Page 22 of The Billionaire's Bargain

A corner of his mouth lifts. "Did you think I slept hanging upside down in a vault somewhere?"

The joke—Alexander Grant making a joke—startles a laugh out of me. "Maybe. Or plugged into a charging station."

His smile widens, transforming his face from intimidating to devastating. "I'm not actually an android, Alice, despite what the business press might suggest."

"Could've fooled me. I barely know you."

"Then you haven't been paying attention." He moves closer, his eyes darkening. "All there is to know about me that matters is I've been hungry since the moment I met you."

My heartbeat stutters, and heat floods my cheeks. Every time I think I've adjusted to the way he speaks to me—direct, possessive, intense—he says something that knocks me sideways.

"There's a private beach below," he says, changing the subject as if he hasn't just set my insides on fire. "Would you like to see it?"

I nod, not trusting my voice.

We descend a winding path carved into the cliff face, each turn revealing another stunning ocean vista. Alexander walks slightly ahead, but his hand finds the small of my back at particularly steep sections, steadying me. Each touch, though casual, sends electricity skittering across my skin.

The beach is a perfect crescent of white sand, sheltered by rocky outcroppings on either side. No neighboring estates visible. No onlookers. Just us.

"You own this?" I ask, though the answer is obvious.

"Privacy is worth every penny." He's watching me again, gauging my reaction to his wealth.

I've learned that Alexander's money is both shield and weapon. It's how he keeps people at arm's length while simultaneously drawing them close. It's the test he sets for everyone he meets—can they see past the billions to the man?

"Want to swim?" he asks, already unbuttoning his shirt.

Panic flutters in my chest. "I didn't bring a swimsuit."

His eyes never leave mine as he shrugs off his shirt, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen. For a man in his thirties, he's?—

"Underwear works just as well." His fingers move to his belt. "Or nothing at all."

My mouth goes dry. "Underwear is fine."

I turn away as he undresses further, fumbling with the buttons of my borrowed sundress. Everything I'm wearing was purchased by Alexander—delivered in neat packages with designer names I'd previously only seen in magazines.

The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in just my bra and panties. Plain cotton, nothing fancy. I'd been too embarrassed to wear the lacy scraps of silk and satin he'd provided.

"Alice." His voice has dropped an octave. "Look at me."

I turn, arms instinctively crossing over my belly, eyes downcast.

"No." A single word, but with unmistakable command. "Don't hide from me."

I force my arms to my sides, feeling exposed, vulnerable. When I finally raise my eyes to his, the naked hunger there steals my breath.

Alexander stands in just his boxer briefs, his body all hard angles and defined muscle. The kind of physique that comes from deliberate discipline, not vanity. A body built for purpose, not show. Yet it's his eyes that hold me captive—dark, fathomless, fixed on me with an intensity that should frighten me but instead makes me feel powerful.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, and somehow I believe he means it.

He extends his hand. "Come."

The water is cool against my heated skin as we wade in together. I expect Alexander to maintain his usual controlled demeanor, but he surprises me, diving beneath the surface and emerging with droplets streaming down his face, hair slicked back, looking younger and more carefree than I've ever seen him.

"It's cold!" I gasp as a small wave hits my midriff.

"Best way to deal with cold water?" He grins wickedly. "Full immersion."

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