Holy shit. And here he’d thought his three-year stretch was mind-boggling. No wonder she hadn’t questioned his admission during last night’s dance.
He’d been her first kiss. The concept repeated itself in Alex’s brain several times, and still, he struggled to wrap his head around the idea.
Perhaps he could have deduced some of her situation if he’d paid attention to her words the previous night—“How could kissing be like that?” But he’d been rather overwhelmed at the time. Hell, she’d made him feel as if that had been his first kiss too. This probably explained...
“That experiment with the cop?”
She huffed and stood from the bed. “Go ahead and feed your ego.” Her wild gesturing almost smacked him. “I wanted to see if my reaction was to the kissing or to—” She stopped and fisted her hands.
“Me.” His statement earned him a glare.
“All right, fine. Yes, you. Happy now?” Before he could answer that, yes, he was happy—thrilled in fact—she continued her rant. “I might be naïve about human logistics, but I’ve seen enough Cosmo covers to recognize I don’t meet your expectations. And you know what I say to that? Too bad. I’m normal for me.”
He rose and swept her into his arms. “And I like you just the way you are.”
“You—? You do?”
“Why is that such a surprise? I’m an arrogant bastard, remember? I love the idea that I was your first kiss, and if I get my way, I’ll be your first everything.” He squeezed her tight. “You’re mine alone to treasure. Mine, mine, mine.”
Her musical laugh rewarded his possessiveness. Once it faded, however, her expression tightened. “Are you sure? I mean, compared to the Cosmo headlines and my neighbors here—”
“Your neighbors? In this place, they’re probably all hookers and drug addicts. They’re less normal than you are.” He kissed her forehead. “Stop comparing yourself to anything in Cosmo or to anyone else. You’re unique and that’s why...”
He refused to finish that statement. The line restraining his impulsiveness had to be drawn somewhere. “And that’s why I like you.”
The blue glow of her eyes flared. A blink later, the ceiling filled his view.
She’d shoved him back onto the bed faster than he could see, much less react. Luckily, he’d landed lengthways on the twin-size mattress, or else he’d have banged into the wall. She straddled his hips and pinned his wrists.
Her breath left a heated trail up his chest. “So I shouldn’t restrain myself if I want to do something dragon-like?”
With the air knocked out of his lungs, his voice came out as a strangled whisper. “No...”
A hiss—an honest-to-God hiss—tickled his earlobe and sharpened points dug into the backs of his hands where she held them.
Brief questions, wondering if he should be freaked out or concerned for his safety, floated through his head and then abandoned him just as quickly. The lone coherent thought in his mind was that she was slinking across his body, exactly as he’d fantasized. If only she was wearing fewer clothes.
Her breasts pressed against him, but her damned shirt was in the way. “Tell me, Alex. Show me what to do. I want this.” She rocked her hips on his.
Fuck. God, did he want her.
But not like this.
Okay, one part of him would take her any way it could, but her virginity changed everything. Triggered his protective nature even more. He couldn’t treat this like a hot-and-heavy hookup.
Every male instinct he had protested, but he strained out of her hold. “If I get to be your first, you’re going to have that experience someplace nicer than here.”
“What’s wrong with my apartment?” Her mouth drew down. “I worked hard to afford it.”
That depressing thought dampened his insistent horniness. He caught his frown before it darkened his features.
“Trust me. I’ll make it worth it.” He bounced against the mattress. “Think of what we can do with the room on a king-size bed.”
Her giggle chased his words, and he lifted both of them upright on the floor. Once she settled her feet under her, he stroked the nape of her neck and met her gaze.
The thought of keeping her reinforced his earlier impulsive decision. He did want her to stay with him.
“Come on, beautiful, let me show you to your new home. The one you deserve.”
Right as she melted in his arms, his cell phone rang again. Damn it.
He glanced at the screen. “Hang on, it’s James.”
She gave him a mischievous grin and swirled her tongue on his neck, right when he switched on the phone. Oh, hell.
“Yeah?” The word was almost a groan into the microphone, and he cleared his throat. “What’s up?”
“The paps are here.”
“Shit!” Paparazzi? That was not what he needed. He pressed a finger to Elaina’s questioning lips. “How bad is it?”
Shuffling sounds emerged from the phone’s speaker, as though James was checking the area. “I see two right now. Colin from the Investigator and some sleazeball from that TotalAccess website. But if they’re here, others might be on their way.”
Double shit. “Are they watching the car or the building?”
“Hard to say. They’re both hanging back by half a block. But I know their cars as well as they know yours.”
Think, damn it. If he emerged from the building with Elaina now, they’d be all over the front pages of those tabloid rags, and he’d never get a chance to clean up his mess.
“Hang on.” He pressed mute on the cell. “Is there anyone in the building who’s my height and build?” He cut off Elaina’s questions. “Answer me.”
“Um, I guess. The guy across the hall is pretty tall.”
Alex went into the hallway and pounded on the opposite door. The muffled “go away” didn’t deter him. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you open this door and let me talk to—”
The door swung wide. The man standing in the doorway wasn’t as broad of shoulder as Alex was, but he would do. Alex passed the promised bill to the guy.
“I’ll give you another hundred if you put on a baseball cap and go to the car waiting out front. The driver will give you a third one if you get in and let him drive you someplace.” Alex took in the man’s narrow frame. “A breakfast place. And he’ll pay for that too.”
The guy inspected the hundred in his grasp and apparently decided Alex was for real. He slid on a cap and extended his hand. The desperation he must have to go willingly into a stranger’s car wasn’t lost on Alex.
After sending the guy on his way, Alex returned to Elaina’s apartment and un-muted his phone to fill in James. “I’m sending down a decoy. Get him in the car and drive off. See if you can lure them away.”
