The truth was, no matter how she felt about Chandler, she didn’t belong with him, and his brothers would never accept her. Chad’s appearance served as a brutal, much-needed wakeup call.
Alana needed to get out before she got even more invested, which seemed stupid, because how much more invested could she get?
Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and let the water and steam do its thing, wishing it could wash away Chandler’s presence as well as it did his scent, but that was foolish, wasn’t it?
This was a good thing, though, she told herself. Tomorrow she would be going back to work, back to reality. She still had her job. She still had that.
Alana wasn’t sure exactly how she knew she wasn’t alone. The door to the bathroom hadn’t creaked when it opened and she hadn’t been aware of the glass doors sliding, but she knew Chandler was there before she even opened her eyes.
He stood there, still shirtless, and his pants were hanging indecently low on his hips. His gaze traveled hungrily over her body, staying in some areas longer than others. The way her body responded ticked her off. Her nipples hardened under his greedy stare and liquid fire flooded her veins. Air sawed in and out of her lips slowly as his gaze finally settled back on hers.
Feeling incredibly vulnerable, which seemed kind of pointless at this moment, she folded her arms over her breasts. She had no idea what to say. Being naked in the shower did not make it easy for casual conversation.
“You shouldn’t hide yourself. You’re absolutely beautiful.”
His words created a nest of butterflies in her belly, but she kept her arms crossed. “Congratulations,” she blurted out, and then flushed at how random it came across.
His brows rose.
“For Maddie’s pregnancy. That’s such good news.” Her nails bit into her arms. “I’m really happy for all of you.”
“It is great news. Chase will make a wonderful father.” He leaned against the shower wall, seemingly oblivious to the spray. She wasn’t. Her eyes followed the trail of water down his chest, over his tight abs. “But I didn’t come up here to talk about that.”
Her chest spasmed. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “What Chad said downstairs was wrong. Without you, he wouldn’t be marrying her, and he knows that. I want you to know that he apologized.”
While she knew Chandler meant well by telling her this, she doubted Chad apologized before the punch in the face. “It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not.”
Having no idea how to respond to that, she turned around slowly, letting the hot spray of water wash over her face. Her skin pricked with awareness. “I don’t want to talk.”
“Is that an invitation?”
It shouldn’t be. God knew continuing to cross that line with him wasn’t smart. Her body and heart were at war with her head. She should tell him to leave, pack up herself, and get the hell out of here, but…
But what was one more time? One more night? It wouldn’t change the outcome, staying wouldn’t harshen the blow that was sure to come. It just wasn’t smart. Then again, she hadn’t been smart about any of this and look where she was? There was already an ache deep in her chest.
“Alana…”
The sound of her name on his lips sealed the deal. It was truly that seductive. He rolled her name around his tongue like he was tasting it. Looking over her shoulder at him, she drew in a shallow breath. “It is.”
Chandler stared at her for what felt like forever and then he had his pants off in record time. His arousal jutted out proudly, hard and thick, and molten lava filled in her belly.
He stepped into the shower, closing the door behind him. His hands landed on her hips and when he spoke, his voice whispered in her ear. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Alana shuddered. “You do?”
“Yes.” He kissed the scar on her shoulder, causing her heart to squeeze at the tender action. “You’re going to run.”
She stiffened, her arms clamped close to her chest. “I don’t…don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a shitty liar.” He turned her around and reached between them, wrapping his hands around her wrists. He backed her up until she was flush with the cold tile. “You have that look in your eyes. Never really seen it before—the whole deer-in-the-headlights look. But you have it. You’re going to run.”
“You need to get your eyes checked, then.”
“Smartass,” he murmured. “Still a shitty liar. And you know what? That’s okay.” He transferred her wrists to one hand and placed his free hand on her hip. Tipping their foreheads together, he breathed in deeply. “Run if it makes you feel better and helps you sleep at night. It’s not the worst possible thing you could do.”
Alana wanted to deny it, because the accusation, no matter how spot-on it was, made her feel weak.
“So run. I don’t mind.” His lips blazed a path over her cheek and his teeth sank into her earlobe, causing her to moan. “I like to chase, Alana.”
A bolt of red-hot lust slammed from her pulse and straight to her belly. “I don’t like to be chased.”
“You will when it’s me.” He slowly lifted her joined hands above her head as he slid his free hand over the curve of her rear, lifting her up until she was on the tips of her toes. “I will chase you. And I will catch you.”
Chandler pressed forward, his erection firmly against her stomach. It felt like he was crushing her, or at least that was how it seemed for a panicked second. Raw emotions poured into her chest. She should push him away, stop this, but she tipped her head against the wall and her hips moved in slow circles.
“What’s between us isn’t casual.” His hot breath caressed her cheeks, sending shivers down her, and then moved down her throat again. “And you know that just as well as I do. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes.” His voice was raw, sexy, and pure sin. “Look at you. You can’t wait for me to get inside of you.”
