The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (20 page)

ALEX’S SHOWER IS reminiscent of a spa, with its five body sprays, and every woman’s favorite indulgence—an additional hand-held spray.
Hand-held’s are so useful,
I giggle to myself, noting its clear redundancy having Mr. Insatiable around.

Closing my eyes, I fall into the comfort of the steamed glass stall, relishing in its luxuriousness, the hot water raining over me, cascading down my body.

At the invasion of a gust of cool air, I open my eyes to find a naked Alexander Tate. The sudden chill, combined with the vision of his incredible body, creates an intoxicating cocktail as I visually devour him. It seeps into my every pore. I’m covered in tiny goose bumps, my nipples perked to erection. This man takes my breath away
.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Sure,” I reply breathlessly, practically drooling.

Grabbing the shampoo, he squirts a good amount into his palm, working it between his hands, the sensual motion stirring memories of their skillful touch. “Come here,” he demands.

In my euphoric trance, I obey, stepping towards him in anticipation.

He slowly gathers the length of my hair, lathering the shampoo through my long wet strands, massaging his fingers through the bundled pile.

I close my eyes in enjoyment. I’ve never had someone wash my hair—my semi-annual hair salon visit notwithstanding. The act leaves me feeling spoiled, and wholeheartedly cherished.

Tilting my head under the spray of water, he rinses the residual lather, sensuously combing his fingers through repeatedly in a gentle rhythm. The feel of his chest brushing my breasts with each movement is intoxicating.

His lips graze my throat, licking and kissing along my wet flesh. I moan at his touch, the superfluous acts of my daily shower ritual turned erotic.

He turns me, pulling my back flush against his hardened chest, the cascading water stimulating my sensitive nipples. My body bows under the steady stream as his hand incessantly explores the expanse of my slickened skin. The stimulation to my nipples is so intense, yet he holds me securely in place, forcing me to accept the sensual overload.

Caressing my jaw, he tilts my head, securing it against his shoulder, given prime access to my neck to continue the exhilarating teases of his lips and tongue. My senses are alight with desire at the feel of his largeness behind me, his tantalizing dominance the ultimate aphrodisiac.

I writhe uncontrollably in his grip as he dangles me over the edge of ecstasy. My sex trembles in want, achingly empty in its need for more, begging to be filled. “Alex . . . please . . . ”

“Shhh, baby,” he whispers.

Stepping backwards, he pulls me with him, gently lifting my leg to rest my foot against the shower wall. The jet sprays drum against my desperately needy core, the water sluicing along my cleft, beating incessantly against my clit, fully engorged in my lustful need. It’s almost too much, my body instinctively jerking against the impact.

Fisting his hand roughly in my hair, he holds my hip securely in place, refusing to let me turn away.

“It’s too much,” I plead in desperation.

“Take it, baby . . . come for me.”

The sensations coiling through me, combined with his erotic command erupt my release. My body quakes wildly in the explosion as I shake uncontrollably in his arms.

He allows no reprieve for recovery, turning me abruptly against the shower wall, dropping to his knees to crush his mouth on my over-sensitized clit. Lapping at my folds, he plunges his tongue inside, licking every ounce of my orgasm, the onslaught sending me to completion a second time.

“Oh . . . God . . . Oh my God,” I wail, my hands grasping for measure against the slick tiles.

He slides his fingers through my throbbing folds, curling deep, massaging the tender spot inside. The intense sexual fulfillment is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Masterful fingers continue to stroke, plummeting me over the edge once more.

My body trembles as the orgasm tears through me, his strong arms securing around me, preventing my wobbly knees from dropping to the shower floor.

Holding me upright, he stands, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to my lips. “Good morning,” he whispers.

Panting, I’m completely lax in his arms, moaning inaudibly at his words.

With a sexy laugh, he grabs the loofa, lathering our bodies before a final sensual rinse. His assistance in the task is a godsend, given I can hardly move; my over-sated body languid and relaxed.

Offering a quick peck on my lips, he turns off the water and steps out of the shower.

“Where are you going?” I question breathlessly, “I’m not done with you yet.” My hands itch to return the favor.