“What about you? Should I swing back around to pick you up?”
“We’ll see. Others might show up in the meantime. The decoy’s expecting a hundred dollars and a hot breakfast somewhere. Give me a call once you’re finished with him and in the clear. Then we’ll figure out the rest.”
“You got it, boss.”
Alex switched off the phone and met Elaina’s narrowed gaze. Shit. This would not go well.
“James said a couple of reporters are down the street. They must have heard that cop mention where I was on the police scanners. James is going to try to lead them away with the decoy.”
“Reporters? You mean paparazzi are right outside my apartment?” Her pitch rose so high on the last word she nearly squeaked.
There was nothing he could deny, so he nodded.
She became a flurry of activity, lunging and closing her laptop. “They have my real name.” She grabbed a laptop bag from a kitchen cabinet and stuffed the computer and cables inside. “They have my picture.” Her fingers refastened her bra clasp so quickly he hardly scored a peek. “They have my address.” She stormed past him to her bathroom. “I am so dead.”
He followed her and stood in the doorway. “Relax, we’ll figure out something.”
She crouched beside a steel cabinet in a closet at the far end and glared up at him. “There is no ‘we,’ Alex.”
At her scathing tone, he staggered against the doorframe. She ignored his reaction and ran through the most complicated set of switches, hidden cubbyholes, and combination locks he’d ever seen.
The whole time, she muttered to herself, “Sure, the article spelled my name wrong, but he’s smart enough to work that out. And the untouched hair? That’ll be the sword in the heart. I couldn’t have given him better directions if I tried.”
“Who’s he?”
“I knew it was only a matter of time.” A small lockbox sat inside the cabinet’s secret compartment, and she cradled the case to her chest. “No. No, it’ll be okay.”
Alex trailed her whirlwind back into the kitchen. “What are you scared of?”
She ignored him and unsuccessfully tried to shove the box into the bag with her laptop.
“Damn it, talk to me.” He elbowed her out of the way and stuffed the safe into the bag for her. “If I knew the problem, I could work on a solution.”
While he zipped the case closed, she crossed her arms. “I think I’ve had enough of your help. You’re the reason I’m in this mess.”
The truth hurt. Badly.
She held out her hand for her bag. He didn’t pass it over right away, and she jiggled her arm, demanding the tote.
His cell phone chose that minute to ring again. He noted the caller. “Yes, James?”
“Figured you’d want an update. At least one of them followed, but I think one stayed behind.”
“Thanks for trying. Give me a call after—”
Elaina yanked the strap from his grasp. “Bye, I’m...” She shook her head and marched toward her apartment door.
He hung up with James and snagged her elbow. “Don’t. One reporter is still out there.”
She gave him a withering roll of her eyes. “This building is infested with drug pushers. Don’t you think they have a back way out for when the cops come by?”
“I’m coming with you.” He reclaimed his shirt and cap from the floor.
“If you want to follow me to learn the way out, suit yourself. But you aren’t doing anything with me.” Matching her words, she strode down the hall while he was still pulling on his shirt.
He closed the door behind him. “Don’t you want to lock this?”
Her hand spun in a careless wave. “Whatever.”
What about all those clothes she’d been so worried about? “Toss me your keys.”
A jangling pile of metal just missed his head. She’d thrown her key ring at him. Yeah, definitely pissed.
It took a moment to figure out which key went to her door. He caught up to her heading down the stairs and held out the key ring. “Here.”
“Don’t need ’em.”
What the hell? He slipped the keys into his pocket. She shoved open the stairwell’s door to the fourth floor hallway and stormed toward the rear of the building.
Up ahead, a graffiti-decorated board covered the busted-out window at the end of the dark hall. Like a pendulum, the board swung to the side, and she let herself through the opening. The fire escape for the back of the building was outside.
Somebody had boarded over the route to the fire escape? Good lord, how many code violations did this dump have?
He avoided the broken glass edging the window frame and followed her onto the grating. She lifted the strap of her laptop bag over her head so it lay diagonal across her body, freeing her arms. But instead of descending the ladder, she climbed onto the railing four stories above the pavement below.
“No!” He dove to grab her.
His hand closed on empty air.
She vaulted to the mostly flat roof of the two-story building across the alley and landed safely, with nary a hair on her now-brunette head out of place.
“Jesus Christ. Are you trying to kill yourself?”
A touch of a grin appeared on her features. “Oh come on, the druggies do it all the time.”
Yeah, while they hallucinated that they could fly.
She took off across the roof. “Feel free to stop following me anytime.”
It finally dawned on him. She was trying to lose him. She was running away from more than the paparazzi. Someone had her scared, and she was simply running away. She wasn’t ever returning to her apartment. If he didn’t keep up with her, he’d lose her forever.
His mouth went dry at the thought, and his racing heartbeat yelled at him to catch her before she got away.
Shit. His options were rather limited. If he took the fire escape ladder to the narrow alley below, a ten-foot-tall barbed-wire fence would stand between him and Elaina. It was jump or say goodbye to the back of her head.
Every cell of his being joined his pounding heart in shouting that he couldn’t let her escape. Losing her might, in fact, kill him. Hopefully, trying to keep her wouldn’t do the same.
He climbed onto the railing and tried not to look down. Sure, he was in good shape, but Harvard lacked a men’s gymnastics team. Like a good little elitist rich boy, he’d taken up sailing and fencing. And the elegance of those sports was quite different from the reality of balancing thirty-some feet over a blacktop littered with broken bottles and used syringes. Gossip headlines would bleed onto the front page if he died here, at the foot of Drugs and Hookers “R” Us.
So don’t die. Simple enough.
He took a deep breath and crouched for more thrust.
And leaped.