I hold my hand up, halting any further explanation. “Can we talk?”

He lets out a long breath. “Sure.” He steps aside, allowing me to lead us downstairs. I walk us to the kitchen, opting to take seats at the island. That seems to be his favorite spot in the house, and I want him to be as relaxed as possible around me. Right now he seems so tense.

“So . . .” I trail off. This was a terrible idea. I have no idea what to say and I’m sure I’m only making this worse.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Twice. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me or feel like—”

“Just stop. You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to, so quit trying to be a damn martyr and take all the blame.” He sits up straight surprised by my directness. Then it happens. Our eyes lock and everything around us fades away, including a clear mind. He licks his lips and it’s my undoing. I grab the lapels of his suit jacket and pull him to me until our lips touch. At first he’s stiff, shocked by my sudden attack. But once I run my tongue along the seam of his lips, he caves. Soon we’re all hands and mouths, feeling and tasting. We’re drinking each other in like we’ve just hiked one-hundred miles through the Sahara. My hands become frantic as they run up and down his hard chest, trying to map out every solid plane.

His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me up off the stool and into his hard body. My hands slide under his jacket and up over his shoulders causing it to fall off. Removing his hands from my waist, he lets the jacket drop to the floor before grabbing hold of me again. He does a quarter turn so that my back is pressed against the kitchen island. Without disconnecting our lips, he hoists me on top of the counter. The sudden movement causes me to yelp in surprise, but the small noise is swallowed by his mouth. Alex parts my thighs, settling in to stand between them. The fabric of my skirt cuts into my legs as it strains against my widened position, but I couldn’t care less. My skirt could rip in two right now and it wouldn’t bother me.

Alex’s mouth leaves mine to plant kisses up and down my neck. My back arches and I moan in response when he hits the sweet spot behind me ear. A low growl rumbles up from the back of his throat sounding restrained. Grabbing hold of his tie, I pull him with me as I lie back on the counter before reattaching my lips to his. He reaches for the top button on my blouse and fumbles around with it for a few seconds. “Fuck it,” he mumbles against my lips before he takes my shirt in each hand and pulls it apart forcefully. The buttons pop and scatter across the counter and floor. It’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever done to me, and if I wasn’t wet before, I’m drenched now.

His right hand palms my bra covered breast as his other hand skims down my ribcage. I close my eyes as his mouth makes a path down my sternum, in between my breasts, and down my stomach to the waistband of my skirt. My brain picks this moment to flash the red light and warning sirens. Oh God, what the hell am I doing?

Danger.

It’s the one word I see in neon running through my mind. What will happen if Cal gets wind of this?

“A-Alex,” I stutter breathlessly.

“Hmmm,” he murmurs against my stomach.

“We . . . we need . . . to stop.” I let out a moan when he pinches my nipple, making my plea sound even more unconvincing. Gathering every bit of strength I can, I plant my hands on his chest and push him off of me. We’re both breathing heavily, looking at each other with lust-filled eyes, our desires nowhere near fulfilled.

His hands fist in his hair. “Fuck!” he shouts, looking up at the ceiling. “What is it about you?” he says in a strained voice. His eyes squeeze shut as his hands pull at the ends of his hair in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I know you were just trying to tell me that this couldn’t happen again and then I initiated it.” To be honest, I’m not sorry. This is the most alive I’ve ever felt. I won’t apologize for that, but I am sorry for the position I’ve put Alex in. He’s clearly conflicted over all of this. It’s not like I’m completely okay with it, but I can tell this battle he’s fighting is torture for him and I’m not making it any easier.

“It’s not your fault.” He looks at me and gives me that sexy half grin with an arched eyebrow. “Well, maybe this time it is.” I smile despite the seriousness of the moment, thankful that he’s added some levity to this. Sighing, he says, “So where do we go from here?” Isn’t that the million-dollar question? It’s not like we can sweep it under the rug and pretend it didn’t happen. If this was a onetime occurrence, maybe. But this seems to be happening every time we’re in close proximity of each other alone.

“I’m going to go change since my shirt is, uh,” I look down at it, “ruined.” The small smirk that crosses his face doesn’t escape me. “Then I’m going to come back to the living room and watch some trashy TV Would you like to join me?”

Expelling another sigh, he says, “Yeah, I’ll meet you back down here. I’ve got a situation myself that needs . . . readjusting.” My eyes trail down his chest, his abdomen, and stop when I see exactly what he’s referring to. His pants are tented, his erection straining against his zipper painfully so. My cheeks flush and I quickly look away, but internally I’m giving myself a high five knowing that I affect him just as much as he does me. Biting my lip, I turn and head for my bedroom so I can change my shirt.

Once I’m in the privacy of my room, I allow what happened to wash over me. The pull between Alex and I is undeniable, and it obviously isn’t one sided. There’s an electricity that continuously hums, growing stronger, when we’re around each other. God help me, but I desperately seek what he gives me. The comfort, the attention, the way he smiles at me, the way he searches my soul with his blue eyes, the way he seems to see me when no one else in my life does, and his touch. One simple touch from him sends my body into a frenzy and my brain stops functioning. All I’m able to do is feel and live in the moment, consequences be damned.

I quickly throw on another blouse and go downstairs, my mind no clearer now than it was when I came up here. When I enter the living room, I can tell Alex is in the same state as I am. He’s sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, and his head hanging low. I clear my throat so I don’t startle him. His head turns to the side and what I see takes my breath away. Sitting before me is a man so strong, yet so vulnerable. I see it in the rawness of his stare that this is long from over between us. The embers set ablaze haven’t been dowsed for a second; if anything they’re simmering, ready to ignite an inferno.

Taking a deep breath to clear my thoughts, I walk over to the couch and have a seat. There’s a whole cushion separating us, and it’s too close yet too far. “I hope you’re ready for some life altering television,” I say, trying to get us back to where we were before we let our bodies make all the decisions.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I can tell he’s less than enthused probably guessing that I’m about to turn on some brain cell killing reality television.

And he’d be right in his assumption.

I flip through the recordings on my DVR until I come to the latest episode of The Real Housewives of D.C. Alex snorts next to me when I click play. “Life altering, huh?” he deadpans.

“Hey, don’t judge me.” I squint my eyes at him and pretend to be offended even though I’m not. I really don’t know how I got sucked into these shows. Maybe on some level watching these train wrecks makes me feel slightly better about my life. Although, I’m not sure if my life is any worse or less complicated than theirs is at this point.

He puts his hands up in surrender. “No judgment here. I’m actually looking forward to it. I can’t wait to see who flips a table next,” he says in a girly voice that has me laughing. We watch the first five minutes until we fall into conversation. I learn a lot about him and his family. It’s clear his sister, Angela, holds a special place in his heart. It’s endearing to hear him talk about her with such reverence, the warmth in his eyes giving away how much he loves and misses her. His devotion to his family is something I can relate to and completely understand. After all, it’s that devotion that has me stuck in this hell I call my life.