It was true. She was wet, ready, and her hips kept moving against him. Already she could feel him inside her and it was a desire that was like a drug—an obsession.
Her eyes flew open as icy panic balled in her chest. “It’s not—”
His mouth was on her, the kiss rugged and rough. Sparks flew from deep inside her and his tongue swept in, silencing the breathy moan building. Everything was spiraling out of control. Hell, it was already out of control.
Chandler rocked against her as he lifted his head, lips brushing hers as he spoke. “Don’t you feel it?” He pressed his lips to the side of her neck, lapping with his tongue. “I know you do.”
Alana shuddered. Her entire body was one giant pulse point. She ached for him, but the ache ran deep, blooming in her chest. He shifted his hips again as his lips roamed over her heated skin and she arched against him. Her body made her as transparent as a window and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
The combination of her fear and desire held a frightening level of power. Heat pooled between her thighs and her very being burned for him. Her head swam as he captured her lips again. His fingers tightened on her bottom, squeezing her as his tongue flicked over the rough of her mouth.
Chandler was…God, he was something beyond words.
Lifting her off her feet, he pushed her thighs apart. She gasped as she felt him against her thigh, so hot and hard. She was close to begging him, but he didn’t make her wait long. Oh no, he hooked her legs around his hips, lining her up with his erection.
“Look at me,” he ordered in a gruff voice.
Alana wanted to deny him, but her eyes opened of their own accord. His raw gaze stole her breath. In his stare… No, she couldn’t be seeing what she thought she was. They barely knew each other. His family hated her. He was hired to protect her, but…
She suddenly wanted to cry.
Not breaking contact, he thrust inside her, deep and hard, and he remained there, seated to t
he hilt. There was no escaping him, and in that moment, it was the last thing she ever wanted to do.
“Feel me?” he breathed, nipping at her lower lip.
Alana felt him in every part of her. Then he started to move and her world fell apart. Her body arched into him and she kicked her head back. The piercing moan sent Chandler into a frenzy of action.
Each thrust slid her up the wall and then back down on his length. She couldn’t move in this position. He had complete control. Her arms were still stretched above her head, his body filling hers and then retreating, only to pump back into her deeply. Within seconds, she was matching his tempo. Both of their movements were wild and a bit desperate. He dropped her wrists and she looped her arms around his neck. He cradled the back of her head as he drove into her, incited by the way she dug her fingers into his skin, scouring his flesh.
“Oh fuck,” he said, his mouth pressed against her throat. “Alana, I can’t…”
She tensed around him, every nerve pulsing and flaring as he pounded into her. No doubt her backside would be a bit bruised come tomorrow, but her hoarse cry of release said it all. She wasn’t going to be upset by having to carefully sit down. He quickly followed, fusing their bodies together. She latched onto him, panting and experiencing the aftershocks as his chest rose against her swiftly.
“Alana,” he breathed, voice ragged.
She dropped her head to his warm shoulder, squeezing her eyes against the rush of hot tears. Her arms trembled, but it seemed to have very little to do with what they’d just done, and more with the fact that after today, it would be the last time. It had to be before it was too late.
But an evil little voice whispered that it was already too late.
Chapter Seventeen
Alana was running.
Chandler was a lot of things, but he wasn’t fucking stupid. And he’d meant what he’d said. Kind of. He’d let her have the facade of running, because she wasn’t going to get far.
He knew that the woman felt the same way he did. She may not be able to say the words, but it was everything else she did. Right now, she was like a cornered animal. There were only two options for her: fight it out or run.
She was going to run.
He’d kept her busy the rest of the day Sunday, not giving her much time to put whatever cockamamie plan in place, but he woke when she crept out of his bed at dawn, too early for her just to be getting ready for work.
Too bad he didn’t have another excuse to keep her home.
Home.
Somewhere over the past days, his house had become their home. A smile pulled at his lips in spite of the fact that he knew she was packing up her clothing and personal items in the room next door. Was she going to tell him? Try to sneak the bags past him? Curiosity filled him, making it hard for him to remain in bed and see this through.
If he tried to stop her, it would only make her resist harder, but it wasn’t like he was going to let her buzz around the city without his protection. With anyone else, he wouldn’t let the person out of his sight if he were the one doing the job, but this situation was different. Feelings were involved and all that shit, which was why getting involved with a client was a big no-no, but he’d taken care of that, too. Murray was parked down the street, waiting just in case she called a cab.
Damn Chad and his mouth. He wanted to greet his brother with his fist to the face again, but he knew that even if Chad hadn’t shown up and made an ass out of himself, this was inevitable. Something would’ve triggered her if it hadn’t been her deepening feelings. He wasn’t a psychologist, but it didn’t take one to see that her commitment issues were obviously attached to her mom and he wasn’t sure exactly how he would overcome something like that.
But he would.
Chandler didn’t ever give up.
