The room looks more like an office than a hotel suite. Still holding me securely with one arm, Alex steps inside, turns and closes the door behind us.
Several lamps cast a warm, muted glow across the room. The first thing I notice is an enormous sofa upholstered in the darkest green velvet, accompanied by two charcoal-grey armchairs. A substantial dark wooden desk stands in front of the windows, positioned to face the room. There is a door on the right, a low coffee table in front of the sofa and, along the left-hand wall, something resembling a private bar, complete with crystal glasses and bottles that look offensively expensive. Other than that, the room is immaculate. Almost too empty. A single notebook and a closed MacBook sit on the vast desk. Heavy floor-length velvet curtains frame the windows on either side, shifting slightly in the draught.
Alex carries me towards the sofa, and I assume he is finally going to put me down. “I’m fairly certain I can walk in here.” When we reach the sofa, he takes his time.
He lowers me slowly, letting every hard inch of his body drag against mine, but he does not release me. The moment my toes touch the thick rug beneath us, his hands move from beneath my bottom to either side of my waist, holding me so close there is not enough space between us for a single strand of hair. I lower myself from my tiptoes until my feet are flat on the floor, then tip my head back and meet his eyes. “Let’s get some food into you,” he says quietly, without looking away.
Then he finally releases me. He crosses to his desk and presses a button. Even from across the room, his eyes remain fixed on me as he speaks. “Ashcroft. Could you send up one steak and salad, and a bottle of water with electrolytes?”
That aggressively healthy meal is the very last thing my stomach can tolerate, and my face must reveal exactly what I think of it. Alex does not like that at all. “You will finish it, Caitríona.” A violent wave of nausea rolls through me. Groaning, I collapse onto the sofa, draw my knees into my chest and curl into a ball. “I don’t want it. I feel sick.”
Alex comes around the desk and crouches beside the sofa. I feel his arm moving towards me before I open my eyes. He brushes the hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. When I finally look at him, his deep blue eyes are studying me with unmistakable concern. “You’ll feel worse if you don’t eat.” Yes, he is right. I will feel worse. But at the moment, I don’t think I can manage it.
I close my eyes again and answer with a low, miserable groan. “Leave me alone.” Alex takes hold of my hands where they are wrapped around my legs and places them gently at my sides. Then he cups my cheek. I stretch my legs along the sofa and lean sleepily into his palm. “I really don’t think I can eat anything.”
Without replying, Alex stands. The absence of his hand leaves an absurd emptiness against my skin. So he has an office in the hotel. Does that mean the hotel belongs to him? Does he work here? Why does he have a private office inside it? I understand absolutely nothing. Then again, I have approximately four functioning brain cells left. I push myself upright and focus on the god who has begun undressing in front of me.
Alex removes his jacket first and drapes it over one of the armchairs. Then he loosens his tie with a sharp tug and drops that beside it. His cufflinks follow, landing on the coffee table. He unfastens the expensive watch at his wrist next and tosses it down beside them without so much as looking where it lands, as if it is worth absolutely nothing, before he begins rolling up his shirtsleeves.
His forearms are so powerful and indecently attractive that whatever remains of my integrity disappears entirely. He notices me watching. The look he gives me makes it perfectly clear how much he enjoys it. Then he turns his back. The breadth of his shoulders and the flawless shape of his backside do nothing to clear my already foggy mind. He takes a glass bottle of water from the bar and places it beside me. “Drink, Caitríona.” Then he simply stands over me. He is already ridiculously tall, but from where I am sitting, staring up at him, I feel like a small child being reprimanded. “I don’t eat or drink things strangers give me.” His answer is immediate.
“You shouldn’t get into strangers’ cars either, but here we are.”
The sight of his athletic arms beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt is making concentration nearly impossible. “You kidnapped me!” Still muttering beneath my breath, I twist open the bottle and take a sip. A knock sounds at the office door. “Come in,” Alex calls. A member of the hotel staff enters with a polite good evening. Alex tells him to leave the tray on the coffee table, and before the poor man has even made it back through the door, Alex looks at me. “Eat.”
