Page 29

Next thing I know, the paintbrush in my hand is on the floor, leaving a streak in the mural, and I’m being hoisted up by my waist. “You little brat,” he says, pinching my sides. My body jerks in reaction, and I let out a howling laugh.

“I will kick you, Alexander!”

“I’d like to see you try.” He carries me out to the pool, jumping in with me in his arms. As we come up, he doesn’t take his hands off, tickling and pinching my sides and the tops of my knees. I’m shrieking, laughing, thrashing—and growing more and more heated with every touch.

As much as I’m fighting him, I’m also relishing the touch of his skin, the muscles in his arms, the warmth of his chest.

When he stops tickling me, his eyes are on my mouth, and when I finally take in a breath, all I can smell is him. My back is against the side of the pool, his hard body against me.

I’m about to get exactly what I want.

My lips part, ready for him to kiss me. I notice the crack in his armor, like he might actually do it. He even leans in and rubs his thumb gently up my rib cage.

I suck in a breath, tilting my hips toward him and letting my knees fall apart to bring him closer.

But then, it’s as if ice-cold water douses us both. He climbs out of the pool in haste. Standing above me, he adjusts himself in his pants, turning his back to me and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” I snap, climbing out.

“I’m leaving,” he says, running his fingers through his hair.

“What?” My heart sinks. One minute, he’s about to cross a line, and now he can’t get away from me fast enough. He’s all mixed signals, and I’m getting the feeling that he’s holding back or even punishing himself for letting down his guard with me. It doesn’t make any sense.

Moments go by when he doesn’t return, leaving me to deflate on the pool deck, the heat he aroused in me still stirring under my flesh.

Getting to my feet, I walk over to my stuff and throw the paintbrushes in the sink. Irritation boils beneath the surface, replacing the excitement I just felt. I turn the water on to rinse the brushes but decide to just leave them. He hates it when I do that, but I don’t have the patience to clean them right now. Fuck that. All I care about is getting out of there as soon as possible.

I’m huffing angrily as I throw my supplies in the sink and let out a shrieking gasp when his arms are suddenly around me, his body hard against mine. He pins me against the counter so hard it almost hurts.

My heart hammers in my chest. What is he doing?

“Stop,” I gasp.

“I would never hurt you, Sunny.” His lips are against my ear, and I feel the tip of his tongue along the edge of my lobe.

I melt in his arms. He is the only thing holding me upright.

“Which is why I have to go,” he mumbles against my back, and my heart sinks to the floor.

“Don’t go,” I beg.

“I have to. I’m sorry, Sunny.”

His hands release my body, and I nearly fall to the floor. “You’re drunk, but I can stay here with you. We’ll watch a movie or something.”

A laugh escapes his mouth, and it makes me feel about two inches tall. “You’re so fucking sweet, rain cloud. I’m leaving because I need to fuck someone, and if I stay here with you…”

His drunk eyes find my face, and it sours my stomach to see him this way. This is not him. The light behind his eyes is gone.

“I’ll go home,” I say, struggling to get the words out.

Lifting his fingers, he grazes my cheek, pushing my hair back. “You don’t think I’d crawl into that bed of yours?”

Suddenly, all his mixed signals make sense. Alex doesn’t want to hurt me, and to him, that means keeping as much distance between our bodies as possible. Denying himself what he wants. Denying me.

A fire burns like an inferno between us as we stare at each other. His words replay over and over in my mind, the image of him sneaking into my room, crawling into my bed, singes my insides with arousal.

His hands pull away from my body, leaving me standing there cold and alone.