Anyone but Alex (The English Brothers Book 3) (13 page)

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I can’t think about anyone else.

I’ve never felt this way before.

As his eyes adjusted to the pitch-black of the closet, he stepped forward, reaching out his hand. It was rescued by hers, her palm pressing softly against his in the darkness, and he shifted just slightly so that they could lace their fingers together.

The closet smelled of lemon-scented furniture polish and tea rose, and Alex breathed deeply, knowing that it was the smell of heaven
, and when Jessie was gone it would be the smell he searched for his in head to remember a perfect moment.

“Alex,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”

His heart, which was sprinting from his race to the closet, caught for a moment before he pulled her closer.

“Jessie.”

Her palm lighted on his chest, resting over the throbbing of his heart before sliding up to his throat, her fingertips fluttering gently against this skin of his neck as they rose to his cheek. Her palm finally stilled, resting against the warm skin on his face.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, taking a step closer to him so he could feel the shallow raggedness of her breathing against his chest.

She’s nervous too
, he realized, reaching out to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her closer. Dropping her hand, he curled his other arm around her so that they were finally flush, her chest pressing to his, her heart racing with his, her lips waiting for his.

“Five weeks,” he said, breathing in the smell of tea rose and the sweetness of her breath so close to him.

“I’m yours,” she answered, returning the words he’d used at lunch on Tuesday to seal their agreement to spend time together.

The simple words were infinitely more intimate and arousing than the dirtiest, filthiest things that had been whispered into his ear a million times.

“Jess,” he groaned.

B
ending his head swiftly, Alex let his lips land flush and full on hers, parting softly as she opened her mouth. She sighed with pleasure, and he tightened his grip around her as her fingers curled against his cheek with urgency before sliding under his ear to meet her other hand at the back of his neck. They laced there, tightening as he found her tongue, stroking the slick, wet heat with his. Jessie arched her back, a whimper released from her throat. Alex’s hands slipped to her lower back, and he pushed her more firmly against him so that she’d feel how hard he was for her, how much he throbbed behind the thin barrier of his pants, how much wanted her.

She rolled her hips against him, which blew his mind, and he trailed his lips down her throat, brushing them against the hot skin of her neck as she gasped softly.

“Jessie, Jessie,” he murmured, kissing and licking, branding her with his lips as her hands slid into his hair, flexing and releasing against his scalp and telling him how sensitive she was to his touch.

“Kiss me
again,” she panted and he rushed to comply, fiercely covering her mouth with his, finding her tongue again, sucking on it, laving it, sliding against it in a dance he’d done a million times with hundreds of different women.

Except
…

This was different. Completely different.

For the first time in Alex’s life, sharing breath and lips and sighs and touch was somehow sharing something far deeper, far more meaningful than he’d ever experienced before. And inside Alex’s heart, which had ached and throbbed for weeks, the missing piece that was Jessica Winslow slipped into place. He felt it. He knew it. He had no idea what to do about it, but she lived there now, embedded into the very fiber of his being.

The thought was sobering—
absolute in its meaning, which he refused to consider. But he pulled back from Jessie, resting his head on her forehead as their breath mingled in shallow pants between them.

“Who are you seeing tomorrow?” he asked.

“W-What?” she breathed.

“Tomorrow. You
said you couldn’t go riding with Brooks. Who are you seeing?”

“Oh.” She laughed softly, a breathy, happy sound that made A
lex drop his lips to hers again to brush against them with agonizing sweetness. “You.”

“Me?” he
whispered, his lips grazing hers as his mouth formed the sound.

“If you’re free.”

“Instead of Saturday?” he asked.

“
In addition to Saturday.”

He searched his head
, and his heart for a feeling of panic to assault him. He’d seen Jessie on Tuesday and twice today. If he saw her tomorrow
and
Saturday, it meant he’d have spent the week with her. It was an unprecedented amount of time to spend with one woman, and no matter how good it felt to be with Jessie, it made him pause. He waited and waited—her soft, pliant body like perfection in his arms—but the panic didn’t come. He felt, as he had since the moment he’d found Jessica again, nothing but a sharp longing for more, and an intrinsic peace in having her.

“What did you have in mind?”

Her body relaxed instantly in his arms, and she chuckled softly again. “I need a chauffeur. Pick me up at ten tomorrow?”

“At Westerly?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Okay.”

He pulled her a little closer, burying his nose in her hair and surprised by how easy it was to let her into his life, into his heart.

“I
should go back now before anyone notices,” she whispered, and he tightened his grip a little.

“I don’t want to let you go yet.”

“I think closets may be a new fetish for you.”

“Only if you’re in them with me.”

Jessie touched her lips to his before dropping her hands from his neck. She peeked out of the closet for an instant to be sure the coast was clear, and then she was gone.

And Alex realized, with no small measure of bewildermen
t and in a totally different way, that he was gone too.

“
Now
will you tell me where we’re going?”

Jessie looked at Alex in the driver’s seat beside her. He was dressed in jeans and a blue and white button-down shirt under a leather-collared barn jacket. With his dark blond hair and patrician good looks, he was like her own personal Ralph Lauren model, right down to his forest green Jaguar
zooming down her driveway.

