Your Dad will do

Stay

The second the car door closed behind us, slamming out the noises of the city street, I thought I might actually spontaneously combust from mortification. Here I was, stuffed into the plush leather interior of Alexander Greywood's utterly swanky town car that probably cost more than my entire life's savings. And I'd just gone full-on Desperate Housewife, snogging him senseless like a deranged alleycat.

"So, Ruby," he rumbled in that uncivilized baritone. "Tell me a bit about yourself, beyond the unhappy circumstances that brought us together tonight."

I actually heard the pathetic whimpering sound that escaped my strangled throat. Way to remind a girl of her freshly gutted romantic life there, Alexander! Clearing the massive lump of humiliation from my vocal cords, I aimed for a casual shrug that probably looked more like a panicked twitch.

"Well, um, I was working as a junior marketing coordinator at Kingsley Advertising," I began, mentally tacking on the hasty 'before tonight's epic meltdown rendered me a slobbering, snogging she-beast in desperate need of being permanently sewn into a nun's habit.'

Alexander's molten chocolate eyes crinkled becomingly at the corners as he made a 'go on' gesture with one large, masculine hand. Those deft fingers were making me have practically x-rated thoughts about all the insanely talented things he could do with them. Down girl! I gave myself a mental kick to refocus.

"I was hoping to start my own boutique agency someday," I confessed. "Jared and I were..." Crap, saying the douchecanoe's name aloud suddenly made my throat seize as a tidal wave of misery threatened to pull me under anew. Wonderful, I'd managed to massively over-share and then instantly reduced myself to a trembling wreck in the span of two minutes flat. Stellar first impression!

But then, before I could totally decompress into a puddle of tears and snot on his no-doubt obscenely expensive leather upholstery, Alexander did the strangest thing. His big, warm hand enveloped my own in a gentle squeeze, and I honest-to-God nearly swallowed my tongue at the electrifying contact.

"I'm so sorry, Ruby," he intoned sorrowfully, and those damn bedroom eyes of his were so sincere and full of compassion I thought I might liquefy into a pitiful goo right there. "Nobody deserves to have their dreams and trust shattered like that by someone they love. Jared was a damn fool to take you for granted."

Well. If I hadn't already combusted into a pile of blushing ashes, I'm pretty sure those words would have done me in. Was Alexander Greywood, powerful CEO father of the douchelord who'd cheated on me, actually, properly feeling sorry for me? And not in that weird, uncomfortable 'I'm so awkward around crying drunks' way, but like...he genuinely meant it?

This all had to just be some crazed psychological break from reality, right? Men like Alexander - handsome, mature, wealthy, with that sexy silvering at his temples - they didn't waste their time playing therapist to emotional wreckages like me. Jared would sooner take up celebibacy than sully the family name by getting his dad involved with an unstable ex.

Except...the longer Alexander's searching gaze lingered on me, dark eyes swirling with flashes of heat and concern and unmistakable masculine appreciation, the more I started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, his interest wasn't entirely wholesome here. Call me crazy, but I could have sworn that massive retracting hand of his brushed deliberately over the thin cotton of my skirt.

The temperature in the posh town car had gone from a casual summer's day to roughly the scorching depths of the earth's core. I could feel the sizzling heat of Alexander's gaze lingering over me like a physical caress as the driver navigated us through the city's winding streets. Every shift of those strong, capable hands gripping the steering wheel made me shamelessly imagine them roving over my body instead. Which...okay, wow, these were officially the thirstiest thoughts I'd ever entertained about any boyfriend's father, let alone my slimeball ex's daddy dearest.

But could you blame me? The man radiated a gravitational pull of simmering attractiveness and old-world masculinity that had me feeling deliriously giddy. Like a teenager catching her first glimpse of a shirtless Zac Efron or something. Alexander hadn't so much as spoken a word since our heated exchange, that sinful mouth staying resolutely closed as he pretended an air of polite disinterest. Yet I could sense the restrained intensity simmering just beneath that sophisticated surface, ready to detonate at the slightest spark.

Unbidden, my eyes traced over the sharp, refined angles of his face, lingering on those sculptural cheekbones and the attractive graying at his tousled hairline. Sharply intelligent eyes stayed focused on the road ahead, utterly impassive except for the slightest upward twitch at the corner of that frankly immoral mouth. The secret, masculine smirk of a man who knew good and well the devastating effect he was having.

The burning desire to reach out and touch him, to test whether the smattering of silver chest hair hinted at by the open vee of his crisp dress shirt was as silkenly soft as it looked, almost overwhelmed me. My palms were damp, breath coming in shallow little pants just from sitting in smoldering proximity to Alexander Greywood.

We somehow made it up to Alexander's hotel suite, though I barely registered the journey thanks to the whiskey bubbles fizzling through my veins. One minute I was surrounded by the modern opulence of the lobby, and the next Alexander was ushering me through an ornate wooden door into what could only be described as palatial accommodations.

"Oh...wow," I murmured dazedly, slowly turning in a circle as I tried to absorb the sheer grandeur.

It was like being transported onto the luxurious setting of a old Hollywood movie. Plush chaise lounges, marble accents, and what looked like original artworks adorned the spacious common area. Through an arched doorway, I could glimpse a California King bed buried under a mountain of sumptuous linens and pillows.

"This is...a lot," I laughed lightly, gesturing around at the decadently appointed suite.

"Mmm, I do prefer my creature comforts," Alexander's rich voice curled around me from where he stood just inside the entrance.

I turned to find him watching me with an inscrutable expression, though his eyes were hooded and glittering with something I couldn't quite place. My breath hitched as he slowly removed his suit jacket, rolling his broad shoulders in an unconsciously sensual manner.

"So...fancy digs for such a powerful CEO," I joked, aiming for nonchalance despite the frisson of awareness zinging through me. "Do you always travel in such sybaritic style, Mr. Greywood?"

The right corner of his sculptured mouth kicked up in a half-smirk. "Alexander, please. And only when the occasion calls for..." he paused, raking an scorchingly heated gaze over my body, "...certain indulgences."

The heated look and his gravelly emphasis sent a shiver of pure molten silk ricocheting from my head to my toes.

Alexander began strolling unhurriedly toward me, a prowling male force of nature. I stood frozen, feeling simultaneously thrilled and terrified, an erratic pounding in my chest.

"You look ethereal in this light, Ruby," he murmured in voiced-burnished sin.

His fingertips trailed up my bare arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until he was cradling my jaw with feather-light pressure. My eyelids fluttered helplessly closed as his mouth hovered an inch from mine.

"I've liked you, Ruby. Very much so," His words were a gravelly caress, making my core clench with unexpected, molten arousal.

"I... I feel the same way about you too... Alexander." Was this really happening? Was Alexander Greywood, wealthy CEO extraordinaire and father of my lying ex, actively seducing me right now?

"Are you going to f*ck me?"

"I want to," That calloused thumb caressed my bottom lip. "And I'm going to."

And with that searing first brush of his lips on mine, I found myself completely powerless to resist getting utterly, irrevocably lost in the intoxicating fantasy...