“What’s this?” she asked as she scanned the numbers detailed in the spreadsheet.
“One hundred thousand dollars in donations. How’s that for a couple weeks of work?”
She blinked. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Did you say one hundred thousand dollars, as in US dollars?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I said. I’m glad I was able to say something to get your attention.”
Her mouth dropped open and she shook her head. “No way. How’d you do it?”
“I told you. I have lots of contacts and they were more than happy to donate to the Foundation.”
She dropped her coffee mug on the counter and flung herself toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist before kissing him on each cheek. “Please tell me you know more people,” she said, smiling up at him.
His body stiffened under her hands and his eyes darkened, the dark blue of his irises nearly merging with his swollen pupils. Then it hit her. She practically wrapped her braless, pajama-clad body around this man she knew next to nothing about except that he can raise money like it’s falling out of the sky.
“Plenty,” he answered, his voice thick like velvet.
As she stepped back, his hand moved to her lower back, pulling her forward again, his body pressing into hers, his heat seeping through the thin cotton of her white tank top, his spicy citrus scent filling her lungs. It was way too personal and intimate and that thought alone caused her heart to drum against her ribs.
She should step away, but his fathomless eyes held her captive and she couldn’t do anything but stare back at him, taking in every detail of his face—his slightly crooked angular nose, the light scar that ran through his left eyebrow, his full lips that begged to be touched. No part of him was perfect, but taken as a whole, he was the epitome of perfection, and as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, she liked the feel of his hard body next her, his big, warm hand pressing into her back sheltering her from God knows what, but damn it felt amazing.
For long, combustible seconds, neither of them moved, the sound of their breathing echoing in the sudden silence of the room. His fingertips whispered along her jaw line, more of a suggestion than a real touch, and even with that little contact, her skin was on fire wanting more of Alec than any woman with half a brain should.
“Sorry,” she finally said, dropping her hands from his waist as her eyes bounced around the room, trying to find safety from his soul-searching gaze. “I don’t know. I got a little excited and I just—”
“Threw yourself at me,” he finished for her, a mocking smile tainting the beauty of his lips.
“Something like that,” she mumbled as she closed her eyes in horror, certain that thirty shades of pink colored her hopelessly pale skin.
He dropped his hand from her back and took a couple steps away from her. She immediately missed his touch. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”
She believed him. Everything about Alec Reed, from his walk to his velvet voice and his angry tattoos, screamed of sex and sin, and there was no doubt in her mind that most women would die to give him anything and everything he wanted. She couldn’t let herself be one of them. She turned her back to him, adding a teaspoon or two of sugar to her black coffee, stirring it, tasting it, trying to ignore Alec because she felt like a fool, no—an unoriginal fool.
“Violet?” His voice was soft and barely audible. Her name would have gone undetected if the room weren’t incredibly silent, every sound echoing and amplifying unnaturally.
“Uh huh,” she answered without turning around. She couldn’t look at him yet and then he placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging the tension that had become a permanent fixture over the last year and she couldn’t stop herself. She leaned into his heat again, soaking up every ounce of attention he’d give her.
“I’m just fucking with you,” he whispered next to her ear, his warm breath and darkly sensual voice causing all kinds of turmoil in her mind and maybe an unexpected shiver or two that she’d never admit to. He kissed the top of her head before turning around to face him, his face only inches from her, his dark magnetic eyes sucking her in like nothing she’d ever felt before.
She stepped to the side. “What’s that?” she asked, waving her hand toward the bags on the table. She needed to change the subject fast. For her, a woman who’d only had a couple relationships in her life, this situation was dipping into dangerous territory.
He exhaled loudly before he walked to the table and pulled out all kinds of food, setting them on the counter. “Groceries.”