Page 55 of Filthy Dirty Dom
"No, no need. It was thoughtful. I’m going to get ready for bed,” she said.
After a brief hesitation, he nodded and walked away.
Leslie closed the door and quickly did her thing, washing up and putting on a modest nightdress that the housekeeper had also laid out. When she walked into the bedroom, Alex smiled then grabbed his bag only to disappear into the bathroom next.
Leslie climbed into bed, still not certain whether they were sharing it.
When Alex stepped out of the bathroom, the sight of him made her heart skip a beat. He was bare-chested, the bedroom light highlighting the chiseled definition of his abdomen and the sinewy strength of his chest. The smattering of hair that trailed from his navel and disappeared beneath his sweats was tantalizingly inviting. Each muscle was perfectly defined, every plane and contour a testament to the physical strength he wielded with such casual ease.
He was the epitome of male beauty, raw and unfiltered.
His expression was unreadable, his gaze trained on her with an intensity that made her heart pound in her chest. Silently, he strode toward the other side of the bed, then climbed in. They both turned off the bedside lights, then silently lay there. As minutes ticked by, Leslie was acutely aware of the sounds of her breathing. This was awkward. So awkward. Not nearly as comfortable as how they’d been when she’d spent the night after his injury, even though she shouldn’t have even been there. Maybe this stiffness, this silence, was his way of telling her without telling her that nothing was ever going to happen between them again. Maybe—
"Come here, Leslie," he commanded gently.
A shiver of excitement ran down her spine at his words. The bed dipped under her weight as she turned toward him. He drew her into his arms, his touch firm yet gentle, pulling her flush against his firm torso.
The heat of him was like a living entity, a warm and comforting presence that contrasted sharply with the coolness of the sheets. It was a warmth that she could bask in, a heat that beckoned her closer, urging her to melt into him.
As he enveloped her in his arms, a sigh escaped her. She closed her eyes as his scent surrounded her, a blend of masculinity and something crisp, almost fruity.
Every one of Leslie’s senses was heightened, every nerve ending alert. The sound of his steady breathing, the feel of his heartbeat against her cheek, all of it conspired to create an atmosphere charged with a heady mix of comfort and desire. The outside world, with its secrets and dangers, seemed to fade away, replaced by the all-encompassing warmth and strength of Alex.
She leaned a little heavier into him. His response was immediate, his hold, a silent testament to his own need for closeness. Alex's hand in her hair was a comforting weight, his fingers gently sifting through the strands. The tension from earlier seemed to ebb away, replaced by a sense of calm.
"You like the island?" His voice broke the silence, low and quiet. The vibration of his words rumbled through his chest, a pleasant sensation that tickled her ear.
"Mmm," Leslie hummed, her fingers absently tracing the tattoos on his chest, lingering on the tree over his heart and the cute little monkey that peeked out from behind it. "It's beautiful."
There was a pause, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "You're dying to ask questions, aren't you?" he probed, a note of teasing lacing his voice.
She let out a soft chuckle, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "Is it that obvious?" she admitted sheepishly, her fingers stilling.
“Just a little.” He paused, as if trying to decide how much to say. "I met the family after college," he began, choosing his words carefully, "in the time before I worked for Branden. I was in the military then."
"Was it... difficult. Your time in the military?" she asked tentatively, not wanting to pry but unable to resist the curiosity tugging at her.
"It was," Alex admitted. He didn't say more, but he didn't have to. The shadow that crossed his face said enough.
As silence enveloped them once again, Leslie wondered whether it was his military past, his connection with this family, or something else that was the cause of the pain that occasionally surfaced in his eyes.
Maybe it was all three.
He was a mystery, a beautifully complex enigma that she yearned to unravel.
But for now, as the soft lullaby of the ocean drifted through the open window and the steady rhythm of Alex's heart lulled her to sleep, Leslie was content to let the questions rest.
She must have slept, because one second she was loving being in Alex’s arms, and the next she was no longer there. No longer safe. Instead, the cave they had seen during their tour took center stage.
From its depths emerged a figure. The disorienting boom of a gunshot echoed around her, and she watched, horror-stricken, as Alex crumpled to the ground. The figure then swung the gun towards her. The deafening blast of the gun going off shattered the silence and...
Leslie woke with a start, a scream dying in her throat. Her heart raced like a locomotive, and she clutched at the sheets, struggling to shake off the lingering horror of her nightmare.
"You’re okay, baby," Alex said, his voice thick with sleep and worry, his gaze boring into her as he registered her panic-stricken state.
Tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks unchecked, her breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. “I dreamed that you were shot. That someone killed you and wanted to kill me.”
Alex's arm tightened around her, pulling her close against his chest. She buried her face in his shoulder as sobs wracked her body. He didn't press her for answers, simply held her, his hand stroking soothing circles on her back.