“That was all for you, baby.” Smirking, he hands me a large towel, a look of triumph donning his face.

You
should
feel smug after that display,
I think to myself, suddenly feeling the chill replace the steam in the shower stall.
But what about him?
“Don’t you need . . . ?”

Cupping my chin, his thumb brushes my lips in a slow erotic pull, silencing me. “I just got everything I need. For now.”

Stepping out of the shower, I watch as he masterfully dries his muscular body, completely in awe of his sexy selfless treat. My legs quiver in my attempts to dry myself, shaky from my unexpected yoga-esque lunges in the pimped-out shower. If only the circuits at the gym were so abstract and earthshakingly rewarding. Repeatedly rewarding. My vagina is
still
throbbing from its romp in the ‘rain forest’—the touch of the towel against my pulsing sex inviting a repeat performance, despite my three orgasms.

Seriously, this is straight out of one of my novels. An entire shower scene, with the man of my dreams patiently, and vehemently, catering to my needs and desires. Not
his.
Mine. Over and over. I tremble at the reminder of his fingers gently prodding every inch of my flesh, ensuring the showerheads hit every erogenous zone.

Resting my foot on the vanity, I towel dry my calves, squealing at his sudden touch between my legs, fleetingly tantalizing me from behind. It’s a brief, teasing touch, leaving me yearning, yet so fulfilled at the same time.

Yearning is a feeling I’m familiar with, or should I say, being
left
yearning. My fulfillment didn’t always make the cut for consideration during my bump-n-grind sessions with Liam. Let alone be given my own halftime show—PVR-ed and on repeat. I’ve certainly never experienced anything
just for me.
This new yearning is one I could definitely get used to.

“Are you hungry? I can make us breakfast,” Alex pulls me back to real-time, giving me one of his sexy as shit smiles before bending to kiss my cheek. “We should boost your energy for the rest of the day. You’ll need it later when it’s my turn,” he adds with a wink, his lips curling into a devilish grin.

Taking me in a lingering kiss, he exits the bathroom without another word. Filled with renewed tingles, I watch him walk out of sight.

What an amazing way to start the day.
How could I have predicted that my morning shower would turn into such sweet abandon?
I think to myself, brushing my wet hair into place, my fingers trailing the water beads down my neck and shoulder where his lips were moments ago.

I feel beautiful taking in my naked form in the mirror. It’s been so long since I allowed myself to appreciate my own beauty. Finally free of all of the hidden, silent doubt that I allowed to cover me for so many years. It’s a liberating feeling. I smile at the new woman reflected back at me, combing my fingers through my hair.

Shaking my head in awe, I make my way towards the bedroom, finding Alex fully clothed heading down the hallway, a quick wink back at me as he descends the stairs.

With his promise of breakfast, I realize that our continuous sex-acrobatics have left me hungry. Starving actually. I can’t help but smile at the thought of him catering to me in the kitchen, and at the thought of what we will spend the subsequent renewed energy doing.

His bedroom is understated in size and décor. Just large enough to fit a queen size bed, end tables, dresser, and small sitting chair. It’s telling of its owner—classic and charming.

Left to my own devices in this sacred room, which undoubtedly stores many more insights into the man himself, I can’t help but wonder what’s hiding in those dresser drawers.
I could take a quick peek,
I think to myself, my need to learn more about the man beyond the magazine covers giving rise to my curious kitten. Securing my towel in place, I saunter towards the five-drawer chest, the anticipation of what I’ll find hiding inside irresistible. “Perhaps I’ll just open this drawer and grab one of his t-shirts to wear,” I whisper aloud, easing it partially open with gentle fingers.

The loud shrill of the door chime jars me in my guilty endeavor, sending me jumping like a frightened cat.
Holy hell!
I feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I laugh at my guilt-ridden squeamishness, closing the drawer and dressing quickly, my interest swiftly shifted to the unexpected visitor.

Walking towards the winding staircase, running my hand along the railings edge, I see Alex making his way to the door. I’m not sure I should announce myself to this unknown guest, however I’m more than curious to see who would be stopping by so early on a Friday morning.

