Forever Attraction (11 page)

I open my eyes to see a reddened lip handsome man resting his chin in my mound.

“That was beautiful.” He whispers.

I blush.

“Hey, Alexis, I love you. Welcome home.”

A sated smile greets him, and I whisper. “I love you too. And I’m glad to be here.”

The End

Stay Tuned for

Bound Attraction – Becka’s Story

Which will contain more of Brad and Alexis’s story.

I want to say thank you for reading and following along with Alexis’s story. I wanted to give everyone Brad’s POV from when they first met, at the beginning so you could understand his insight and feelings before I made the leap into marriage as quickly as I did.

When I wrote this story I wanted it to be a novel. But as time carried on I felt that I would be forcing the story to unfold if I added more. So I left it with their HEA. The next books in the Attraction series which will be three more. Will give you even more of Alexis’s story and how her life turns out with Brad. Along with all of the characters we’ve grown to love in this series.

Thanks again.

Much Love

Author S.K. Logsdon

LEX:
Unconventional Hearts Novel

Available Now

-First Two Chapters-

~Chapter One~

“Lex, are you about done?” Roni, or should I say Veronica my quasi best friend who happens to live on the same parcel of real-estate I do, calls from our small shared backyard.

“I’m in here
,
” I yell, walking over to the window that’s open above the white apron sink. I’m standing in the kitchen, slaving rather tirelessly over my vintage stove. It’s exhausting being me sometimes.

Quieter now, Roni reaches my back screen door and welcomes herself inside.

“Are you attempting to boil water, again?” she inquires, sarcastically with a juicy all-knowing smile as she plops her jean-clad country girl butt down at my table, seated in the most perfect breakfast nook. Complete with bay windows, draped with mint green swags, a booth with a floral print cushion, two chairs, and a rectangular farmhouse table.

“I’ll have you know, I’m using the kettle for some tea, Sassy Britches. Would you like some?”

Already knowing her answer, I pull two blue paisley printed mugs from inside my newly renovated white cupboards. I had my dream kitchen installed six months ago, leaving me with pale pink walls, a giant silver chandelier, a refurbished nineteen fifties stove, and a sealed wood slab countertop. It’s almost like having a butcher block as my entire counter, except its smoother.

“Don’t I always? And you wouldn’t…”

Holding up the biscotti that I ordered online, shushes her. Well, for the time being. It won’t last long. Never does.

This is a daily routine for us. I wake up at six on the nose, do a rather invigorating yoga session, alone in my meditation room—I had one of my five sizeable bedrooms converted to Zen status two years ago and it’s been money well spent ever since. After yoga, I shower and primp—it takes a lot of time. Between my hair and my entire makeup regiment, it’s no quick routine, and by eight, I’m downstairs doing this.

Lifting the annoying whistling teakettle from the stove, I serve our tea and biscotti on petite white scalloped edged plates, and take a seat across from my fussy best friend. Who just stumbled out of bed less than ten minutes ago and is ready to get on with her day. The perpetual indigent slob, or so you would think; looking at her day in and day out.

“So are you going to make me check it myself or will you give me the goods willingly?” She winks, pulling her green tea to her mouth and giving me a god-awful smirk over the rim of her mug.

“Work’s great,” I uppity answer, aimlessly avoiding eye contact. I can feel her pupils drilling holes into me as we speak.

“That. Is. Not. What. I. Meant. Lex, and you know it,” she clips, seething in her chair, biting angrily into her breakfast. It’s not much of a breakfast. I know this. But I swap out flavors of tea and biscotti on a weekly and sometimes daily basis to keep it fresh and interesting. It’s our thing, and has been for the past six years.

“Mmmm,” she foodgasms.

Yes, I know, those chocolate chip with macadamia nut ones are my new favorite.

“Good?” I sip my tea, following her lead.

“Delicious as ever. One minute I swear you’ve found the best biscotti and the next you surprise me with an orgasm on a plate.”

Awe, isn’t she darling? That’s a Roni compliment sandwich for ya, ever the proper lady.

“Now…” Quickly rendering her happy mood useless, she moves into starring daggers at me, more intensely this time.

Alright…alright…I surrender. For now.

“My profile has had sixty two hits and I’ve received twenty one emails since last night,” I sputter blankly, and internally I’m wallowing in unhappiness even speaking about this.

“That’s fantastic!” She claps—literally—like a two year old girl whose mom just bought her a sparkly Barbie doll.

Yes, soooo…joyful, Roni—not!

If only she’d have the mountain of obstacles, I have to overcome to find a date, let alone a boyfriend. She doesn’t get my dilemma, between my giant secrets and even larger scars. It’s impossible to force her to recognize I’m not a normal girl. I may look like one, but parts of me are so hard to admit. I just choose not to. It’s better for everyone if I pretend to be okay. Even if I’m not—well, not entirely. Don’t get me wrong, my life is spectacular. It’s the darkness that looms over me, that’s not.

“So? Did you pick one?” She is way too excited and getting a tomboy like her excited is a rarity.

“One what?” I play stupid, I know what she means.

