Playing It Safe (8 page)

“
Um
is not an answer. Whatever comes in your head first is the only answer I want to hear come out of your mouth.”

His eyes dart to my mouth for a moment before bringing his gaze back to mine. The look in them is somewhere along the lines of amused and sinful. It’s a dangerous blend, especially for me since I do love me a good challenge. I may regret this later, but what the hell, right?

“Yes.”

“Good answer.”

Alex walks away to lock his door, keeping me inside before I can change my mind. If it wasn’t for the gratified expression on his face, I might be running for the hills. But obviously I’m thinking with my nether regions, and they are begging to come out and play. And if I listen closely, I can hear them too. It sounds like those freaky-looking British twins in
The Shining
: “Come and play with us, Alex … forever and ever and ever.”

Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that when my vagina starts speaking to me in creepy voices, that can only be a sure sign that things have taken a turn for the worse.

R
ight off the bat, I’ve learned a couple of things about Alex after being sucked into staying for dinner with him. One, he doesn’t cook. And two, he knows how to make me feel like the center of attention but not at all in a disturbing kind of way.

Once I agreed to stay, it took us a few minutes to decide what to order for dinner. He said he knew a really good Chinese place that would deliver, and I agreed because everybody knows good Chinese food is hard to come by. He asked if I wanted to look over the menu, but again, everybody knows all Chinese restaurants have the same exact menu, so why bother?

I rattled off my order—steamed chicken and broccoli with garlic sauce on the side—without a moment’s hesitation. He chuckled as he picked up his phone to call it in, and I thought it was odd that he found my order funny. That is until he ordered the same exact thing for himself. Apparently, we are Chinese food soul mates. Who would have seen that one coming?

While we wait for the food to arrive, which the Chinese place said would take about fifteen to twenty minutes, as is the standard answer for every single delivery from any Chinese place no matter where the hell you live, I feel more at ease and ask if he’ll give me a tour of his house. Part of me is still dying of curiosity from the moment I got here earlier today to see the rest of it, because believe it or not, your home says a lot about you as a person. No, it’s true, I saw that shit on
Oprah
. That guy, Nate something or other, was doing a room makeover in some lucky viewer’s house, and he said the exact same thing. And you all know that if it was on
Oprah
, it’s like the closest thing to gospel.

So off I go, following Alex as he starts showing me the rest of his house, ready to see what it says about him. From what I’ve already seen in the living room and kitchen area alone, it’s telling me that he has great taste. Going down the hallway that had piqued my interest earlier, there are several framed photographs. They look to be of his family, but mostly of Vanessa and Josie. Before reaching the first door, there are a few photographs clumped together of Alex with a bunch of guys. Let me rephrase that so you can appreciate it more: photographs of Alex with a bunch of super-hot guys. One photo is of them on the beach, another is in Las Vegas, another snowboarding, and another fishing on a boat.

I’m staring way too intently at these pictures, first and foremost because there are a couple that have Alex with no shirt on. I can’t even elaborate on how perfect he looks with the top half of him uncovered; you’re just going to have to trust me on this one—it’s amazing. But man oh man, his buddies aren’t exactly chopped liver either.

“These must be your friends,” I say, speaking up after finding my voice.

Alex smiles as he comes back to where I’m standing in his hallway staring away at the set of pictures. “We used to be fraternity brothers and have stayed relatively close over the years. Every year we try to get together for a guys’ weekend.”

“That’s why all the pictures are from different places.”

“Yes. Like this one,” he says, pointing to the snowboarding photograph. “This was a couple of years ago in Aspen.”

“You know how to snowboard?”

“You don’t?” he asks incredulously.

I turn to face him. “Um, no. I’m a Miami girl through and through. Snow and me, we don’t mix. Anything less than sixty degrees and I’d be frozen solid.”

“You should at least try it once—you never know what you might be missing.” He puts his hands in his pockets as I face the wall again to inspect the photographs a little better.

“So where are you guys going next?”

“We haven’t decided yet. What happens is we each pick a spot, and then one of us is appointed the research guy. After all the research is done on each location, we take a vote. The one with the most votes is where we end up going.”

