The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (70 page)

He closes the gap between us in one long stride, grabbing my bent elbow to spin me around, pulling my back firmly up against him. “You think that a man that once kissed your neck like this,” he brushes my hair over my shoulder, raining kisses down my neck, “…or touched you like this,” he caresses my ass, reaching around to cup my breast, “…a man that loved you - that assuredly loves you still - spent a lovely, and quite
private
, little visit with you today, is no big deal? You don’t think that warrants my jealousy?”

“No, it’s…it’s over with Liam” I manage, despite the distraction of his touch.

“Like it’s over with Helena? Then you would be okay with her paying me a
little
visit?” his tone is condescending, refueling my defenses.

I try to pull away, but his grip around me tightens, holding me in place against him. “It’s not the same thing,” I mutter, feeling the heat from his hold.

He spins me around to face him, his grip firm on my arms. The fury in his eyes is both frightening and desirable at the same time. “The only difference is that I fucked her…he
made love
to you.”

I gasp at the dominant harshness of his statement, but I’m not giving in just yet. “Well, that’s just semantics, Alex,” I bite. “And regarding any love involved, in case you didn’t hear me the first time, I’ll repeat it for you…that part of my history with Liam is
over
.”

“It’s over for you,” he bends to whisper firmly in my ear, “That doesn’t mean it’s over for him.” The brush of his breath against my neck is exhilarating. The words, however, are infuriating me further, more so because they echo my sentiments regarding his lame-ass use of Helena as some basis for a comparison.

“Thank you for proving my point, exactly,” I jerk my arms from his hold.

“Your point?” he practically snarls. “Jesus, Aby,” he turns from me, running his fingers through his damp hair, pacing back and forth, away from and towards me, in frustration.

“Yes! You’re the one who threw Miss Adelaide into this argument. I’m merely reminding you that…that…”
Shit. I don’t even remember my own point
, I grimace, undoubtedly pouting. Damn him and his sexy manipulation of the situation, touching me to prove
his
point, his damn seductive whispers.
Seductive…Temptress.
Yes! That was my point
…“Liam and I ended a marriage. We transitioned from couple to friends.
Helena
was your…well, your whore - for lack of a better
label
- and she can easily attempt to renew that role at any time. It’s. Not. The. Same. Thing.”

Stopping, he glares at me, “If you weren’t so goddamned stubborn, I’d…” he huffs, pacing once more.

“What? What, Mister Jealous? Or should I say, Master of denial of said jealousy - what would you do?”

He growls at me this time, stopping to look me straight in the eye. “I certainly know what I’d like to do,” he spits.

“Yeah, what’s that?” I bite back.

“Fuck some sense into you. That’s what.”

Holy shit.
I’ve never been one to imagine sex in a moment of anger. Never before felt the rage and lust cocktail. But right now, it’s burning through me like moonshine in my veins.

For several seconds, minutes even, as though the earth has stopped on its axis, we stare at each other amid panting anger and craving. We’re trapped beneath a ferocious tidal wave of desire; frozen, looming above us, around us, and we both know its about to come crashing down to drown us in its lustful fury.

I sense the moment Alex is about to pounce, the moment my eyes secretly, silently, whisper so much more than any words ever could. I want him
now
. As much as I know he wants me.

He reaches for me, his attack viciously laced with dominant desire, his wide grip spanning my waist to pull me into his arms. Our lips meet in a ravenous kiss, pent up anger fuelling our lustful want for each other as he grips the back of my thighs to lift me, my legs wrapping tightly around him.

Winding my fingers through is hair, I pull and tug in desperation, his hands mirroring my actions in my soaked tresses hanging down my back. I feel possessed, moaning into his mouth, sucking on his tongue. There’s no concept of our surroundings as we ravage each other, completely engrossed in our deep, anger-fuelled need to fuck each other senseless.

Turning towards the dresser, Alex sashays his hand abruptly along the top with a fluid glide of his muscled arm, the articles crashing to the carpeted floor with a clatter as he secures me in his grip, his hand at my backside. The erotic display of dominance has me biting his lip in hunger, driving us higher.

Setting me atop, we struggle with needy hands and fingers, tugging and frantically pulling apart the bow of my robe, spreading the material to reveal my nakedness beneath. His hands engulf my slender waist as he pulls his lips from mine to attack my nipple, sucking it deep before swirling his tongue along the pebbled tip.

I can’t resist the urge to hold his head in place, my legs shaking amid the pounding tempo of my clenching core. “Alex! Fuck me!” I cry out in a breathless pant.

He groans through a final nibble, his husky breaths slipping through parted lips as he lifts me off the dresser, making his way towards the bed. Dropping me to the mattress, I yelp, barely able to catch up as he swiftly shoves his gym pants down, his returned erection bobbing against his stomach.

Bending, his large frame looming over me, he spreads my legs with his strong hands, “Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fuck you? Maybe I should make you beg for it.”

“Oh God…” I gasp, closing my eyes against the sheer decadence of his dominance.

“Is that a no? You don’t think I should make you beg?” he questions, sliding his fingers along my soaked pussy, gliding with ease through the juices coating my folds.

“No!”

“Then tell me who you belong to,” he orders, his tone firm and sexy as hell as he slides his fingers inside me, pressing deeply against my g-spot.

“You!” I scream in absolute frustration and need, gripping his wrist in an attempt to push his fingers deeper, my body bowing with desire. I am his. His, and his alone.

