Far too soon, the elevator dings and I step back. Reluctantly. Alex stares up at me, her expression unreadable. “I thought you said you weren’t trying to sleep with me,” she says softly as the doors open.
I lean down and whisper in her ear. “I just needed to taste you. I promise, if I was really trying to sleep with you, you’d know.”
Alex shivers and looks up at me, eyes shining. I take her hand again and tug her off the elevator. The hostess sees us coming and retrieves our coats, handing them to me. I hold Alex’s out for her to put it on. She rolls her eyes but slips her arms inside.
“You really don’t like people doing stuff for you, do you?” I ask as we step out into the cool night air.
She shakes her head. “If you grew up with my parents, you’d understand.”
“Try me,” I challenge her as I hail a cab. It pulls over, and she opens her own door, sliding across the back seat. I sit next to her and give the driver the address.
“Anything that could possibly be hired out, was. I swear to God, it’s a miracle either of them can tie their own shoes. And then there was the etiquette. Cross your ankles, not your knees. Be a lady. Tattoos are for degenerates. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Always let a man push in your chair for you, even though it’s incredibly awkward. Never make the first move. Be polite, even if you’re uncomfortable. And God forbid I wanted to open my own doors.”
“Fair enough, that sounds awful.”
“You’re not going to try and defend them? Remind me that they just wanted what’s best for me?”
“Hell no,” I laugh. “For the record, I know you can get your own chair. But if I hold your coat for you, it’s not because I think you need my help. I’ll just take any excuse I can to get closer to you.” I twist a lock of her hair around my finger and lean in. “If you’re uncomfortable, I like knowing you’ll tell me, or anyone else, to fuck right off. And when it comes to your legs—”
I trace the delicate tattoo on the front of her thigh. Her dress has a slit right over her ink, teasing an intricate vine of flowers. I can’t help wondering how high they go… “Cross them however you want. Or not at all… I won’t complain.” She shivers under my touch, goosebumps rising on her soft skin as she stares back at me.
We pass a crowd standing on a side street outside an old brick building. “Oh! Stop the cab!” I call out to the driver. He slams on the brakes.
“What are you doing?” Alex asks as I pull a twenty out of my wallet and hand it to the driver.
“Come on,” I grin at her. “I promise, this is just a detour.” I throw open my door and hop out.
“You’re insane,” she laughs, following me out of the cab. “What are they waiting for?”
“I’m not positive, but I have an idea…”
11
Alex
Branson and I start toward the crowd of people milling around while the cab pulls away. It’s already a block down the road when I realize with a start that I left my purse in the back seat. I take off running down the cobblestone street while Branson calls after me.
“Alex! What are you doing?”
“My purse!” I call over my shoulder. I hear his heavy footsteps as he runs after me.
“Alex, wait!” It’s at that exact moment that my entire life goes to hell in a handbasket. My heel jams into a crack in the cobblestones, and I feel it snap. I hop along on one good heel, trying to balance on the remains of my other broken shoe. I topple sideways towards an aged brick wall, but thick arms wrap around my waist, catching me from behind, saving me from planting my face in the rough stonework.
“Jesus. I’ve never seen a woman run that fast in heels,” Branson laughs, steadying me as I wobble against him.
“My purse is in there,” I moan, watching the cab disappear around the corner. “My phone, my wallet, everything.”
“It’s ok,” he says, smoothing a stray lock of hair out of my face. “We’ll call them and pick it up.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks up the cab company before putting his phone to his ear. He’s still holding me in the circle of his arms, and I don’t point out that I’m totally capable of standing on my own. I could lie and say I’m not pulling away because it’s cold, and he’s warm. But honestly, he just feels good.
He’s so big and thick that he makes me feel almost dainty. Men have always avoided touching my stomach, like maybe it’s secretly toned as long as they pretend like my entire midsection doesn’t exist.
Not Branson. His arm curls around my ribs, his broad palm gripping my opposite hip. His fingers don’t hover. They stroke the material of my dress, sending a thrill running through me. Instead of pulling away, I lean back against his chest, giving in for just a minute.
“Hi, my date accidentally left her purse in a cab. License plate 73BCX. Can you ask him to swing back?... Uh-huh. Yeah, I get it, man. Okay, thanks.”
I crane my neck back to look up at Branson. “He already picked up another customer and it’ll be a while. They offered to hold it at the depot, and we can pick it up tomorrow.”
“Okay, but I have to check in with Willow, or she’s going to assume that Harkness kidnapped and murdered me if she can’t reach me until tomorrow.”