Alex? Your Alex?
He’s not my Alex.
Not really. Not yet.
I type back quickly.
Elena
Yes, please. It’s his birthday that weekend too.
I stare at the screen, the message hovering in my lap like it might change everything.
Another ding.
Philippa
OKAY.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. I’m giddy. A little breathless. She agreed. Now all that’s left is Alex.
By the time I reach his building, my pulse is already ticking faster. I ride the elevator in silence, the mirrored walls catching the red of my dress, the flushed pink in my cheeks.
The butterflies are already fluttering, wildly. Heat gathers low and slow beneath my skin.
The elevator hums toward the top floor.
I press the buzzer. The door opens a moment later, and there he is.
White T-shirt. Loose gray sweats. His hair damp from a shower, curling slightly at the ends. He smells clean, fresh. His skin glows, flushed from the heat.
He lookssogood. So sexy.
“Hi,” I squeak.
His eyes widen as they take me in, sweeping from my heels to the hem of my dress, then climbing slowly, deliberately, up my body. They stop at my chest. He lingers.
He likes what he sees.
“You dressed up for me?” he asks, voice low, rough. His gaze darkens.
I nod, lips parting, but I don’t get the chance to speak.
He yanks me by the waist and lifts me clean off the ground. I gasp, arms looping around his neck as my legs wrap easily around him. My purse slips from my shoulder, landing somewhere on the floor.
He kisses me. Hard.
Urgent. Hungry. Like he’s been waiting all day.
His fingers grasp the nape of my neck.
I melt into him, breath stolen, every nerve lit, and don’t care that we haven’t talked. That things are undefined. That this might not be a good idea.
All I know is his mouth, his hands, the heat spiraling fast and unstoppable between us.
Then my stomach growls.
Loud. Immediate. So obnoxiously human, it breaks the moment clean in half.