Dirty Sexy Alphas (Twenty Book Box Set) - Hannah Ford Page 0,174

once at around 3 am, and he woke up, too, and kissed me softly on the lips. “You okay, baby?” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.

I nodded and he pulled me even closer. I snuggled into him, and I’d never felt so safe in my life. The only reason I even woke up in the first place was because I couldn’t believe the way I felt. It was so foreign to me, this feeling of peace – it seemed as if my body wanted to keep waking me up just to make sure it was still there.

In the morning, he was gone.

There was a note on the bedside table.

At the gym. ~C

I got out of bed, then showered quickly and dressed in a pair of jeans and a black V-neck sweater that Kendra the housekeeper had picked out for me.

Then I went to the living room and sat down.

It was weird being in the apartment alone, without Colt, and the safe feeling I’d had last night felt suddenly precarious, as if it could be yanked away from me at any moment.

My body was wired with nervous energy, and the silence was setting me on edge. I was just about to turn on the tv when Colt came back.

He had that sexy slightly sweaty thing going on that guys got after they went to the gym– the messy hair, the muscles seemingly more defined even though you knew that was impossible after just one work out.

“Hi,” I said, suddenly inexplicably nervous.

“Sleep well, Princess?” he asked, his cocky swagger back. He walked to the kitchen and I followed him, watched as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out his water bottle.

“I did, actually.”

“You kept waking up.” He tipped his head back and took a swig from his water bottle. His t-shirt clung to his biceps and I remembered how his arm muscles flexed as he was poised on top of me, pushing into me, his cock rock hard.

I shivered.

He finished his water and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. “Hungry?”

I nodded. “Starving.”

“Breakfast?”

“Depends on what you’re making.”

“No, I mean, go out to breakfast.”

“With you?” I asked, shocked for some reason. The thought of going out somewhere with him, just the two of us, seemed somehow foreign and outside the realm of possibility. It seemed like a date.

“No, by yourself,” he said sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “Yes, with me.” He reached down and pulled his sweaty t-shirt off, and my body flooded with desire.

“Okay.”

“I’m going to shower and then we’ll go.”

“Sounds good.” I was trying to play it cool as he walked down the hall, but I couldn’t contain my excitement. I hadn’t been out to breakfast in years, hadn’t been in a restaurant in God knew how long, except to sneak in and use the bathroom or that time last year when I spent two hours in a Denny’s nursing one cup of coffee because it was freezing outside, praying they wouldn’t kick me out.

Twenty minutes later, Colt appeared again, dressed in a leather jacket and dark jeans, his hair still messy and damp from the shower. He hadn’t bothered to shave, and there was stubble on his strong jaw.

I immediately wanted to kiss him, to feel his stubble brushing against my cheeks as his tongue pushed into my mouth, wanted to feel his stubble against the inside of my thighs as he moved higher.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded and began to follow him out the door.

He didn’t reach for my hand, and there was something about his body language that was closed off and contained. Did he regret telling me what he’d told me about his uncle? Did he wish we hadn’t slept together? Was he worried that because he’d held me close all night he’d given me the wrong idea of what he wanted?

If so, he didn’t need to be worried.

I was under no illusions.

I knew I wasn’t his girlfriend.

I remembered that girl, Ava, the one who had come up to him the other night, the stripper who had asked him to the after party.

Those were the kinds of girls Colt hung out with.

He opened the passenger side door of his car for me and I slid inside, the scent of the leather seats filling my nose.

We drove to the restaurant in silence. I kept stealing glances at him, trying to get a read on his mood, wondering what he was thinking, not just about me, but about everything he’d told me, everything we’d talked about. But it was