“How very democratic of all of you,” I note. “If it was me and a bunch of my girlfriends, we’d somehow end up in a tiff because so-and-so can’t be in the sun for too long, and that one can’t stand walking for long distances. Basically, I’d end up telling them to fuck off, and I’d pack up my shit so I could go off to an island all by myself.”

“Which island?” he asks, while we make our way down the hallway toward the first door.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. Somewhere that would not require me to wear much clothing and was peaceful and quiet all day and night. No cell phones, no TV … well, maybe some sort of TV, but for the most part a complete disconnect from everybody for a whole week.”

“I know just the place,” he says. “I may have to show you one day.”

“That would defeat the purpose of peace and quiet, wouldn’t it?”

He chuckles as he opens the first door, and I get a view of his office. It has a large mahogany desk situated in the center of the room with a dark brown leather chair. The desk faces a wall that has a pretty good-sized flat-screen TV and behind it a credenza in matching mahogany. His laptop is currently open on his desk, and there are a couple of papers strewn about, nothing messy or cluttered at all in here.

Feeling satisfied with what I’ve seen in this room, I brush past him on my way to the door. “Next room, please.”

“I take it this room does nothing for you?” he asks.

It totally does
things
to me. All sorts of interesting things. For instance, I could tell him about the countless times I’ve fantasized about going to his office and locking the door so I could do all sorts of wicked things to him. But cooler heads prevail, and I shrug my shoulders and tell him no instead.

We walk to the next door, which is across the hall at an angle. He opens it to reveal a guest bathroom. Nothing much to report in here. I mean, it’s a crapper with really nice fixtures that you can tell have been recently installed. Moving on, he leads me to the second-to-last door, which he opens to reveal his personal gym.

“Holy crap! You must really be into working out.”

“You could say that,” he laughs. “I try to get in two hours a day.”

He has everything in here: an elliptical machine, a treadmill, a rowing machine, a weight machine, and free weights.

“I think I need to cancel my membership at the gym and start coming here instead,” I joke.

“I don’t think you’d be able to keep up with me,” he says and comes up behind me as I’m eyeing some of the equipment.

I know if I turn around I’ll be scarily close to him. Usually, I wouldn’t be timid with my comebacks either, but I feel like if I do right now, my clothes may be off of me faster than I can say, “Fuck Bally’s.” Instead, I shimmy out from between his large frame and the weight machine and make my way into the hallway again. He strides toward me with a pleased look on his face and walks past me to stand before the very last stop on our tour.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Bedroom.

Ding, ding! We have a winner!

Okay, let’s freeze right here and assess the situation before he opens the door to where the magic happens. And let’s be honest, the magic would undoubtedly happen. How do I know this? Well, besides the fact that we’ve been dancing around each other for months, and each time it gets precariously closer to
something
… I want him, plain and simple. I almost hope it’s a pigsty on the other side of the door and it will turn me off rather than make me want to show him how bendy I can be.

Alex swings the door open, and what do my wandering eyes feast upon? Shit, I don’t even know where to start. From the four-poster king-sized bed to the contemporary dark oak furniture that consists of an armoire, a dresser, and two nightstands—it’s stunning. Directly across from me is a wall of French doors that lead to a small deck that overlooks the pool, and just off to the side is a door that leads to a master bathroom.
This
bathroom I’m definitely interested in inspecting, so I mosey on over to take a peek with Alex right on my heels. Sweet Lord above, a multi-head glass shower with a built-in stool that could easily fit three to four people
and
a separate Jacuzzi tub.

“Do you like it?”

I walk past him and back toward the bed and grab on to one of the posts to test out its durability because you never know. “I do. I like it a lot. It suits you.”

He comes up to lean against the other post and grins. “How so?”

“I don’t know exactly, it just does.” Bullshit, I totally do, but I’m not about to go into it with him. Can you imagine if I were to say,
“It’s sleek, gorgeous, and perfect like you?”
Yeah, like that wouldn’t lead to any awkwardness between us.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he says.

“Why?”

“I don’t know why exactly, it just does,” he teases.

We fall silent, and after a moment, he pushes off the post and closes the space between us. He’s so close that I can feel the heat coming off of his body in waves. I look up into his sky-blue eyes, which are dancing with mischief, and realize that all I need to do is stand on my tippy toes and I’d be able to reach his lips. It takes every bit of self-control to not jump at that impulse running through me and do exactly that. Instead, I stay put. Trapped by my own cowardice and nerves and, honestly, curiosity at what’s going to happen next.

