Page 31 of Pillow Talk

Chapter 14

Alexa

Yawning, I stretch and feel the delightful ache between my thighs, reminding me of the night we shared. Rolling over, I’m disappointed to find that he’s gone. My hand rubs the spot where his body laid next to mine, finding it still warm. He can’t have been gone long. Snuggling over on his pillow, I pull the sheet around me, breathing in his scent.

“Ben?” I call out.

No reply.

Answering nature’s call, I drag myself to the bathroom and decide to go ahead and shower. He probably just ran to grab breakfast.

I’m not going to overanalyze or over react. Not going to do it.

The steam fills the room, blanketing my doubts.

After last night, I’m sure we are done with the back and forth.

The hot water does wonders to ease the aching muscles from our all-night lovemaking.

Lovemaking.

Love.

I love him.

I knew I felt something for him, an undeniable attraction. Sure. Chemistry is off the charts. Absolutely. But when I strip everything else away, I realize that I do love him. Me.

Someone who has spent her whole life avoiding relationships, just because of the disappointment that they bring. Knowing he has his own issues with relationships, I decide to wait to tell him.

However, I have the interview tomorrow with Tate and Cane, and I don’t want him to think this is about that…or that my feelings are contingent on what he can do for me. Deciding to not make any life altering decisions before coffee, I throw on a robe and head for the kitchen.

Stepping into the hall, the scent of brewing coffee hits me. Mmmmm.

“Ben, you are a saint.” I call out, eager for my first cup and feeling refreshed after my shower.

Before I get the far, I’m stopped dead in my tracks. A dark haired woman, who looks like a walking Chanel ad, is sitting on the sofa.

“I would have said more sinner than saint, but maybe you weren’t referring to the bedroom,” she hisses.

“Excuse me? Who the hell are you?” I bark out, even though I have an idea of who she is.

“Well, look at you playing house…” She stands and walks around as if inspecting me.

"What are you doing here? Where is Ben?" I demand, pulling my robe tighter around myself to ward off the chill running down my spine.

As much as I'm torn between slapping her in dragging her out of this room by her hair, I am rather curious as to why she's here.

"Please, sit." She gestures like she owns the place, sitting back down. "I took the liberty of making us a pot of coffee; I hope you don't mind. I figured you could do the honors." Her perfectly styled head nods toward the coffee service that she's placed on the table in front of us.

Slightly confused but complying, I pick up the carafe, not wanting to let her see how much she is getting to me, and begin to pour our coffee.

"Since you're the professional," she adds, causing my hands tremble, and the delicate China rattles in my fingers, anger and embarrassment flushing my cheeks. My blood boils as I stare at her.

"Sit," she orders.

With a defiant lift of my head, I inform her with as much venom as I can muster, “I'll stand, Tess.”

Her eyes flare with anger before she quickly recovers from the shock, and they frost back over. I’m sure she isn’t happy that her little game isn’t going according to plan, the element of surprise gone.