Dirty Rogue: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(75)

But when our eyes meet as he approaches the table, a thousand-watt smile playing across his lips, it’s like the entire world stops moving for a single heartbeat. When it starts spinning again, it’s going in the opposite direction.

My heart hammers inside my chest.

What are the chances?

What are the chances?

I never asked Christian how he met my date-of-the-week, and even if I did, how could it possibly explain the infinitesimally small odds that Alec and I are working against? New York City is jam-packed with handsome men. Christian has more connections than anyone I’ve ever met—he has an easy charm about him that makes you feel like you’re his new best friend—but how did these two ever come across each other?

I make a mental inventory of everything I know about Alec, and aside from an intimate knowledge of the ridges and dips of his body, the answer is—because of my own rules, Jesus Christ—almost nothing. He has a nice apartment, it’s clean with new furniture and has recently been renovated by the looks of it, but it isn’t the kind of thing that would connect him to Christian, one of the richest men in the city aside from Jax Hunter.

Too late, I realize that my mouth is still hanging open, so I snap it shut as Alec reaches the table, sliding smoothly into the seat next to me.

Christian has noticed and is already laughing at my stricken expression.

“I take it you’re impressed with your date for the evening, Jess?” I narrow my eyes at him, speechless, flabbergasted. At this, Christian’s laughter doubles and the rest of our group grins indulgently. When he finally gets ahold of himself, dabbing the corners of his eyes with his napkin, he reaches a hand across the table for Alec to shake.

“I’m sorry, Alec, that wasn’t polite. It’s just that my friend Jess here looked like she’d seen the ghost of a male model coming to be her date for the night.”

Alec cuts his eyes toward me, still smiling, an ember of excitement burning in the center of his green eyes. “Don’t be too hard on her. We’ve actually met before…once or twice.”

Christian’s eyes go wide, and he drops back into his seat more heavily than I think he intended. “Really?” He looks from me to Alec and back to me again.

I find my voice, and I can’t resist. I have to know.

“How the hell did you two meet each other?” I ask, my voice going high with my disbelief.

“At the gym,” Christian says immediately, and the three words set the wheels spinning in my mind. Christian’s gym is without a doubt the most expensive fitness club in New York City. He’s taken me as a guest a couple of times, and the place is no joke. If Alec is a member, he’s got some serious personal capital.

We have never once discussed money. Why would we? That’s in the same category as “last names” and “identifying details.”

Suddenly, I remember that I took him with me to the Bystander, and my cheeks go hot with shame before I can stop myself from caring who notices. It is absolutely pointless to make comparisons between the kinds of places I frequent when left to my own devices and the kinds of places where my friends have memberships. Holy shit. He’s probably got enough money to afford a membership at the Swan, and I took him to the Bystander like some kind of scraping-by grad student.

I turn toward him, shaking my head, taking him in, totally ignoring Christian’s eyes on us. I want to say something witty, something sarcastic, something to show him that he doesn’t have any effect on me, that this is just a hilarious coincidence.

But we both know it’s not.

Alec looks back into my eyes, his green irises glinting in the candlelight. Then he grins at me, a half-smile that sends a jolt of lust screaming down my spine and straight between my legs. He reaches out, takes my hand in his, and kisses the back of it like some kind of royal courtier from the movies, and breathes into my ear in that to-die-for accent I could listen to forever and dominates my dreams, “I think this is a sign, Jessica0607.”





The next morning I wake up slowly, becoming aware in increments of the bed, the covers, the room.

It’s still early. The light streaming through Alec’s bedroom windows is soft and yellow, indicating it’s another perfect midsummer morning.

It’s coming on the heels of a night so hot I’m surprised the sheets aren’t scorched.

I stretch, the sheets sliding over my bare skin. They feel soft—a high thread count, no doubt—and I relish the silky sensation against me.

Alec’s hand joins the sheets on the flat expanse of my stomach, and I turn my head to look into his face, flushed with sleep, eyes already glittering.

“I don’t think I can ignore this any longer,” I murmur, and he nods against his pillow.

“What do you think?” he asks, the cocky swagger filtering through his voice even now. “Should we trade last names? No…too dangerous.”

“Why?” I say, giggling. He’s just playing with me. I know, deep down, that we’re going to tell each other everything. “Do you have a dark and mysterious past?”

An expression I can’t place flashes across his face, and I wonder if I’ve hit a nerve.

But almost as fast as it disappeared, the smile is back. His hands are around my waist, pulling me, lifting me up so I’m straddling him, the perfection of his chest the perfect resting place for my hands.