“Yes,” she said
, as he turned onto Blueberry Lane. “One of my favorite modern artists, Cort King, lives just south of Stroudsburg, and he gave me permission to visit the studio at his farm today to check out some of his works in progress.”

“Stroudsburg? You want to drive an hour and a half to look at some art
that’s not even finished yet?”

“Yep.
I told you I love traveling,” she teased.

He looked over, unable to keep the goofy, whipped smile from taking over his face. “Fine. I’m at your service.”

“You might even like it, Alex.”

“Doubtful. But I like you
, Jess.”

Jessie
chuckled with surprise. “I like you, too.”

The Winslow’s had stayed at the English’s house until almost nine o’clock last night, lingering over the most beautiful Thanksgiving dinner Jessie had ever experienced. Seated beside Alex—which she suspected had been engineered
by
Alex, as her place card was noticeably askew as though it had been hastily replaced—she held his hand under the table for most of the two hour dinner, learning the textures and contours of his hand: the deep grooves of his love and life lines, the warmth of his palm pressed against hers.

When they got up to leave, Alex had dropped her hand, and Jess had flinched inside, the loss of contact more painful than she expected. As she walked home last night beside her brothers, the temporary nature of
her time with Alex chafed at her. They’d only been re-acquainted for a week, but her feelings for him were growing at an alarming rate. If she didn’t preserve some small part of her heart, being torn from him after Christmas would be excruciating.

Jessica suspected that part of the reason Alex was able to set his normal dating rules aside and spend so much time with her was because her visit was finite. She knew that when she left—no matter how sweet and meaningful their time together—Alex would go back to his old ways,
probably with relief, and she would return to the life she’d left behind. Alex English didn’t do long-term commitment, and she had no right to expect it of him. She reminded herself of this as she glanced over at him again, telling herself that their agreement was for five weeks only, to live in the moment. Nothing would change the fact that he lived in Philadelphia, and her life was in London.

She glanced over at him again, refusing to let sad thoughts steal a moment away from their day together.

“Thanks for driving me, Alex.”

“
My pleasure. You know? I was surprised your brothers weren’t waiting with loaded shotguns when I pulled up.”

“For the record, they do
not
like it that we’re spending time together.”

“You don’t say.”

“I
do
say. But I also say it’s my life to live.”

“I have no idea why you’re taking a chance on me.”

“Yes, you do. You’re important to me. I care about you.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Anyway, it’s only for five weeks, right?”

He glanced over at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw hard. “Right.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I get the feeling your schedule isn’t usually this free. I mean, driving me up to Stroudsburg today at the last minute, and the Christmas Tree Farm tomorrow…”

“I cleared it.”

“What?” she asked, her head whipping to the side, her eyes raking his face to ascertain the truth of this statement. Even though she’d asked to spend time with him, she hadn’t asked for exclusivity, and he’d never actually offered it.

“
When I said I was yours for five weeks, I meant it. Completely.”

“Oh
.” Her heart did somersaults as her mind screamed a warning, forcing her to focus on the words
five weeks
. “I didn’t know for sure.”

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you
, Jess. I can’t be seen with other women and with you at the same time—it wouldn’t be right. So, I won’t date anyone else or be with anyone else until after you go home. I promise.”

“Alex, I never asked
—”

“I know you didn’t. I want it to be this way. I
need
it to be this way.”

His right hand abandoned the wheel to reach for hers. She caught it quickly, pressing his palm to her lips
and closing her eyes as he cupped her cheek.

But a bleak question circled in her head, laying the groundwork for heavy
-heartedness later. How in the world would she find the strength to walk away from him? And once her feet made the journey back across the sea, how long would she have to wait until her heart finally followed?

***

Alex could tell that it had surprised Jessie to learn that he’d curtailed his robust social life for the few weeks she was visiting. It surprised
him
how organic it felt not only to make the changes in his life, but to inform her of them. She was changing all of the rules he’d lived by for years, and it occurred to him to wonder if there was another girl in the world for whom he would have so willingly changed his ways. He couldn’t think of another. No one compared with Jessie. No other girl had ever looked at him as she did. It set her apart. It always would.

For the rest of the drive north, they listened to music and chatted companionably about their brothers. Both one of five, they laughed at shared conundrums and marveled over how similar Barrett and Brooks were.
They re-hashed Preston and Fitz’s college rivalry, Jess sharing that for years the Winslow’s referred to Fitz as “Fucking Fitz” and Christopher had almost slipped and said it at dinner yesterday. Speaking of Christopher, Jessica reconfirmed what Alex already knew: that Chris, who was closest in age to Jess, was the most sensitive and thoughtful of the bunch, while Cameron was the most hot-headed. Jessica asked who Alex was closest to, and he answered honestly that although he loved all of his brothers equally, it was Weston, more and more, to whom Alex felt closest.

“What about Stratton?” asked Jessie. “He seems mysterious.”

Alex took a deep breath. “Strat’s… different.”

“How so?”

“He’s good looking, right?”

“I’d be com
fortable saying he’s the second best-looking English brother.”

Alex winked at her, nodding in thanks.

“Barrett’s just
so hot
,” she added.

“
What
?” he demanded, whipping his head to face her.