Chasing You

Chapter 1 AlexaWhite. Everywhere. Startling white sunlight blasted my eyes open. More white surrounded me. I blinked, then ducked my head under the cloud of bedding. This isn’t my bed. Only hotels had bed sheets bleached this white. My heart jumped. Where was I? London? That was a month ago. A stopover in New York. A weekend in Vegas. Oklahoma for Christmas. Dallas. Last night. The slamming New Year’s party. What time is it? The vodka-induced pounding of my head muddled my mind. I had no clue where my dress was—or my underwear. A heavy ache anchored my legs, and my stomach roiled. I hadn’t allowed myself to get that drunk in years. The hangovers. The stupid decision making. The calories. Seriously, Alexa. Pull it together. Melissa, my New Year’s Eve accomplice, probably wondered where I was. We had a lunch appointment with good-luck black-eyed peas and collard greens. I could use some luck to pull my year out of the ditch. I was sputtering already, and it was only day one. First, I had to leave the warm bed, find my clothes, and get the hell out of…wherever I was. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” A masculine, sleep-rasped voice snatched my breath. I snapped upright, then yanked the duvet up over my bare chest. There he was—smiling, n***d, and awake in more ways than one. His eyes were half open, sleepy, and wanton under a fringe of golden brown lashes. My eyes slid down the lean stretch of muscle and tanned skin next to me on top of the covers. “Why can’t you disappear in a puff of smoke?” My heart thundered as if I’d finished an hour of wind sprints. Somehow, the words that sprang up in my head had come out of my mouth. GrahamI woke up steeped in the satisfaction of my New Year's Eve success. The details blurred, but I could practically feel the firm a*s in my hand, soft lips on mine, and the tight squeeze on my c**k. An easy, pleased-with-myself grin spread across my face. She stirred, rustling in the cocoon of bedding. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” She shot up. I caught a luscious view of dark-tipped breasts before she clutched the comforter up to her chin. Ginger ale eyes widened at me. She pressed her lips tight, beguiling dimples appearing in her cheeks. I wanted to banish Miss Prim and bring back the woman who’d bucked and clawed astride my lap a few hours before. She threw her face into her palms. "Why can't you disappear in a puff of smoke?" What? Women didn’t wish for Graham Ryan to disappear. Ever. I shoved aside my indignation and grinned. “That’s not the magic act I do, but drop the sheet, and I’ll show you another trick.” “Then I’ll disappear.” She swung away from me, fighting the bed sheets to get her feet on the floor. “Don’t go. Come on.” I touched her back, and she arched away and jumped out of bed. I got a fantastic view—long, n***d curves of creamy café au lait skin. “No. I’m not…no.” She scrambled to snatch her dress, handbag, and lace underthings off the floor, then raced into the bathroom. The door snapped shut. I leaned out of bed to grab my cell phone out of my pants pocket and reorient myself with the world while she attended to herself for several minutes. The muffled rush of water filled the room—first from the sink and then the shower. A clang of objects against the hard countertop surprised me. How much could she have in that tiny purse? And what would she look like in the shower? Rivulets of water streaming down the curves of her n***d body. Her back would arch, pushing her breasts forward and up. My hand roved down to my twitching groin, but then I slapped my thigh and thought about football. The Dallas Cowboys. Quarterback play. Defensive line woes. I couldn’t have her walk out and see me tugging on myself like a horny teenager who’d just seen my first boob. Plus, I still hoped to convince her to stay. I’d need that hard-on. Then, the door flung open as purposefully as it had been slammed shut. Somehow, she looked polished and bright—even in last night's spangly mini-dress. "I have to go.” "Why?" "I have plans. I'm probably already late. What time is it?" Her dispassionate tone sliced off each word flung in my direction. I sat up and turned the clock on the nightstand toward her. "10:22.” “Shit.” She flipped her gaze around the room, dark curly hair bouncing, then found her shoes tumbled over in the corner. Balancing like a dancer on one leg at a time, she strapped the spiked heels to her feet. "I have to get back to my hotel." "Give me two minutes. I’ll drive you." “No. I’ll manage.” She strode toward the door. Another second, and she’d be gone. "Where do you have to be in such a hurry on New Year's Day? I figured we could relax. Go have breakfast. Or order room service." She turned to face me. With the morning light dancing off the silver sequins of her dress, she looked like an angelic go-go dancer. My body stiffened again, which I made no attempt to hide from my guest. Her eyes darted to my erection and then locked back on mine. "I told you. I have plans. And I need to go back to my hotel and change." "Let me drive you. It's the least I can do." Her hand flew to her hip in a fist. "Since I did you the favor of having s*x with you?” Shit, she was a beast. My interest wavered even as she threw her sparkling hip to the side in an unwittingly sexy way. "I'm attempting to be nice." She huffed. "Fine. Are you going to shower or something?" "Yeah. Two minutes." Game on. So what if she was a little bitchy? Her body was killer, and I’d love another turn. I bounded to my feet and into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door. I threw on the shower and stepped inside. As soon as I closed the shower curtain, I heard the heavy thud of the hotel room door. Damn. I didn't even remember her name. AlexaI strutted across the posh lobby of the Ritz Carlton as if taking a turn on a fashion runway—not a walk of shame. I needed a ride and a coffee and a toothbrush. When I hit the valet stand, the shining sunlight blinded me. A headache split my skull like an ax, and my stomach did another pirouette. “Do you need a cab, ma’am?” “No. I have a ride on the way.” I glanced at my phone, checking the progress of my rideshare. “Two minutes.” I held the phone up to indicate that I was on top of the situation. “Quite the party last night.” The valet gestured toward the lobby bar. “Apparently.” I scoured my memory for details of my New Year’s Eve. Mr. Mystery and I hadn’t gone to the bar. We left the house party around one a.m. and checked into a room at the Ritz. Or maybe he already had the room? No. He’d stopped at the front desk. Slips of details surfaced like old receipts in my purse. What was his name? I knew he’d told me. Ryan something? As far as Possibly Ryan knew, my name was Lola. Melissa and I argued about my using my fake name while inching through the line for the bathroom. “How are you going to connect with the guy if he doesn’t know who you are?” “He’s only looking for a party. A party doesn’t require a name.” Melissa had pressed up to her tiptoes to shout into my ear. “That guy is smoking hot. And he’s into you. You could do better than a one-night stand.” “I’m not going to have a one-night stand. We’re just dancing.” The bathroom door had opened, and Melissa headed inside. “Whatever. Let’s get more of those fruity shots. Those are really good.” MY stomach wrenched at the memory of the sweet, alcohol-laden mini glasses of hangover. As soon as I got back to Austin, I was doing a cleanse. I fell into the back seat of the ordered car and willed myself not to throw up. I had a stellar rider score, and I intended to keep it that way.