The Seduction of Alex Parker(26)

I looked over at Emerson, who was on her third glass of wine. She kept staring over at Bella and it made me uncomfortable.

“I see you staring at that woman over there. Why do you keep doing that?” I asked.

“Why not? She was staring at me first. I think she’s very pretty except for that mess of curly hair. She really should see a stylist about those ends.”

I chuckled as I took the glass of wine from her hand. “I think you’ve had enough wine.”

Her head tilted as she took the glass back from me. “Who are you? The wine keeper?” She brought the glass up to her lips and finished it off in one swallow.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut you off now,” I spoke with authority.

She put her hand to my face. “You can’t and won’t tell me when I’ve had enough.”

“Emerson, I’m warning you.” I looked around at the table to make sure nobody heard her.

She grabbed my cheek and pinched it. “You’re so f*cking cute when you think you’re in control.”

“Okay. Let’s go. We need to get you home.” I softly took hold of her arm.

She let out a light laugh. “I don’t have a home, Parker. I’m homeless.”

I put my arm around her to make sure she didn’t fall over. As we were walking out of the ballroom, Bella was standing in the lobby with some guy.

“That man she’s with is sexy.” Emerson smiled as she looked at me.

“No he’s not.”

“Jealous?”

“Why the hell would I be jealous?”

She didn’t answer me. When we stepped outside the hotel, Phillip was there, holding the car door open. I helped Emerson in the back seat and climbed in next to her.

“I think I need to lie down.”

“Lay your head on my lap.”

“You’re not going to get a boner, are you?” She smirked.

“Emerson, just lay your damn head down and close your eyes,” I spoke in irritation but on the inside, I was smiling.

When we arrived home, I helped her out of the Bentley and then picked her up, carrying her into the house and to her room as she laid her head on my chest. I set her down and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the ground. Her body was a dream and I wanted nothing more than to f*ck her into oblivion. But I wouldn’t. She had too much to drink and I would never take advantage. I grabbed the nightshirt that she had sitting on the bed and slipped it over her head. Pulling back the covers, I helped her climb in, and the moment her head hit the pillow, her eyes closed. Softly kissing her forehead, I placed the back of my hand on her cheek.

“Sleep well, Emerson James.”

****

Emerson

As I lay in bed, I couldn’t help thinking about what I had seen last night between Alex and frizzy curly-haired girl. Seeing them kissing cut deep into my soul and it pissed me off. Why? I couldn’t tell you. I liked Alex a lot and he was there with me, not her. For him to go off and kiss another woman when he was with a woman was a total douchebag move. And then to sit at the table and pretend not to know her was even worse. I gave him the opportunity to tell me, but he didn’t. He played dumb. Typical man. I was going to put an end to my wandering thoughts so I climbed out of bed and marched to the kitchen. He wasn’t there. I stomped up the stairs and opened his bedroom door. He wasn’t there. I walked through the entire house and I couldn’t find him. It was apparent he wasn’t home. Where the hell did he go? It was Sunday.

As I stood and watched the coffee brew, mug gripped tightly in my hand, waiting for it to finish, the patio door opened and Alex walked in. He was drenched in sweat.

“Good morning,” he spoke as he wiped his face with a towel.

“Where were you?” I demanded to know.

“I went for a run. Can’t you tell?” He smirked. “I’m surprised you’re up already. I figured you’d be in bed all day, hung over.”

“Is there a reason why you didn’t make coffee when you woke up?” I asked with an attitude.

“I wanted to wait until I got back. I don’t like to run after drinking coffee.”

It was gnawing at me. The question that I had since last night. “Are you going to tell me who the frizzy curly-haired woman was that you were kissing last night?”

His eyes narrowed at me and he pursed his lips. Leaning against the counter, he folded his arms.

“No. Actually, I’m not going to tell you. I’m sorry you saw that.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry? Fuck, Alex. Could you be any more of a douchebag?”

“A what?” He cocked his head.

I took my phone from the counter, googled the word “douchebag,” and handed it to him.

He arched his brow as he read it out loud from the Urban Dictionary site. “‘Someone who has surpassed the levels of jerk and *; however, not yet reached f*cker or motherf*cker.’ Well, at least I’m not a f*cker.”

“Not yet anyway, but you’re sure close.”

“Umm. You just received a text message from someone named Keith.”

I grabbed my phone from his hand and looked at it. Rolling my eyes, I set my phone down and poured myself a cup of coffee.

“Are you going to tell me who Keith is?”

“Actually, I’m not going to tell you. I’m sorry you saw that.” I took my phone and my coffee and strutted to my room, shutting the door behind me.