“You didn’t move away this time.”

“Do I win a prize?” I throw back at him. Seriously, this back-and-forth turns me on like nobody’s business.

“It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on whether I think it’s the right time to give you your prize,” he says.

“What kind of prize is it, Alex?”

He searches my face before settling on my mouth, staring at it for a second or two, then bringing his heated gaze back to my eyes. “I think you’ll like this prize, Julia. As a matter of fact, I’d be willing to bet my life on it.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” I say.

It’s then that he shocks the shit out of me by taking one hand and snaking it around my waist slowly. He pulls me even closer so that my body is flush against his, and I have no choice but to steady myself by putting my hands on his biceps. When I look up at him, his eyes are fixed on mine. He brings his other hand to caress my cheek before smoothly moving it back to the nape of my neck to keep me in place—not that I have any intention of going anywhere. And he knows it, as evidenced by the devilish smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I lick my lips in anticipation just as he dips his head, but he bypasses them altogether and heads for my ear.

“Why don’t we cut the bullshit, shall we?” he says in a low voice that causes my nipples to perk up and say hello.

I don’t say yes, or nod, or even move one goddamn inch; I may in fact be holding my breath while my heart is beating erratically in my chest.

“We’ve been playing this game for a very long time. And I’m all for playing games, Julia, but sooner or later, one of us is going to win.”

I take a gulp of oxygen and pivot my head an inch so that my lips barely brush against his cheek. “Alex?”

“Hmmm?” he responds and starts to slowly trace my jawline with his lips. God, that feels good. His lips are soft and sure as they roam down to my neck, and I arch my back in his arm to give him better access.

“You should know that I’m kind of a sore loser,” I whisper.

His light chuckle resonates against my neck when he moves his mouth to place the softest of kisses there. “That’s the best part. Even if you lose, you win.”

He continues his slow torture of kissing and nipping up my neck until reaching my chin, where he stops to hover over my lips without touching them. Holy mother of God, I might have reached an orgasm, and he’s not even technically kissing me yet.

“Do you give up?” he asks in a low voice.

“Never,” I say back to him and loop my arms around his neck.

“Have it your way then.”

I feel the faintest trace of his smile against my lips when he finally starts to kiss me, slowly and with smooth deliberation. His tongue gradually seeks entrance, and I open for him with ease. He deepens the kiss by lightly tugging on the back of my hair so that he can angle his mouth over mine completely. It’s as if he can’t get enough of me, the way he’s taking his time exploring my lips, caressing my tongue with his and savoring every second.

This is what it feels like to be kissed properly and thoroughly. And the only coherent thought that races through my mind is that I’ve kissed a lot of frogs in my lifetime, but
this—
nothing has ever been quite like this.

Ding-dong! Ding-dong!

You have got to be shitting me. The freaking Chinese delivery guy has to start ringing the doorbell just as we’re finding our groove. Really?!

Alex reluctantly breaks off the kiss but doesn’t budge to answer the door. It rings again, and he unleashes a gratified expression, dimples and all, while I’m struggling to make sense of what I just let happen.

“I win, and don’t you dare think of running on me,” he warns.

“Um …”

“I like you all tongue-tied
—
should make for an interesting evening,” he says.

He lets me go then and turns on his heel to answer the door. I’m left standing there trying to rationalize how I got myself into this predicament. I steady myself on the bedpost and look in the direction of where he disappeared to, my brain going in every direction and my body still humming from the few moments of nirvana that it got to experience.

Oh, shut up! I already know, and you’re right, I should have known better than to take the tour that would lead to his bedroom. Don’t you think I know that I was about five minutes away from showing him the granny panties? Trust me, I do, I
soooo
do.

“Julia?” Alex calls out to me from the living room.

“I’ll be right there.”

Fuck shit, fuck shit, fuckity fuck shit!

Okay. I’m just going to go back out there and play it off as a moment of weakness, have dinner with him, and then I’ll get the hell out of here.

I start toward the bedroom door, giving myself a quick pep talk before reaching the hallway:
Julia, you
CAN
do this. You will
NOT
sleep with him.