eyes fell on the large bouquet of purple lilies on the square, dark wood coffee table in front of her plush olive green suede sofa. The apartment was clear of clutter, but the furniture was a mixture of modern lines and lots of luxurious comfort; plush cushions, dark wood, and slate tiles in the entryway and bathrooms.
Becca wasn’t happy when Angel brushed over the details of her date with Alexander Avery, but all she shared was that he was charming and a few elegant details about the restaurant. She ran her hand over the marble countertop as she passed; thoughts of the more intimate moments came flooding to the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t ashamed of what happened, but something inside her wanted to keep those surreal moments to herself. Maybe it was because she didn’t want Becca to know she’d succumb just like every other weak-willed woman in Alex Avery’s sights. Maybe it would hurt less when it ended if she could pretend it never happened, and she wouldn’t be able to do that if her best friend knew the details.
The two phones were sitting on the island and Angel stopped herself, a strong urge to turn them on just to see if he’d called. She left her phone where it was and picked up the one from Alex. As she looked at it, knowing she was about to give in, her heart started to hum. What if he didn’t call? As hard as it was to admit, she wanted to see him, hear his voice. She closed her eyes and turned on the phone. Even if he did call, she wouldn’t be able to get the message. What was the password to the voicemail? He hadn’t said.
The screen lit up as the phone turned on, and there were no missed calls. Her heart fell and her cheeks burned with a flush.
This is what I get for fucking him last night! I should have trusted the logic and not given in to the goddamn lust. Angel was angry at her weakness… for allowing the faintest hope that he was different. Until that second, she hadn’t really known how badly she wanted him to be more than Whitney said he was. She really wanted him to be as perfect as he seemed.
Angel sucked in a deep breath and scowled, trying to push down the disappointment that left her reeling. She went to the cupboard and pulled out some angel hair pasta, then to the refrigerator for parmesan cheese, fresh garlic, tomatoes, parsley, and butter. She decided she needed some wine to take the edge off of her emotions and she opened a bottle of chardonnay that was chilling in the refrigerator.
As she poured, she was startled when the Nickleback song blasted behind her, but even as she spilled the wine all over the counter, her face split into a happy smile. “Crap!”
Alex, the display announced the caller, and she smiled, happiness rushing through every cell in her body. “I am so screwed here,” she muttered as she picked up the phone and answered. “Hello?”
“I waited as long as I could stand. Are you done working?” Alex’s velvet voice ran over her like warm silk. A smile softened her face, memories of the night before warming her skin and throbbing through her body.
“Just finished.�
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“What are you doing?”
“Well, I was just going to make some pasta.”
“Pasta sounds good. What kind?”
A wicked giggle burst from her lips. “Hot naked.”
“You’re shitting me, Angel,” he said in a deeper tone, chuckling. “You’re a naughty tease.”
“No, seriously,” she laughed softly, moving to get a rag to wipe up the spilled wine. “I’m making Hot naked. It’s really yummy. And super easy.” She was smiling so hard her cheeks were starting to hurt.
A low laugh preceded his words. “Yes, I’m sure it is. I can make hot naked, too. But my version is hard.”
Fuck, he was sex personified, she thought with a grin. “You have no idea.”
He laughed again and her nipples actually hardened at the sound. “Oh, but I do. Those are my three favorite words.”
She frowned slightly and bit her lip. “Hot, naked, and yummy?”
“No, hot naked, Angel.”
“Want some?” she teased, knowing full well what she was implying. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, so much pleasure in just talking to him, imagining what her words were doing to his body.
“Some hot naked Angel? You don’t have to ask me twice.”
She was giggling by now, so hard she almost snorted. “No, hot naked pasta. It’s only fresh garlic sautéed in butter, poured over angel hair with fresh parmesan. If you want a little more dressed, I can add parsley and chopped Roma tomatoes.”
Alex laughed with her. “No, babe, I want all naked, all the time.”
“Okay.”
His voice sobered and deepened slightly, his tone inquiring if this was an invitation. “Okay?”
The implications were clear. This was decision time. Should she give herself a chance? Should she give Alex a chance? “Yeah, okay.”
“Now?”
“Alex, just get your ass over here. But I warn you, I’m not fancy tonight, so don’t go getting all beautiful.” She looked down at her jean shorts and plain white T-shirt. Quite a change from how he’d seen her last.
“Should I bring anything? Dessert?” They both laughed softly together, so in sync; knowing exactly what the other was saying and the sexy game that they played so well.