Dirty Sexy Alphas (Twenty Book Box Set) - Hannah Ford Page 0,123

got closer, I saw that the space was marked PENTHOUSE. So he had the penthouse. God, could he have been any more of a cliché? He ran a strip club and lived in a penthouse. And drove a hot car.

He got out of the car and came around to the side and opened my door for me. I stepped out into the parking lot.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome.” His eyes flicked down to my wrist again, his gaze lingering on my scars. I quickly yanked the sleeves of my shirt down, and this time, he didn’t ask questions.

“Let’s go,” he said. He took my hand and pulled me toward the elevator.

His apartment was just what you’d expect – guy central. An enormous flat screen TV, black leather couches, a huge black and white circle rug on the hardwood floor. The only thing that was surprising was the art on the walls.

There were huge abstract paintings in shades of red, black, white, and turquoise. They added a certain elegance to the place, making it seem like the apartment of a man who had sophisticated tastes, instead of a boy who just threw everything together because he had money and thought it looked cool.

Colt headed to the bar and poured two drinks, then handed one to me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I don’t drink,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t drink?”

“No.” Growing up in foster homes made you go either one of two ways – you either ended up drinking like most of your foster parents, or you became determined not to end up like them, and so you stayed far away from alcohol. I was the latter.

“You wanted to be a stripper and you don’t drink?” He threw his head back and laughed, like this was the funniest thing in the world.

“Can you show me where I’ll be sleeping?” I asked. My tone was clear – that he’d better not think we’d be sleeping in the same bed.

“Sure.” He took a long slow sip from his glass, then turned and started walking up the spiral staircase that was on the other side of the room. I hesitated, not sure I should follow him. The thought of being alone upstairs with him sent a shiver down my spine. My stomach twisted into knots – but it wasn’t out of fear. It was very strange – even though I didn’t know anything about Colt, I sensed deep down that he wasn’t going to hurt me. In fact, his presence, although mysterious and dark, was also somehow soothing.

I followed him up the stairs to a room at the end of the hall.

He opened the door for me.

“There are towels in the closet in the bathroom,” he said.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my lips. I thought again about how close I came to kissing him, and my face flushed.

“You should have a nap,” Colt said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

And then, just like that, he was gone.

I looked around the room – it was simple and tasteful. A cream-colored platform bed rested against the far wall, covered with a cream-and-blue comforter. A small nightstand was next to it, and on it was a silver clock, a plant with wide green leaves that seemed to be real, and a stack of books.

I ran my hand over the spines. All philosophy books.

I turned to the adjoining bathroom.

It was small, but modern, with a mosaic-tiled shower and a basin sink.

In the closet I found fluffy robes and fluffy towels. I ran my hand over the soft fabric. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a shower with a fluffy towel, or even a shower where there weren’t a bunch of people waiting for me to finish.

The shower had a dial so you could digitally set the temperature to be as cold or as warm as you wanted, and I set it as high as I could stand, then got in and let the water slide over my body. I washed my hair with a coconut shampoo that was sitting on a rack in the bathroom, then wrapped myself in a towel and returned to the bedroom.

There was a tray resting on the bed, and sitting on top of it was a bowl of soup and a sandwich. BLT. My favorite. Next to that was a neatly folded gray t-shirt and a pair of track pants.

I hadn’t eaten anything all day – this morning at the shelter