Page 51 of The Perfect Mistake

“No,” he says. “So tell me, Isabel. How do I relax?”

My body feels strung taut. He’s so close, the top two buttons undone on his white shirt, and there’s a faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. I lean in closer without meaning to. He smells like rain and cologne and a slight trace of alcohol. Something else, too. A hint of cigar smoke.

His hand brushes my shoulder again.

I kiss him. It’s a quick brush of my lips against his, with my heart pounding in my ears. The world feels like it’s crashing down around me.

He sits still as a statue.

I draw back and feel the apology hovering on the tip of my tongue. Shit.

But Alec looks at me with eyes that burn the sorry right out of me. He closes the distance between us, kissing me with so much force it takes my breath away. His lips are warm and strong, slanting over mine. I can’t think over the roar in my ears. Can’t feel anything but the sensations he evokes.

I put a hand on his cheek and kiss him back. His skin is warm and slightly rough. Heat courses through me with every kiss, pulsing through my veins like lava. He deepens the kiss and brushes my lower lip with his tongue.

I’ve never been kissed like this.

It’s all-consuming, all-encompassing, pervasive like he would rather die than stop kissing me. There’s thoroughness in each kiss. He’s not rushing. We’re not rushing. I slide my hand into his hair, my fingers gripping the thick strands.

He groans, low in the back of his throat, and his hand lands on my knee. I wonder dimly if I can climb onto his lap. If that’s allowed. He seems to think it is because his free hand finds the curve of my waist. It’s large and strong and tugging me forward, and he just keeps kissing me, switching between deep, slow pulls and soft brushes.

I shift forward on the couch and he catches me, pulling me firmly against him. One of my legs ends up across his lap, and I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t focus. There’s only him.

He runs a hand over the length of my hair. “Isabel,” he mutters. His voice is low and hoarse. “Tell me to stop.”

I brush my lips against his. “Why?”

“What are we doing?” he asks. It’s less of a question and more of a groaning admonition, but I answer him anyway.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

His hand slides to my neck, and it stops there. Curving around to my nape. He pulls back and rests his head against the back of the couch. He’s breathing fast, and his eyes are nearly black.

“No,” he mutters. “No, we’re not doing this.”

I brush my thumb over my lip. Why? But I can see the beginnings of a shutdown in him, the walls beckoning. The rejection stings. “Okay,” I whisper.

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. And then he’s pushing my leg off his lap and pulling out of my arms.

“Alec?” I call to him as he starts to move away from the couch.

He stops a few feet away. His shoulders rise and fall visibly with his breathing.

It takes him a moment to speak, and when he does, his voice is that of Alec Connovan, my boss, and the CEO of Contron. It’s not the Alec of the nighttime couch.

“I’m sorry for that,” he says. “It was a mistake, and I assure you it won’t happen again.”

“Okay,” I whisper. The world is still faintly spinning around me, and my lips still feel swollen from his kisses. But his words chafe as much as his tone.

He pauses for another second, as if he might say another word, but then he thinks better of it. He disappears down the hallway leading to his bedroom. In the silence that follows, I hear the characters on TV laugh.

It sounds mocking.

Isabel

The temperature in the Connovan penthouse turns arctic for the next few days. I’m not sure anyone but Alec and I notice the lack of warmth, but between us, it’s palpable.

He’s his usual self with Willa and Sam in the evenings—at dinner and when he puts them to bed. And I have my free time. But there are no more evenings on the couch and no conversations apart from discussing the logistics. I packed Willa’s bag for tennis tomorrow. Here’s a slip from Sam’s teacher, it requires your signature. Willa complained about a tummy ache yesterday.

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