Being treated like a disobedient child is beginning to infuriate me. I fold my arms across my chest. “I’m not eating that.” His temper rises instantly. “You are going to eat, you mad woman.” Fine. I am hungry. But the thought of forcing down steak and salad makes my stomach turn.
“I don’t want steak. I want a fucking Diet Coke and some chips. Will that be enough to make you leave me alone?” He brings one hand to his jaw, considering my request as if I have presented him with a matter of national importance. Then he mutters, mostly to himself, “Given your current condition, that’s reasonable.” He returns to his desk, presses the button and orders an iced Diet Coke and chips.
“Nounou!”
The thought hits me so suddenly. What am I doing here with this man when Nounou is at home waiting for me? I have no idea what time it is, but she will be expecting her dinner. She is probably sitting beside her bowl, wondering why her terrible mother has abandoned her. This is all his fault. Alex is staring at me, clearly waiting for an explanation. I jump to my feet, but the room tilts violently. He catches me around the waist before I can fall.
“Careful.”
I brace both hands against his hard chest and look up into the blue of his eyes. “Nounou. My dog,” I say, as if his failure to know this is a serious personal offence. “Nounou is at home waiting for me, Alex. I have to go. She must be starving. Oh God, what am I going to do?” His hold around me tightens.
“Calm down, Caitríona.”
“How long will it take me to get home from here? She’s missed her dinner. I need to leave immediately.” A smile touches his mouth, as if he finds my panic amusing.
“And what are we going to do about your dinner?” Then he scoops me up, bridal-style. I shriek. He catches me unprepared every single time. He turns towards the right-hand side of the room. When he opens the door, we find ourselves inside an enormous bathroom. Of course he has installed a private bathroom and shower beside his office. There is a vast marble walk-in shower, two matching marble sinks and, behind a low partition wall, what I assume is the toilet. Once I recover from the shock of being carried again, I begin protesting. “Alex! I said I need to go home. Put me down.”
“You talk too much.” He sets me on my feet in front of one of the sinks, then slaps my bum again. I let out another startled cry. “Will you stop smacking me?” “With that attitude, you’d better get used to it.”
This level of closeness is genuinely dangerous for my heart. Then his expression changes. He leans forwards behind me and turns on the tap. His hard chest, along with every other hard part of him, presses unmistakably against my back. With his left hand, he gathers my long blonde hair and draws it over one shoulder. Then he catches a little water in his right hand and smooths it across my forehead. He bends closer, plants both hands on either side of the sink and traps me inside the cage of his powerful arms. His mouth moves towards my ear.
“I’m going to tell you what happens next. You are going to agree without arguing. Understood?” Of course, Your Majesty. Unfortunately, I appear to have forgotten how to speak. The image in the mirror has stolen every word from me.
Our eyes lock in the reflection. He towers behind me, imposing and composed, while I look flushed and breathless. My chest rises and falls so violently that it seems in danger of escaping the dress altogether. The first touch of his lips against my neck makes me tremble. The second time, he leaves a kiss against my skin.
“Relax, Caitríona,” he whispers.
It is too much. Too overwhelming. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe. “Open your eyes.” When I obey, his deep blue stare is waiting for me in the mirror.
“One, you are going to eat your fucking chips.”
My chest is still heaving.
“Two, someone will bring Nounou here, and she will have her dinner.”
I open my mouth to object, but one of the hands gripping the sink moves around my waist. He presses his palm to my stomach and draws me back against the hard length of him. Whatever breath I had left disappears. Desire ignites inside me, hot enough to burn through bone.
“Three, you are going to have a shower, go to sleep and think about absolutely nothing else.”
Then he mutters beneath his breath, almost to himself, “Because if you were sober, you wouldn’t be going to sleep.” The ache between my legs is driving me out of my mind. I want to murder him.
I also want to have frantic, reckless sex with him.
I close my eyes and swallow.
