Page 60 of Filthy Dirty Dom

When he felt Leslie smiling against his chest, Alex smiled too.

25

Alex and Leslie lay intertwined, their breaths synchronizing in the dim, early morning light. As Leslie’s fingers traced absent patterns on his bare skin, she looked up at him. "Are there any specific plans for today?"

She was right to ask. As much as he was enjoying holding her, knowing that the agreement they’d made last night was going to change things between them in a big way, they were not on some idyllic vacation. Their lives were in flux, their futures uncertain, every day carrying an edge of unpredictability.

"You've been trained in self-defense," he said, his voice a steady rumble in the quiet. "All your sisters have. But given what’s happening, I'd like to evaluate that training. Refresh it, show you some additional self-defense techniques."

She nodded, her fingers entwining with his. "I'm up for some self-defense lessons," she said, her voice hinting at the determination he knew she felt. Yet her eyes held a certain weariness, too, a clouded expression that signaled the strain of recent events.

"But can I destress first?" she asked. "I'm not great in the mornings. It takes me a while to settle in."

Alex couldn't help but chuckle at her honesty. He’d already known that about her, both from Branden and his own observations from being around the Duke family over the years.

"How much time do you need?"

Leslie paused, considering his question. "Breakfast and some time sketching or swimming?”

"Sounds good," he agreed.

She smiled then looked down, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the sheets now, her body tense. He could tell something was eating at her, something beyond the mere stress of their circumstances.

He propped himself up on an elbow, studying her face closely. "What's on your mind, Leslie?"

Her eyes flicked to his, a glimmer of worry reflected in them. "Do you think we'll be home in time for Branden's wedding?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration and uncertainty. Her brother was due to marry Cara in Scotland soon. He didn't have the answer she wanted, the reassurance that everything would fall into place as they hoped.

"I don't know," he said. "But I'll do everything in my power to make that happen."

Her lips curved into a small, appreciative smile, though the worry never completely disappeared from her eyes. They began to talk about the wedding dress she was making for Cara. Leslie's eyes lit up when she talked about her work, her fingers sketching invisible designs in the air, mimicking the motion of her needle and thread.

"We picked a design," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "I’ve started working on it, and I’m over half-way done."

As she described the intricate details, the fabrics, the textures, the embellishments, Alex found himself lost as to what some of her words meant, but not lost when it came to witnessing the passion she exhibited. He listened, entranced.

When she once again grew quiet, he felt compelled to say again, "I don't know if we'll be back in time, Sunshine. I’m sorry. There are just too many factors at play. But I hope we do make it."

Hell, Branden was his best friend, and Alex was supposed to be his best man.

"Me too," she murmured. Then she said in almost a whisper. "But there is a very small part of me that hopes we don’t.”

His brow furrowed, the unexpected contradiction startling him. "Why?”

“First, because we’ll be over then.”

Alex's heart clenched. "Let's not talk about the end," he suggested, his voice barely more than a whisper, "when we’ve barely even gotten started, yeah?"

Leslie gave him a small smile, a soft sigh escaping her. "Okay."

“So what’s the second reason?”

“Well…Cara and Branden… They're like celebrities," she explained, her fingers once again tracing absent patterns on the bed sheet. "The wedding will be the talk of New York. And the dress, it will get a lot of exposure."

Ah. He got it. Her passion for her craft was evident, yet her fear that the dress wouldn’t be perfect or well received was something she was worrying about.

"I'm sure whatever you design will be beautiful, Leslie," he assured her, his voice soft, soothing. He meant it. She was talented and had an eye for detail that was remarkable.