seconds. He knew because he counted every single one. When he realized what he was doing, he shot to his feet and grabbed the remote, flicking on the huge plasma television. Pretty soon he clicked that off and started to pace but eventually ended up staring out at the night lights through the window. Another five minutes and his patience felt as if it had been put through a shredder. Twice.
Normally, once he’d dismissed something from his mind, it stayed gone. Yet his second thoughts about Yelena’s involvement in Carlos’s scheme had bizarrely festered, chewing away at his thoughts until he realized he had to take action. It had only increased in urgency after his one-sided conversation with Chelsea thirty minutes before.
Yet as the minutes ticked by his thoughts were not on his sister’s sullen countenance but on Yelena. Yelena in the shower. Naked. Hot water running over her silky skin, making it slick and slippery—
“What did you want to talk about?”
He whirled, swallowing a groan. She stood in the entrywrapped in a Diamond Bay robe, her long hair tousled and damp, curling down her back.
The urgent craving to kiss her—hard—engulfed him.
Almost as if he’d voiced the desire, she rocked onto her back foot. “Alex? Has something happened?”
His groin tightened as he bit off a bitter laugh. Yeah, something’s happened. With a deep breath, he forced his mouth into a smile.
“I ordered room service.”
She blinked then grabbed her clothes where she’d tossed them on the floor. “Thank you. But that wasn’t necessary.”
“I thought we could discuss this campaign over dinner.” When she paused in her folding he smiled again, this time a sincere one. “You have to eat.”
The silence stood for a few seconds until she nodded. “I’ll get dressed.”
Yelena whirled on her heel, forcing herself not to run into the bedroom and slam the door. It’s business. Remember that. Yet everything she remembered of Alex contradicted that hollow statement.
After vigorously rubbing her still-damp hair, she quickly stepped into underwear then shoved on a pair of soft pink cashmere track pants and a plain black T-shirt, securing her hair into a high ponytail. A quick check of Bella deep in sleep and she was ready to face Alex. One deep, fortifying breath—okay, two—and she finally walked out into the lounge room.
The sight of him made that last breath shudder in her chest. Even with his back to her, he still commanded her focus. Tall and muscular, that was Alex. He always made her feel feminine, even delicate, which was no mean feat given her height. His wide shoulders were capable of taking on a hundred worries, weathering any crisis. He was like a house built on iron-clad foundations.
She’d once overheard Carlos describe him as “entitled andarrogant” but she knew all too well strength and conviction could be misinterpreted as arrogance by some.
As he shifted, her eyes went to the curve of his neck, to the tanned exposed skin just above his collar.
Her body tightened as a bolt of desire shot through every womanly part. She knew how he felt beneath those clothes, that solid chest, those sweetly curved biceps, the delicious way his muscles bunched and rippled beneath hot, touchable skin.
As her senses prickled with remembrance, she watched Alex shuffle through the press clippings she’d left open on the table. It took a few moments to recognize his expression but when she did it sent her back a step.
Every muscle in his face, every line had contracted into something so blatantly raw and painful that it made her throat constrict. This whole situation affected him more than he’d ever admit. As she watched him flick through the clippings, a soft curse crossed his lips.
Her heart ached for him at that moment, compassion propelling her forward.
“It’s a weird paradox, isn’t it?” she said softly.
He turned, the shutters descending as he placed a hand on the stack. “What? Being
Normally, once he’d dismissed something from his mind, it stayed gone. Yet his second thoughts about Yelena’s involvement in Carlos’s scheme had bizarrely festered, chewing away at his thoughts until he realized he had to take action. It had only increased in urgency after his one-sided conversation with Chelsea thirty minutes before.
Yet as the minutes ticked by his thoughts were not on his sister’s sullen countenance but on Yelena. Yelena in the shower. Naked. Hot water running over her silky skin, making it slick and slippery—
“What did you want to talk about?”
He whirled, swallowing a groan. She stood in the entrywrapped in a Diamond Bay robe, her long hair tousled and damp, curling down her back.
The urgent craving to kiss her—hard—engulfed him.
Almost as if he’d voiced the desire, she rocked onto her back foot. “Alex? Has something happened?”
His groin tightened as he bit off a bitter laugh. Yeah, something’s happened. With a deep breath, he forced his mouth into a smile.
“I ordered room service.”
She blinked then grabbed her clothes where she’d tossed them on the floor. “Thank you. But that wasn’t necessary.”
“I thought we could discuss this campaign over dinner.” When she paused in her folding he smiled again, this time a sincere one. “You have to eat.”
The silence stood for a few seconds until she nodded. “I’ll get dressed.”
Yelena whirled on her heel, forcing herself not to run into the bedroom and slam the door. It’s business. Remember that. Yet everything she remembered of Alex contradicted that hollow statement.
After vigorously rubbing her still-damp hair, she quickly stepped into underwear then shoved on a pair of soft pink cashmere track pants and a plain black T-shirt, securing her hair into a high ponytail. A quick check of Bella deep in sleep and she was ready to face Alex. One deep, fortifying breath—okay, two—and she finally walked out into the lounge room.
The sight of him made that last breath shudder in her chest. Even with his back to her, he still commanded her focus. Tall and muscular, that was Alex. He always made her feel feminine, even delicate, which was no mean feat given her height. His wide shoulders were capable of taking on a hundred worries, weathering any crisis. He was like a house built on iron-clad foundations.
She’d once overheard Carlos describe him as “entitled andarrogant” but she knew all too well strength and conviction could be misinterpreted as arrogance by some.
As he shifted, her eyes went to the curve of his neck, to the tanned exposed skin just above his collar.
Her body tightened as a bolt of desire shot through every womanly part. She knew how he felt beneath those clothes, that solid chest, those sweetly curved biceps, the delicious way his muscles bunched and rippled beneath hot, touchable skin.
As her senses prickled with remembrance, she watched Alex shuffle through the press clippings she’d left open on the table. It took a few moments to recognize his expression but when she did it sent her back a step.
Every muscle in his face, every line had contracted into something so blatantly raw and painful that it made her throat constrict. This whole situation affected him more than he’d ever admit. As she watched him flick through the clippings, a soft curse crossed his lips.
Her heart ached for him at that moment, compassion propelling her forward.
“It’s a weird paradox, isn’t it?” she said softly.
He turned, the shutters descending as he placed a hand on the stack. “What? Being
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