When I open my eyes again, there still isn’t a single millimetre between us, and my heart is pounding as if I’ve just run a marathon. I meet his gaze in the mirror. The hunger in his eyes mirrors exactly what is burning through me. The hard length of him against my back. The feel of his shirt against my skin. The arm locked tightly around my waist. Those deep blue eyes. It is all too much.
Every sensation makes me want him more. My legs no longer feel strong enough to hold me, so I grip the arm wrapped around my waist, close my eyes and let my head fall back against his chest. I am burning with desire, yet I have never felt safer. This man confuses me. He turns every thought in my head upside down until I can no longer tell what is sensible and what is reckless.
My fingertips press into his forearm, almost as if they are testing the strength beneath his skin. Not that they doubt it for a second. The throbbing between my legs is almost humiliating. It feels as if he could make me come without even touching me properly. His hand tightens around my waist, pulling me harder against him. I tilt my head, exposing more of my neck and offering it to him. He accepts the invitation. He bends towards me, his breathing growing uneven against my skin. I close my eyes and listen to every rough breath that leaves him. His scent surrounds me, rich and intoxicating, driving me out of my mind. It feels like we are the only two people left in the world.
His mouth closes around my neck. The moment his lips meet my skin, heat erupts through my body. He sucks the same spot with shameless hunger, then bites down gently, making pleasure tear through me. I stop trying to hold back my moans. Every hair on my body rises. My nipples tighten beneath my dress. The desire this man creates in me could power a nuclear plant. There will be a mark there tomorrow. I am certain of it. He is devouring me. His tongue sweeps over the place he has bitten, drawing another helpless sound from my throat. Then he begins to move upwards, leaving slow, wet kisses along my neck.
“Eyes, Caitríona,” he murmurs. “Watch us.”
He straightens slightly and removes his other hand from the sink. His fingers find one of the thin straps of my dress and ease it slowly down my shoulder. Every brush of his fingertips sends another shiver through me. His mouth returns to my neck. He leaves no part of it untouched, unkissed or unbitten. The hard pressure against my back becomes even more pronounced, and I know he is every bit as consumed by this as I am.
“Can you feel it?” he asks.
I am incapable of answering. My heart feels ready to burst straight through my dress. A moan slips from me instead. His eyes hold mine in the mirror.
“Can you feel this, Caitríona?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I can feel it.” Satisfaction darkens his gaze. He moves higher, taking my earlobe between his lips and sucking gently before catching it with his teeth.
“Good,” he whispers into my ear. His tongue strokes the sensitive hollow behind it. It is too much. His breath, his mouth, the slow movement of his tongue, every shift of his body behind mine. I experience it all as if I have fallen into a trance, each sensation drawn out and sharpened until there is room for nothing else. I press my hips back against him. The low, sensual groan that leaves him sends another fierce rush of desire through me. His arm remains locked around my waist as his other hand slides up to the second strap of my dress. He eases it slowly down my shoulder, his fingertips grazing my skin. Then he gathers my hair into his fist and pulls my head back just enough to expose my neck. Still holding me tightly against him, he lowers his face to the sensitive spot beneath my ear and draws in a deep breath.
“You smell incredible.”
The words vibrate against my skin. He loosens his hold on my hair and lets it spill forwards over one bare shoulder. My knees nearly give way.
The clatter from the other room pulls us, however reluctantly, from the trance we have fallen into. I cannot say I am grateful for the interruption. I am still entirely under Alex’s spell. “Fuck,” he breathes against my hair. I feel every hard line of his body pressed against my back, and it takes me far too long to lift my head from his chest. When I finally manage it, his eyes are already waiting for mine in the mirror. I shift within his embrace and turn to face him. His arms remain locked firmly around me. I place both hands against his chest and try to create some distance between us. It makes absolutely no difference. I tip my head back and look into his eyes. I want him so badly it frightens me. But I know exactly how disastrous this could be. I need to think clearly. I cannot allow myself to be swept away by his charm. Getting involved with him could be the worst decision I ever make for my career.
