Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males (46 page)

“Hi,” she said.

“You have a cute voice,” he said.
 
“I knew you would.”

“How’d you know?”

“Just had a feeling,” he said.
 
“I’ve learned my instincts are usually
very dead on.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said.
 
“What are your instincts telling you
right now?”

“That you and I are going to be on the phone
for a very long time.”

He was right.
 
They talked for hours that night, about
everything and nothing.
 
She told
him how she got started writing, how she’d always wanted to be a writer, how it
had taken her three years and seven books before she sold something, but how
she’d never once entertained the possibility of giving up. He told her how he
hated finance.
 
It paid the bills,
but his dream was to move out to the country with a couple of dogs and live off
the land.

When they finally hung up, she was so wired she
couldn’t sleep.
 
So she stayed up
all night writing.
 
He was doing
wonders for her productivity.

They talked every night while he was in
California.
 
The time difference
worked out perfectly.
 
He’d call her
when he got home from work at around eight his time, eleven hers.
 
They’d talk for a couple of hours, and
when he went to sleep, she’d stay up late writing.

The book she wrote during that time was, in her
opinion, the best one she’d ever written, and she was sure Chace had a lot to
do with that.
 
Every time she’d hang
up the phone, electricity would be zinging through her body, and her stomach
would have those butterflies you got when you had a crush on someone.
 
She was able to channel that into her
writing.
 
She’d never been a night
writer,
 
but during that time, it was
what felt natural.

Still, she knew there was more than a chance
that it would be different when they finally got together.
 
It was an internet relationship.
 
No matter how good their chemistry was
on the phone, it didn’t guarantee there would be chemistry in person.
 
She loved his laugh, loved his voice,
loved the jokes he told, and the way he spoke about politics and sports and
movies.
 
But that was much different
than being in someone’s presence, seeing the way they moved, the way they held
themselves, how they looked when they were thinking about something or the way
their hand felt when they held yours.

Of course, she spent her days and nights
writing romance novels.
 
She was
conditioned to believe in happy endings, that there was a person out there for
everyone. But part of the reason she loved writing books where everything
always worked out was because she knew it didn’t usually happen that way.

When Chace got back from California a couple of
weeks later, he wanted to hang out immediately.
 
She agreed, mostly because the
anticipation had been building for so long she kind of just wanted to get it
over with.

She spent way too much money on a pair of Seven
Jeans and a cute, off the shoulder sweater that dipped down in front and showed
off her cleavage.
 
She got her hair
highlighted, bought new shoes, and even went for a pedicure.

He’d given her a choice of what she wanted to
do, had offered to take her out to dinner or cook for her at his place.
 
She’d picked his place, mostly because
she thought she’d be more relaxed at his apartment than in some fancy
restaurant where she had to worry about things like which fork to use. And
something about the idea of him cooking for her was extremely sexy.

When she got to his building, her heart was
beating so hard she didn’t know if she’d be able to hear anything over the
sound of it.
 
She buzzed his
apartment and waited, smoothing her palms against her jeans.

“Hello?”
 
His voice came over the intercom, the same sexy voice that had spent all
those hours with her on the phone, only this time, he sounded closer.
 
The thought of him being in the same
building as her sent nervous excitement running through her body.

“It’s me,” she said.
 
“I’m here.”

“Hey, Inspiration,” Chace said, “I’ll be right
down.”

The sixty seconds it took for him to come
downstairs felt like the longest minute of her life.
 
There was a mirror hanging in the lobby,
and she kept fussing with her hair, pulling it over her shoulders, arranging
it, wanting it to be perfect for the first moment he saw her.

When the elevator doors finally opened and he
stepped off, her breath caught.
 
He’d been gorgeous in the picture, but it was nothing compared to how he
looked in person.
 
He moved with a
confident ease as he got off the elevator, smiling when he saw her.

“It’s you,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, breathless.
  
“It’s me.”

He hugged her, and she felt tiny against
him.
 
She could feel the strength of
his chest through the sweater he was wearing.
 
He smelled like a musky cologne, and she
inhaled the scent.

When he pulled back, he looked at her for a
moment.
 
Attraction passed between
them, so strong you could almost hear it crackle in the air.
 

“God,” he said, shaking his head.
 
“I just.. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I know,” she said.
 
She couldn’t help smiling.
 
“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s awesome,” he said.
 
“Wow.”
 
He shook his head again.
 
“I can’t believe how pretty you are.”

She flushed then, and her heart twisted in
relief.
 
She’d been afraid she
wouldn’t be enough for him, that he would be disappointed when he saw her, when
she wasn’t just a voice the phone.
 

He cooked her dinner, chicken parm with
rigatoni, warm ciabatta rolls brushed with olive oil, and red wine.
 
She was careful to have only one glass,
not wanting the night to be marred by some kind of alcohol-induced weirdness.

He had one glass as well, and by the time
dinner was over, the awkwardness had melted away, and Lindsay was shocked to
find that she didn’t feel self-conscious at all.
 