Her soft footfalls hurried down the hall and he stilled, his eyes drifting toward the closed bedroom door. He needed to be tied down, because lying there was probably the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Just when he thought she was going to leave, he heard her outside his door again. Closing his eyes, he forced his breathing to move slowly. The door cracked open and he felt Alana creeping in, moving quietly to the side of the bed he was “sleeping” on. The lovely scent of vanilla and lilac teased his senses and his cock immediately swelled, more than ready to get a little physical.
Her soft lips brushed his cheek and she whispered, “Good-bye.”
And then she was gone.
Chandler forced himself to stay in the bed until he heard his front door close and the silent beep of the alarm resetting. Throwing off the sheet, he looked over at the nightstand. Beside his cell was a folded piece of paper. His eyes narrowed as he picked it up, already knowing what it was before he scanned the handwritten note.
It even started off with Dear Chandler.
He snorted.
Things have been fun. Blah. Blah. Time for this to end. Blah. Blah. She would find another security firm. Email her the cost of his services? What the fuck? Did she really think he was going to charge her for any of this? She even left her email address.
Her fucking email address.
That was the only thing that pissed him off.
Picking up the phone, he called Murray. He answered on the first ring. “She’s in the rental car. I’m following her now.”
“Perfect. Let me know where she ends up,” Chandler said, crumpling up the Dear John letter. “And I’ll take over from there.”
…
Alana felt like a different person sitting behind her desk at work. Get Well Soon flowers adorned her office. The roses from the creep must’ve been removed, because they were absent. She hadn’t reserved a hotel room yet and there was a list of security firms she knew of in the city she planned on calling once work calmed down.
She had no idea how much Chandler would charge for his services so far, and God knew he would after her bitchtastic exit this morning. A letter? She had actually left him a letter? And she would need to check into another hotel, but maybe none of that was necessary. Out of the mail that one of Chandler’s employees had picked up for her, there hadn’t been any suspicious letters. Maybe this guy had moved on or gotten hit by a car or something?
And it was time that she moved on.
In reality, she wasn’t the same woman who had stared at her schedule last Monday. More so than the physical changes—hair down, wearing a white blouse and linen pants and no suit. Admittedly, she was a hell of a lot more comfortable dressed as she was, but there was an ache in her breast that had started the moment she walked out of Chandler’s house and had only grown over the last couple of hours.
Had she done the right thing by leaving Chandler this morning? It had to be. What he said in the shower the day before had to be the lust talking and nothing more. Besides, leaving him now was like ripping a Band-Aid off a wound—rather it be quick and a bit painful than drawn-out and destructive.
No matter what, she wouldn’t end up like her mom.
But as she attended the weekly meeting with the publicists, chatted with Ruby, and fielded a hundred comments about being shot and all that drama, she felt like she was… She was faking it all. It was the best way she could describe how she felt. As if she were doing nothing but lying to herself and others, telling them and herself that she was okay. That everything was fine. But it wasn’t. Not really. Her skin was stretched too tight, as if she were wearing jeans that no longer fit after gorging on a meal.
Sipping her lukewarm coffee, she pushed thoughts of Chandler and her own question out of her mind and concentrated on work. For a while, it worked like it always had. She turned off her cell phone, because she really didn’t think she could deal with it if Chandler contacted her, and threw herself into the phone calls with reporters, checked in on the senator, and scheduled an “impromptu” photo shoot of him reading to kids at the local Boys and Girls club. She worked through lunch and answered emails well into the late afternoon.
It was
only when the office had quieted around her, blinds had been drawn, and Ruby had left for the day, that she powered off her computer. As she started to stand, she glanced over at the window. With the fading sun pushing through the thin slats in the blinds, she watched the tiny specks of dust floating in the streams of light. That was how she felt, simply floating.
Pressure clamped down on her chest and she quickly shook her head. She had been doing so well. Now wasn’t the time to break down.
She placed her purse on the desk when the door to her office opened. Turning, she expected to see a lingering coworker come through the door, but what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Steven?”
…
Chandler was hanging around outside Alana’s firm, obsessively watching. It was well beyond the time that she should’ve left work, but she hadn’t stepped foot outside. There was a back entrance to the office building, but it was butted up against an alley, and the parking garage exited out onto the street. And her rental car was still in the garage. He had checked twice now.
Impatient, he pushed off the wall and slipped into the bottom floor of the garage. The fact that there wasn’t any security monitoring the comings and goings after five p.m. grated on his nerves.
He beat feet to the third floor, spying the tan sedan by itself. She was still here.
Chandler stopped in the middle of the parking garage, torn between wanting to bum-rush her office and waiting for her out here. He knew that she wasn’t going to be happy to see him, but both of them were going to have to put their emotions aside. There was no way he was going to allow some other crackpot security firm to step in and protect her.
He waited another good ten minutes before his patience had reached its limit and he started toward the entrance door. One way or another, he was going in there, getting his woman, and bringing her home, where she was safe.
…