And this man is undoubtedly a womaniser. I cannot fall for him. The thought of the hundreds of women who may have passed through his bed sends a sudden, sharp surge of anger through me. I squeeze my eyes shut. Imagining the heartbreak that would inevitably follow if I allowed this to happen finally puts a small crack in the spell surrounding us. The sounds from the other room continue.
“This is so wrong,” I say, keeping my eyes firmly closed. His response is immediate. “Eyes, Caitríona.” “No.” I refuse to open them because I know what will happen if I see those endless blues again. I will surrender. “Please take me home. I don’t want to stay here.” Even without looking at him, I can feel how deeply he dislikes my answer.
The arms wrapped around my waist loosen slightly. His palms settle just above my bottom before sliding slowly upwards, never quite leaving my body. They travel over my sides until they reach my bare shoulders. His thumbs stroke along my collarbones. My breath catches.
“Don’t move ,” he says in that deep, commanding voice. When he leaves me alone in the bathroom, I finally open my eyes. The emptiness is immediate. My breathing gradually begins to steady. At least my chest no longer feels as though it is about to spill from my dress. I pull the straps back over my shoulders, but everywhere his hands have touched me continues to burn. The ache between my thighs has become unbearable. After several moments that feel like an entire lifetime, Alex strides back into the bathroom with his usual confidence, a cold compress in one hand. It occurs to me that I have obeyed him completely. I have not moved a single millimetre. Judging by the satisfied curve of his mouth as he stops before me, he has noticed too.
He leans closer and presses the cold compress against the bruising on my arm where Tom grabbed me. “Ouch.” The cold stings, but the relief is immediate. His large hand closes carefully around my slender arm, and even the difference in our size feels indecently sexy. Yet beneath all that impossible attraction, there is something else in the way he tends to me. A deliberate care that feels far too intimate.
Why do you have to be like this, Alex?
He removes the compress, bends lower and presses his lips gently against the tender skin. It is impossible not to melt where I stand. I clear my throat softly and attempt to step away. The electricity between us refuses to fade, but this time he allows me to retreat. “Your fucking Diet Coke and chips have arrived,” he says, his tone mocking as he repeats my earlier words. I squeeze through the narrow space between Alex and the sink and escape the bathroom. He follows without any hurry at all. I sit on the sofa and glance over my shoulder. He approaches slowly, his hands tucked into his pockets, every step lazy and assured. He looks like a predator. And I am very clearly the prey.
I have no doubt whatsoever that he intends to take his time enjoying me. Alex takes his time crossing the room. When he reaches me, he sits on the coffee table directly in front of the sofa, close enough that his knees brush mine.
He nudges the tray of chips beside him towards me. “Are you going to eat now?”His voice is low and firm, and something about the way he is watching me makes the simple question feel far more intimate than it has any right to. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans towards me.
I should not look at his mouth. I absolutely should not stare at those soft, heated lips that could probably devour me without leaving a single piece behind. His tongue appears, slowly wetting his bottom lip while his eyes remain fixed on mine.
Predator.
He really does see me as his prey. His gaze drops to my mouth, and only then do I realise my lips are parted. Before my mind can fill with images of him kissing me, I lean forwards, take a chip from the tray beside him and put it into my mouth.
The steak that arrived earlier is gone. My handbag is sitting at the end of the sofa, forgotten for what must be the hundredth time today. Someone must have brought it in with the rest of the food. I chew slowly. The chip is absurdly good. Crisp, hot and salted perfectly. I swallow and look at Alex. “Happy?”
“Not yet.”
He picks up another chip and holds it in front of my mouth. “Open.” And like an obedient little fool, I do. He feeds it to me, watching as I bite down.
God, these chips are good.