“To date, silly.”

“No, I did the profile for you. To keep you happy. I’m not planning on securing any dates.”

Honesty is the best policy, for the most part. Even if I know it’s going to peeve her off.

Bingo!

Banging her hand on the table, she sneers and huffs at me in palpable agitation.

Two weeks ago, Roni informed me that I have to date too, now that she’s dating Bob, from Auto’s auto shop. Yes, that’s what I said. Don’t even get me started on the name. It’s a Heartfair thing. A Patty’s Pancake House, Jimbo’s Gym, Larry’s Lawn Service and those are just the tip of the small town of Heartfair iceberg.

Any who, like I was saying. Since my less than feminine best friend started dating Bob, the thirty-five year old sweetheart, auto mechanic, she’s decided I need to get over my… How long has it really been? Five years, yes, five year dating dry spell. Okay, it’s more like the Sahara desert without water, sort of dry spell. I don’t date for a thousand and one reasons. And yes, I’m lonely sometimes, but I love my life, and I’m always busy. I don’t have much time to be bored or lonely, at least not for extended periods of time.

“Are you paying attention to a word I say?” She snaps, her tanned freckle speckled cheeks flaring fire hydrant red.

“No, I tune you out when you start spouting this dating nonsense. Get over it. I did the profile. That’s all you’re going to get, Roni. I’m too old to date anyhow.”

Standing, I take my mug and rinse it out, leaving it for the housekeeper to clean in the sink when she drops by around noon. It’s nearly nine already, and I have an important meeting at ten. I don’t have time to waste.

“Bullshit, Lex! You’re twenty eight, the same age as me!”

Yes, I am. But I’m different from her. She’s sassy and forward and well—I’m just me, Lex Keagan, millionaire, entrepreneur, philanthropist, who lives in a tiny town of eight thousand residents. Which just so happens to be the main city within forty miles of anything larger. So we cater to those small villages and towns around us; providing them with schools, an inventive teaching hospital, and twenty-four-hour fast food joints, among other things, of course.

Having had more than enough of this conversation with Roni, I exit the kitchen to grab my pink Gucci purse from the sitting room and slide on my white, size twelve Prada pumps. Today I’m wearing my favorite pale blue wispy A-line dress with plunging V-neckline. It scrumptiously highlights my large, fake breasts, I think. My new investors will be in today to broker a deal, and making men stupidly drool is kind of my thing, or so I’m told.

They can eye bang me all they want. They just can’t touch. There’s only one male in my life allowed to touch and that’s Daniel, my bisexual secretary. Who’s such a doll, and more Butch than Sundance. That’s who I need to help relieve the painful throbbing between my smooth toned legs.

Knowing Roni left and is probably stewing back in her large upstairs apartment that’s over my four car garage, I decide to drive to work alone today. At least now Wynonna and I can get some alone time without Sassy Britches ruining my country buzz.

Clicking my three-inch heels through the house on my pristine dark wood floors, I open the white back door and swinging screen door, and lock the house up. Stepping down the three back steps, I head to the garage. I think I’ll drive the black Jag today. It’s more impressive, and I need to woo my newest investors.

Here goes nothing.

~
Chapter Two~

“Good morning, Ms. Keagan,” Daniel brightly greets sitting behind his immaculately organized desk that sits right outside my office. He’s a handsome fella. I don’t call him a man because, well—he’s barely twenty-one. Still rather wet behind the ears. Although he is sweet, eager, educated, and hardworking. In more ways than one.

Pushing open my door to my spacious and beautiful office, I turn to him.

“Now, please.” I naughtily smile and wink.

I know this is completely against all moral ethics, but I need a release. I’m already in pain for allowing myself to wait all weekend for Monday morning and Daniel’s big juicy lips to service me.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He’s already excited—good—I need some of his happiness to transfer to me. After this morning, I’m feeling rather…blah.

Sauntering over to my black leather high back executive chair, I pull my dress up just as he shuts the door and flips the lock. Sliding down my frilly pink lace panties, I shuffle them to the floor and step out of them.

“You’re so hot, Ms. Keagan.” He groans, using his hand to rub the rather hard cock poking in his trousers.

“You may pleasure yourself while you do your job.” I sweetly state, taking a seat in my empowering chair. Something about this chair makes me feel even more powerful than being just the owner to a major beauty care company.

It doesn’t take him but fifteen seconds and he’s kneeled between my legs, on my soft tan carpet greedily diving in, sucking on me as he pumps his iron rod fast between his legs.

“That’s good.” I coax, gently running my hands through Daniel’s thick black hair, leaning back and admiring the view of him going to town between my legs. Slurping, sucking and the more excited he gets the louder he moans, as his tongue feverishly licks and nibbles me in all the right places. He feels so good!

I’m close! Already so close, it never takes me very long. Forcefully grabbing a fistful of his hair, I hump his face, fucking his mouth with each sloppy, hard thrust of my undulating hips. Panting, sweat beading on the back of my neck, my heart excitedly hammering in my chest. I can feel the tingle sparking manically between my legs.

