Aleck is perfect. Aesthetically, anyway.

He drops the keycard on the island, where I thought he would set me, but he holds me tightly and continues to my bedroom. Our bedroom.

I thought he would set me on the bed, but he doesn’t. He walks us into the bathroom and sets me down next to the walk-in shower. He reaches in and turns on the water, adjusts the temperature, then begins to undress me. He bends to one knee then slides off my heels, one-by-one. Then, he unlaces his shiny dress shoes, and stands, stepping out of them next.

He slips the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, leaving me in only a white lace thong.

A growl from the back of his throat lights a fire between my legs, and I reach for him. But he stops me. He grabs my wrists gently, laying my arms by my sides, then proceeds to remove his clothes, his lavender tie first. Something about a man loosening his tie with his gaze digging deep into his prey, feral and hot, is enough to make me drop to my knees. But I only watch while the magnetism in everything he does makes the throb between my legs more intense.

Next, his shirt. The buttons pop loose, one-by-one, revealing more and more of his granite-hard chest, dusted with thick dark hair, then his abs, then the thin stripe of hair below his navel, leading to the part of him that has owned my body since he first entered me.

I reach for him again to speed up the process, but he grabs my wrists, this time more firmly, gritting his teeth. He lifts me by my hips, setting me inside the shower under the hot stream of water, his arms and chest getting soaked in the process. But he remains as unaffected by it as he seemed about our last night together.

His eyes drop to my bare breasts and his jaw ticks. His gaze travels down my stomach to my thong.

“Take it off,” he says, his tone hard and raspy.

I do as I’m told, dropping it at his feet daringly.

Aleck removes the rest of his clothes until he stands naked, his eyes on me while he steps into the shower. I make room for him under the stream, and he reaches past me and grabs my loofah, squeezing a generous amount of milky-white soap into it. Then, he presses the loofah to my shoulder and starts rubbing circles over my skin, washing me.

Bubbles form over my collarbone, then he moves to my breasts, his growing erection like a monument between us. I reach for him, but he steps back, his gaze snapping from my breasts to my eyes. Without a word, he shakes his head with a definite no.

Anger burns inside me, heating my skin to dangerous temperatures. My arms snap forward, slapping into his chest, making water spray my face.