My eyes close without permission, and a quiet moan slips from my throat. When I open them again, Alex is staring at me through eyes burning a deeper shade of blue. He lifts his fingers towards his mouth, as though he is about to lick away the oil left on them. But instead, he reaches for another chip and offers it to me. I open my mouth again. This time, I have no idea where the courage comes from. As his thumb and forefinger brush between my lips, I do not let them go. My hand closes around his forearm, where his shirt sleeve has been pushed back, exposing all that firm, beautiful muscle. Then I suck his index finger into my mouth. Slowly. My eyes never leave his as I release it and take his thumb next. Alex’s gaze darkens instantly. His breathing changes. Rougher. Less controlled. My eyes drop, and I see the hard swell beneath the front of his trousers becoming even more pronounced.
“Do you know what you’re doing, Caitríona?” he asks.
I release his thumb and turn slightly, reaching for my ice-cold Diet Coke, the glass packed with cubes. I close my eyes as I take a long sip. Then, this time deliberately, I moan. I open one eye and give him the most wicked smile I can manage. Alex looks painfully aroused. He also looks dangerous.
“You want to play games?” he asks, his voice low and rough, the words carrying a warning that sends heat straight through me. I open my other eye.
“What games?” His eyes narrow. His gaze drops slowly to my mouth. “I’m giving you a chance to behave.” Then his eyes come back to mine. A tiny smile pulls at my lips. “Is that a threat?”
“No.”
“And if I don’t?”
His stare holds mine. “Then you’ll find out what happens when I stop behaving too.” Oh. I reach for my Diet Coke again. “No. I want to go home and see Nounou.” It is the most sensible and urgent thing I can possibly do. Because otherwise, I am going to start having sex with this man right here, with absolutely no concern for the consequences. And I do not have the strength to survive the heartbreak that will come afterwards.
Alex rises in front of me as if he hasn’t heard a single word I’ve said. Our knees brush as he stands. It is barely a touch, but with the state I’m already in, it sends another hot little shock straight through me. Exactly what I don’t need when I’m already painfully aware of how wet I am. He reaches past me towards the corner of the sofa and picks up my handbag. I tilt my head back, watching him. Then he unzips it. And starts rummaging through it.
My irritation arrives instantly. I put my Coke down hard on the coffee table and get to my feet.
“What are you doing?”
His brows are drawn together in concentration. He doesn’t even look at me. He simply keeps searching, turning things over inside my bag as though it belongs to him. What the hell is he looking for? It’s a tiny baguette bag. There is hardly enough room in there to lose anything. “Alex?” Still nothing. Then, apparently deciding that searching normally is taking far too long, he turns the entire bag upside down over the sofa. My phone, cardholder, keys, lip balm, notebook and miniature perfume tumble onto the cushion. “Alex! What are you doing?”
His eyes finally lift to mine.
“Solving your problem.”
Of course he is. God forbid he gives me a normal answer. “It would be lovely if you occasionally spoke like an ordinary human being so I could understand you.” He bends over the sofa and picks up my keys. My keys. He slips the large metal ring over his index finger and studies them for a moment. Then he moves. So suddenly that I barely have time to react. One arm comes around my waist and pulls me firmly against him. My hands land against his warm, solid chest. My eyes betray me immediately and drop to his mouth. His do exactly the same.
I see his lips part. And suddenly I’m breathing too quickly again. His voice comes low and rough between us. “You wanted Nounou. I’m bringing her to you.” Why do you want to bring Nounou here instead of simply taking me home? Why are you dragging this dangerous little dance out when I am already hanging on by a thread? My own lips part.
The solid heat of his body beneath my palms is sweet torture. I force myself to breathe properly and reach for the hand holding my keys. “If you take me home, none of this will be necessary.” He simply lifts his arm. My keys sail completely out of reach. I stare at him. Seriously? I rise onto my toes and reach for them.
“Keep still, Caitríona.”
I stretch higher. So does he. “Alex!”
Every time I wriggle against him trying to reach the bloody things, I end up pressed even more tightly against his body. Which is doing absolutely nothing for my ability to think. His arm remains locked around my waist as I stretch onto my toes again.