I’m going to come!

“I’m going to…” I moan, my legs contracting, body shaking on the brink of ecstasy.

Sucking on me extra hard, I loose myself in carnal bliss, my hands painfully grip his hair, and I come, hard. Squirting my hot nectar all over his saliva saturated mouth. Readily he drinks all of me down with a feral grunt and a spastic release of his own seed into his palm.

Good. Now that, that’s out of the way, I can think straight and prepare for my meeting.

“What do you mean you want stake in the company?” I calmly and respectfully ask. Even though it’s torturing me not to raise my overly feminine voice a few octaves to give their egocentric ears something to cry home about.

“Keagan Cosmetics and Creams is a company we want to own a part of.”

I think I’m hearing him correctly, but if he thinks I’m sharing, he’s lost his damn mind. These Saks reps were supposed to be here to talk long-term contract, to supply their stores with my cosmetics and beauty products. Not negotiate a company partnership. I can’t blame them for wanting exclusivity in owning a portion of what I’ve spent the past eight years building from the ground up. Nevertheless, I surely didn’t do all of this work for someone else to reap the benefits.

Yeah—right, I wasn’t born yesterday.

“We’d pay you twenty-one million for fifty percent partnership.”

Yes, I’m sure they would. Rolling my eyes, I turn to see Roni, gripping the edge of the conference table, about to come unglued. If she does, I almost fear for their lives. Sometimes I swear she’s more boy than girl. Shooting guns, hunting, fishing, NASCAR, hot rods… Like I said—total tomboy.

“Listen gentleman.” I soothe sexily and stand, smoothing my dress down the side of my thin body.

It’s time to work my God-given charm. It should be illegal to get away with all I do. Roni says it’s because I’m
smokin
’; her words not mine.

Slowly walking around the table my eyes forever watching the men, I stop between the two who are drooling the most, and I sit up on the table between them, cross my long lithe legs, making sure the one with the silver heart anklet is rested outward. Some men love ankle decorations and it’s obvious they do. They’re devouring me with their eyes, from my white heels all the way up to my hair, and back.

“So, gentleman.” I’m the first to speak and leaning over slightly, I run my finger suggestively around the pressed white shirt collar of the handsome forty something man in an expensive, tailored business suit. Hunching my shoulders just a bit, I allow my dress to gape just slightly at the top to give him a little view of my breasts. Which, by the way, are not cupped with a bra. I don’t need one; my boobs are forever perky. I’ve been implanted twice in the past ten years and they are just supple enough to make you question if they’re real or fake, but they’re fake. I wouldn’t be a D cup if they weren’t.

“Yes…” He gulps and licks his big perverted married lips.

Time to go in for the kill.

“Donnie, I don’t want to sell any part of my big ol’ company to yours.” I pout and baby talk to him, batting my naturally thick black eye lashes that encase my pouty ice blue eyes. I’m fully aware that this man sitting here, hanging on my every word is married, and his name is Donald Beardsley. I’m fairly certain no one calls him Donnie, except me, just now. I have that cute factor to get away with just about anything. My curse—if you will.

Trailing my finger from his collar to his tie, I pull it from the confines of his double-breasted suit jacket, and seductively slide the blue patterned silk delicately through my thin French manicured fingers.

He’s panting already and his dark brown soulful eyes are sparking fireworks of animalistic lust right at me.

“Now, Donnie… You wouldn’t want to ruin this deal because you want to own part of my company. Would you? How about…” I pause for effect and sigh, long and sensuously, devilishly smiling on the inside for playing such a convincing seductress.

“Oh…never mind…” I breathily come back with a deeply saddened tone and pout my glossy bottom lip.

Quickly removing my hands from his tie, he folds my hands into his. He-man here to fix his damsel in distress, works every time.

“Tell me Lex… May I call you, Lex?” He sounds desperate and that’s good, that’s very good.

I weakly nod with a frown.

“Tell me what you were going to say.”

Lightly gnawing on my bottom lip, I look down and away from his handsome aged face. Trying desperately to keep up my play and not laugh.

Cupping my chin, he sweetly tilts my head so our gazes meet and his nostrils flair. He’s hard right now. I’d lay fifty million on it.

“Please.” Okay, now he’s resorted to begging. Alright, that’s a good boy.

“I want to have your stores sell my products, Donnie, but I’ve worked so very hard for my company. I can’t let it go. I’m sorry.”

Firmly biting my bottom lip and hooding my eyes, faking shy nervousness. I know this Alpha has a deep seeded need to fix my sadness and surly that would include banging me on this table, but he’s a professional and I know he’d never actually come out and court me that way. It’s not in a business man’s repertoire to be so garishly forthcoming, especially those of them who are married and probably bored to death with their personal lives. I know what will come after this. I’d lay money on it.

Ten minutes later, my hand still resting in his, he’s signing the contract with the other. We already had this specific contract prepared and now my products will not only be sold at Macy’s, Nordstrom’s and online, they will be at Saks, and I have an exclusive Saks only collection I’m already conjuring up. What a sweet life.