Remaining in place, I peek over the railing, my vantage point showcasing a slender woman about my age walk through the opened door and proceeds to kiss Alex on each cheek. I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but I sense this woman’s greeting kisses have a little more caress to them. Maybe it’s his sister?

“Julia,” Alex greets her.

Julia?
His sister’s name is Anna. I’m annoyed that this woman, Julia, or whoever she is, has interrupted my dream morning.

“Good morning,” Julia states in a husky voice.

I’m guessing from her accent, she’s American, with a tone akin to Kathleen Turner. Very sexy. How shitty is that?
She sounds as hot as she looks. Her straight, long blonde locks hitting just beneath her shoulders, sporting a sophisticated black suit jacket and matching pencil shirt, this woman looks fierce.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alex asks light-heartedly, closing the door, turning to make his way towards the kitchen.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing pleasurable about it,” the blonde goddess replies, following him.

I’m straining to hear them as they walk out of view of my prying eyes. Slipping further into the corner of the landing, I try for a better visual with no success. I feel a little guilty about my intrusive stance, especially after my inquisitive behavior in the bedroom a moment ago, but I can’t help myself.

“Making me work for my money now?” she questions.

The bang of something smacking a surface startles me, the loud thud reverberating off the stark, close-knit walls.

“These fan-snapped photos of you and your new puppy dog named ‘Nobody’ are plastered all over every gossip publication in the city. They’ll be viral by tomorrow.”

Hold up . . .
Did she just call me a puppy dog? I brush the question off, trying to focus on the issue at hand.
Pictures of Alex? With me? In gossip magazines?

“You know, if it was sex you were after, all you had to do was ask,” she adds, her latter twist in tone sending goose bumps up my arms.

Did she just offer him sex?
I’m reeling, trying to digest everything I’m hearing.

“Watch yourself, Julia. You manage my image, not my sex life.”

Ohhhh . . . that’s who she is. His publicist,
I realize. His publicist offering him
sex?

“And her name is Aby,” he adds snidely.

“I don’t give a shit what her name is. I can’t protect you if you don’t give me a courteous heads up before I have to find out along with all the rest of the puppy dogs trolling for your life’s storyline. Your agency pays me to provide a service, so please allow me to do my job.”

Hearing a sigh from Alex, he replies, “It’s new. This just happened. I can’t very well hide out all the time. This shit is unavoidable.”

“Yes, clearly it’s new. And, clearly, you know nothing about her. Despite the media’s classification of ‘unidentified woman,’ I’ve done my research on your latest bed-partner.”

“Research?” he laughs. “I don’t need you to look into those I choose to share my bed with. Do we need to revisit boundaries?” he questions with a bite.

What the hell does that mean?

“Screw you, Alex, I do what the agency tells me to,” she bites back. “And this unavoidable shit, as you call it, is part and parcel with your career. They pay me to ensure your shit smells like roses.”

There’s a moment of silence. It’s painful. I wish I could see them, to at least be able to take in their body language.

“So, shall I paint the potentially shitty picture for you?” Julia finally continues.

“Just get to the point,” he sounds annoyed.

“Gladly. You’ve shackled yourself with a woman who’s literally run away from her life, marriage included, on some pre-mid-life-crisis whim. She’s one puppy dog short of Thelma and Louise. How long do you figure it will take the media to find out who she is and dig up the information? It certainly didn’t take me long—although I’m
very
good . . . as you know,” that sexy twist returns to her tone, scraping through my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

I can barely breathe. I grab the railing for support as her words bounce through my head.
How does she know all of this about me?

Alex says nothing before she continues, “They’re like hounds for a story to smear you with. I think this new puppy might just be exactly what they’re hunting for.”

Oh shit . . .
I try to pull myself up on shaky knees, slowly backing away from the stairs in fear. Fumbling a step, I bump the small console table behind me, knocking a vase off kilter. I catch it, but the damage is done.

“Aby?” I hear the surprise in Alex’s voice, followed by Julia’s quick questioning, “She’s
here?
”

My need to hide overtakes me and I find myself cowering in the bathroom, closing the door securely behind me.