“I’m having Nounou brought here. You are going to finish your dinner. End of discussion.”
“No!” The answer flies out of me. “Nounou won’t go with anyone else. I want to go home, Alex.” His expression changes. His jaw tightens, and there it is in his eyes. That look. Do not push me. Naturally, I push him.
I plant both hands on his shoulders, use him for leverage and jump for the keys. Nothing. Not even close. Before my feet are properly back on the floor, his arm locks around my waist and pulls me firmly against him.
“Give them to me!”
“No!”
I twist in his hold and reach again, stretching as far as I can. He simply lifts the keys higher. “Alex!”
I wriggle harder, trying to turn out of his arm, but his grip tightens and drags me straight back against him.
“Stop fighting me!”
“Give me my bloody keys!”
I make another grab for them. This time he catches my wrist with his free hand and brings it down between us, effectively trapping me. I glare up at him. He looks completely unmoved.
“You are not going anywhere.” His voice sharpens. “You’re drunk.”
“I am not!”
Actually, after what happened between us a few minutes ago, I feel remarkably alert. Every hormone in my body appears to have gathered for a bloody festival because of this man.
“I’m going home.”
“No, you’re fucking not!” His answer comes instantly.
“You are not going anywhere tonight.” I stop struggling. Why does he care this much? Why is he so determined to keep me here? Why is he behaving as if the thought of me leaving is personally offensive? I need to calm down. More importantly, I need to calm him down.
Realising brute force is getting me nowhere, I stop wriggling and he lowers me slowly. The movement pulls at the raw skin at the back of my ankle, sending a sharp sting through it. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Don’t swear.” My eyes open. He still looks furious, but the moment he realises I’m in pain, something in his expression shifts. His arm remains firmly around me.
“Nounou is coming here. You’re eating. Then I’m looking at that ankle.” His eyes flick briefly towards my feet before returning to mine. “And before you start, no. None of this is up for debate.”
My ankle really does hurt.Quite a lot. But surrendering to Alexander Ashcroft feels like a very dangerous habit to develop. I look into those impossibly blue eyes.
The anger is still there, but now there is something else beneath it. Concern. I speak more calmly. “You can’t have Nounou brought here, Alex. She won’t come with someone she doesn’t know.” His hold on me tightens slightly, and for a moment he just looks at me, something unreadable moving behind those blue eyes. He lowers his head towards me. His mouth comes close to my ear. Too close. His breath brushes my skin as he whispers,
“I can’t let you go.”
Oh God.
I have to concentrate very hard on not falling straight back under whatever sexual spell this man seems able to cast over me whenever he pleases. He draws back just enough to look at me.
“And I have your house keys.”
Bastard.
But he has a point. Our eyes lock again. I need some time alone. Some distance. Because apparently whenever Alexander Ashcroft is within touching distance, my common sense simply packs its bags and leaves.
“Fine.” I exhale. “You go and get Nounou.”
The moment he realises I’ve surrendered, satisfaction settles over his face. Infuriating satisfaction. Then, with absurdly gentlemanly politeness, he inclines his head. “See? We’re getting somewhere.” Before I can respond, he bends towards me. His lips press slowly against my cheekbone. Not a quick kiss. Not remotely innocent. A long, deliberate press of his mouth that leaves heat behind when he finally pulls away. “Finish your dinner,” he murmurs. His eyes hold mine. “And behave.”
Then his arm disappears from around my waist. Cold air replaces him immediately. Before I can work out what he’s doing, he reaches down, steals one of my chips and puts it into his mouth. I stare at him. He chews as he starts towards the door.
“Fucking hell. These are good,” he mutters to himself. Then he walks out of the office with those infuriatingly confident strides, taking my keys with him. The door closes. A second later, I hear the lock turn. I stare at it.
He has actually locked me in.
Unbelievable.
If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a like, comment your favourite part and restack it so more romance addicts can find us 🖤 I need to know which moment got you most because, personally, I have a serious weakness for completely unhinged Alex 🙈🔥
A💋
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