“You’re fucking right, you are,” he growls, pulling his fingers from my depths, kneeling down on the bed between my widespread legs to thrust his cock fluidly inside.

He owns me in this moment - in every ridge, every ripple I feel against my sensitive nerves, my pussy throbbing and pulsing around his thickness. God, I will never tire of the feel of him. Never stop wanting him. Never stop loving him.

“And I’m yours, sweetheart. Always yours,” he whispers huskily, driving us to the brink.

“I’M SORRY, ABY,” Alex whispers, gliding his fingers along my spine as I lay sprawled across his chest. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry about Liam’s visit, it’s just that…”

I lift my head to stare into his eyes, his expression showcasing a myriad of emotions as he trails off. Turning his striking blue gaze to me, a small, shy smile dons his face.

“It’s just that, I don’t want to lose you. After Julia…Ben…I-I just love you so damn much.”

I’m torn between the sweetness of his words and the curdling sensation at the mention of…
them
. Ben. Julia. My insides shrink further as I reflect on the avid hurt Julia has caused Alex, the extensive damage her cheating did to his self-esteem.
That bitch
. Add to that, the fact that his best friend could betray him so utterly, so totally. I can completely understand his issues with trust, jealousy, however annoying, and unwarranted, they may be.

Anger, frustration, and rage towards them for the hurt they’ve caused wells inside me, fueled further as I remember Julia’s avid denial that she slept with Ben. Although I didn’t - and still don’t - believe her denial for one second, I realize that I have yet to share that tidbit of information with Alex.
Ugh
.

“Alex, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. But you have to trust me. I’m not her, and Liam isn’t Ben,” I relay, cupping his jaw lovingly in my hand. His returned, though sad, smile breaks my heart a little. “She denied it, you know,” I finally confess the information I’d withheld - albeit, unintentionally. Not shockingly, I’ve tried my best to mentally block everything
Julia and Ben
-related since it all went down.

“Who denied what?” he asks, a bewildered look on his face.

“Julia. When she came to see me before I left London…she denied having cheated with Ben. Obviously, I didn’t believe her for a second, and in fact, forgot all about it until this moment.” I hold my breath slightly, awaiting his reply. Will he be mad? This could classify as an omission of sorts, regardless of how much I’m trying to downplay it. And God knows how Alex values omissions.

I can see the wheels spinning as he contemplates what I’ve just divulged, from curiosity to frustration to anger. “Why
would
you believe her? Everything she says is a lie,” he spews in disgust, pushing to sit on the edge of the bed.

Hmmm.
I certainly didn’t expect
that
reaction. I thought he’d flip out, demand to know why I didn’t tell him. Moreover, be thoroughly upset with how everything played out with Ben - the demise of their friendship. Not for one second did I think he’d brush if off as another lie. His adamant tone has me questioning the validity, “But what if she’s telling the truth? What if your anger at Ben is misguided and he didn’t betray you?”

“He betrayed me when he made a pass at you, Aby. That alone is betrayal enough. Besides, I don’t fucking care
who
she was with,” he states with vehemence. “You know what,” he continues, standing to pull his sweat pants on, “…no more talk of Julia and Ben. Done. Over.” His gaze softens on a breath of composure, “I’m sorry I let my past show itself in my present. My jealousy has no bearing on my trust in you, Aby. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

Standing motionless before me, his sincere smile effectively halts my need to talk more, to mull over the possibility that perhaps she
was
telling the truth. Clearly, he not only doesn’t care, but also refuses to give it any credence whatsoever. That’s fine. At least I’ve told him what I know, whether it’s the truth or not. No more secrets.

The shrill ring of the phone breaks our silence, and I stand to get dressed as Alex reaches to grab it.

“Hello? Yes…What do you mean?”

Tugging my tank top into place over my yoga pants, I still at the shift in Alex’s tone, his previous smile replaced with an expression of worry. Walking towards him, I sit at the edge of the bed, sliding my hand into his as he leans against the nightstand, clutching the phone to his ear.

“What about Ben?” his gaze darts to mine as the question falls from his lips.

What are the chances given the chat we just had?

“He’s
WHAT
?” his eyes bulge in alarm, a flash of pain radiating from his pose, “…an
overdose
? I’m on my way,” he finishes, abruptly returning the receiver to its casing. Turning to face me, I note the trepidation in his gaze, and my heart starts an erratic beat in my chest. “It’s Ben. He’s in the hospital.”

“JESUS, HOW DID this happen?” Alex questions, pacing the hospital corridor, running his hands through his hair. He isn’t asking anyone in particular. Nor does it appear he’s looking for an answer. He’s merely repeating the same question he’s been consistently speculating aloud since we heard the news about Ben.

Finally stopping his incessant pacing, he leans his back against the wall, his fingers still in place in his unkempt curls, once again falling victim to the unresponsive silence.

I hate seeing him this way, his beautiful face baffled and etched with pain and concern. He’s been like this since we received the call less than eighteen hours ago. Having not eaten a single thing during the twelve-hour flight to London from L.A., it’s beginning to show, the lack of his usually healthy glow in his unshaven face darkening his boyish good looks.

Seated in the uncomfortable chairs along the wall, I feel helpless staring up at him. I want so badly to provide comfort, to hold him in my arms, but my previous attempts were all but dismissed. He doesn’t need anything I have to offer him right now.