Expose Me

And yet, even now, especially now, she felt her body ache and pulse for him. No matter how hard or ruthless Alex Diaz was, she still wanted him. Maybe because he was so hard and ruthless. Maybe because the thought of him wanting her, needing her, made her blood surge and her heart sing. She wanted this man to bend for her. To break.

No matter how many petty shots Alex called now, that would really show who was in control.

“We’re here,” Alex said and let his hand drop from the back of the seat onto her shoulder, his palm warm through her coat and cashmere dress, his fingers almost brushing her breast.

His golden-brown gaze locked with hers and she felt as if she were trapped in a vise. Barely able to breathe. She slipped from the limo and away from his hand, wondering how on earth she was going to get through this evening.

* * *

Alex watched Chelsea, her back straight, her hips swaying slightly as she preceded him into the restaurant. Every exchange they’d had was loaded with innuendo, heavy with intent. But he had her. He could tell he had her; she was curious as well as ambitious and hungry. She would do what he said, and sex would be a sweet way to seal the deal. To celebrate it. He’d seen the desire in her eyes, the hunger, even though she would never admit it.

He’d make her admit it. He’d bring her to her knees, sobbing out his name, begging for his touch. The thought made him smile.

It also made him hard.

Shifting to ease his discomfort, he followed Chelsea into the restaurant.

“So tell me about yourself,” he said once they were seated, menus open before them and linen napkins placed in their laps. “I don’t know anything about you except the bullet points of your résumé.”

Her eyes narrowed like a cat’s, and he could see her debating the merit of a snappy comeback. Finally she shrugged and took a sip of water. “There’s not much more to know beyond that. I’ve pretty much lived for my career.”

“As have I, but that doesn’t mean you could compress my personality into a single sheet of paper. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

She looked surprised, as if no one had ever asked her such a thing before. “Hobbies?” she said, leaning back in her seat. “I work out. A lot.”

“I could have guessed that.”

“Oh?”

“You’re a control freak.”

She cocked her head. “Takes one to know one.”

“Absolutely.”

He felt the clash of their wills as if a metallic clang had reverberated through the room. It was going to be so good to take her to bed, he thought. And then leave her there.

“I foresee a problem,” she said, glancing down at her menu so her long, chocolate-coloured lashes feathered her cheeks.

Alex leaned back in his seat. “Which is?”

“We can’t both be in control.”

“Definitely not.” He felt heat unfurl in his belly as he saw her eyes flare. Knew what they were both thinking of. Knew then, with an absolutely solid certainty, how this evening was going to end.

The air between them seemed to snap and crackle with electric tension. Alex could almost hear the sizzle.

Time to bring it down a notch. He wanted to make it through dinner, at least. “In any case, I don’t believe you. Everyone’s got a hobby.”

“All right then, what’s yours?”

“Scuba diving.”

“That’s not something you can do everyday.”

“No. Holidays only.”

“So what do you do to relax on a daily basis?”

“Besides the obvious?”

Her mouth curved. “I’m not talking about basic needs.”

“I also swim,” he said, and her mouth curved wider, drawing Alex’s attention to it. It was delicious, full and lush. He wanted to feel it against his own.

“Doesn’t that count as working out?”

“So does fulfilling my, ah, basic needs.”

She laughed softly, the sound no more than a breath. “So you must be very fit.”

“You’ll have to judge for yourself.”

“Is that a promise?”

“More just a statement of fact.”

Her smile widened, revealing a dimple in one cheek. “Does it relax you?” she asked and for a second he thought she was talking about sex. Then he remembered what they’d been at least pretending to talk about. Swimming.

“I’ve learned to let it relax me.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“I didn’t learn to swim until I was in high school.” Alex paused; suddenly he could almost smell the chlorine and sweat of Walkerton Prep’s pool. Could feel the hard shove on his back.

“Alex.” He glanced up, blinking, and saw Chelsea giving him a teasing smile. “Whatever you’re thinking about, it feels like a bit of a buzz kill.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Maybe, but it motivated me to learn how to swim.” She raised her eyebrows, waiting, and he continued. “I got a scholarship to Walkerton Prep. You know it?”

“The boarding school in Connecticut? Who doesn’t? It seems like everyone with money is trying to get their kid in there.”

“Exactly. I fulfilled their diversity quotient, I guess. Half-Dominican kid from the Bronx.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said, and her voice had turned thoughtful, her head tilted to one side as she gazed at him.

“Which part? Dominican or the Bronx?”

Her mouth curved again in a small smile; she really did have the most amazing lips. “Both, I guess. But you were telling me how you learned to swim.”