She wasn’t worried that her laugh was
too loud, or how she should sit to make sure he didn’t notice her jeans were a
little tight, or if she had tomato sauce on her face.

It was actually the opposite.
 
She felt like she could be herself,
didn’t have to worry about anything.
 
It was exactly as it had been on the phone.

Until they were done eating dinner. She’d
insisted on helping clean up, and they’d just finished loading the dishwasher
and were standing in Chace’s kitchen.
 

Suddenly, she became hyper aware of his
physical presence.
 
Obviously she’d
always been aware of it – they’d spent the last two hours together.
 
But now that she didn’t have food or her
initial nervousness to distract her, the electricity was back full force, that
same feeling she’d had when she’d first seen him downstairs.
 
Butterflies were swarming around in her
stomach, somersaulting and diving and making her feel tingly all over.

“So,” he said, leaning back against the counter
and giving her the once over.
 
She
felt his eyes lingering on her body, and he grinned, like he liked what he saw.
 
“What do you want to do now?”

What she wanted was for him to kiss her, to
peel off all her clothes until she was completely naked, and then make love to
her right here on the kitchen floor.
 

“I don’t… I mean, it’s getting late.”
 
It was a canned response, something
she’d taught herself to say at the end of dates, just in case the guy was
looking for an excuse to get rid of her.
 
She’d watched enough movies and heard enough horror stories about girls
who hung around long after their welcome to know sometimes you had to put it
out there to make sure you weren’t being an annoying hanger.

Chace glanced at the clock.
 
“It’s only ten o’clock,” he said.

“Yeah, well…”
 
She couldn’t speak.
 
No man had ever had this kind of effect
on her, no man had ever made her feel this way.
 
The attraction between them sparked
through the room.
 
Did he feel it?

He took a step closer, putting his arms on
either side of her hips, gripping the counter behind her, essentially trapping
her.

“So I guess you’re leaving then?” he asked, his
eyes on hers.
 
His voice was low and
sexy, the voice he sometimes got on the phone when it was getting late and he
was tired, the voice she’d fantasized about whispering into her ear.

“I should probably, yes,” she said.
 
It was a nonsensical sentence.
 
Every nerve ending in her body was on
high alert, every sense was at its peak.
 
She tried to memorize every line of his face, the cut of his jaw, the
dark smoothness of his eyes, the tiny little scar he had on his forehead.

“You sure?” He was teasing her, knew damn well
she wasn’t going anywhere.
 
“Because
I bought some dessert.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”
 
He took another step forward, and now his body was pressed against
hers.
 
“But if you have to go…”

“Well,” she said.
 
“I wouldn’t want to be rude.
 
If you bought dessert and
everything.”
 
Her heart was beating
almost out of her chest, and she knew he could hear it.
 
His body was too close to hers, and it
was completely quiet in the kitchen.

He took his hand and put it on her heart.
 
“Nervous?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Liar.”
 
He grinned, but didn’t move, just stayed there, a half smile on his
face, watching her, waiting to see who was going to blink first.

Lindsay kept her gaze on his.
 
His hand was still over her heart, and
his touch was making her hot and heady.
 

He slid his fingers over her skin slowly, until
his hand was on the back of her neck, right on the soft spot behind her
ear.
 
The gesture, even though so
small, was the most erotic thing Lindsay had ever felt.
 

He pulled her head toward his, until there was
just a sliver of space separating their lips.
 
Lindsay closed her eyes and waited for
the kiss.
 
He made her wait a second
longer than was necessary, causing the anticipation to burn so bright she felt
her knees go weak.

Then his mouth was on hers.
 
Fireworks exploded behind her eyes.
 
His lips were strong and soft at the
same time.
 
She wrapped her arms
around his neck, and he slipped his hands off the counter behind her and
encircled her waist.

Time stopped.
 
They kissed for what seemed like
forever.

“Let me take you upstairs,” he said
finally.
 
It was a command, not a
question, but Lindsay didn’t have to be asked.

She nodded, and he took her hand.
 

When they got to the bedroom, he took his
time.
 
He pulled her clothes off
slowly, like he wanted to savor her in every level of undress.
 
And the kissing, my God, the
kissing!
 
What had started off slow
upped in intensity.

She usually felt vulnerable being naked with a
man for the first time – not that there had been that many – but
with Chace, she didn’t feel any of that.
 
He made her feel beautiful, the way he pushed her hair back from her
face, the way he would stop kissing her for a moment to stare into her eyes,
the way he stroked her skin.

It was two hours before they were completely
naked.
 
And even then, he lay on top
of her, kissing her, until she was breathless.

“God, Lindsay,” he whispered.

He slid in slowly, still taking his time.
 
He began to move slowly, then faster and
faster, the pleasure building in her body until it exploded. They climaxed at
the same time, and when it was over, he pulled her close.
 

They lay there like that, him stroking her hair
and kissing her forehead, not saying anything.
 
She drifted in and out, somewhere
between wakefulness and sleep, drowsy and high off their love-making.