The moment they finished breakfast, Alexander moved.
One second, Gie was reaching for her coffee—
The next, she was in the air, lifted effortlessly into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
A startled gasp escaped her. "Alexander—"
But he was already pressing her onto the kitchen counter, his lips crushing against hers, his hands firm on her hips, pinning her in place.
Her mind blanked.
The cool surface of the marble contrasted against the heat of his body, the warmth of his hands burning through his shirt she was still wearing.
And then—
Then he pulled back slightly, his gray eyes dark, filled with something dangerous.
"You have no idea," he murmured, his fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, lifting it just enough to expose her thighs,
"How fucking sexy you look in my shirt."
Her breath hitched.
His fingers trailed along her bare skin, teasing, possessive, like he was memorizing every inch of her.
"You walking around my penthouse in this?" he rasped.
"With nothing underneath?"
His fingers brushed over her entrance, finding her already wet, slick, desperate.
A slow smirk curved his lips.
"Already dripping for me, sweetheart?"
Gie bit her lip, arching against his touch, her body betraying her.
He dragged a single finger through her folds, teasing, barely applying pressure, making her whimper.
"I should bend you over this counter," he murmured.
"Push this shirt up and take you right here. Just like this."
Her body shuddered.
She couldn't speak.
Couldn't breathe.
But her hips rocked forward, chasing his touch, her legs tightening around his waist.
"Say yes, Gie," he whispered against her lips.
"Say you want it."
"Yes," she gasped. "Yes—please."
That was all he needed.
In an instant, she was spun around, her stomach pressed against the cold marble, her hands gripping the counter.
She barely had time to process the shift before she felt—
The thick, heavy press of him at her entrance.
Her breath hitched sharply.
And then he pushed in.
Slow.
Deep.
Stretching her wide, filling her so completely she felt it in her stomach.
A sharp moan tore from her throat, her fingers clenching against the cold stone, her body arching, desperate for more.
"Fucking perfect," Alexander groaned, his hands gripping her waist tightly, his breath ragged against her ear.
"You take me so well, sweetheart."
His pace was torturous at first, deep, slow thrusts, making her feel every inch, every throb of him inside her.
Her mind spun, her vision blurring, her entire body hypersensitive to every movement.
Then—
Then he snapped his hips forward, slamming into her.
Gie cried out, the force of it pushing her against the counter, the impact sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.
"You like this, don't you?" he growled, his hands tightening on her hips, his thrusts picking up speed.
"You like being fucked right here, bent over my counter, dripping all over me."
She sobbed, nodding frantically, her body rocking with his movements, chasing every hard, deep stroke.
"Yes—yes!"
His hands slid up her back, fisting the fabric of his shirt that she still wore, pulling it up just enough to expose the curve of her spine.
"You're mine," he murmured against her shoulder, biting down, marking her.
"This body is mine. Say it."
She was too far gone.
Too overwhelmed, too desperate for more, too lost in the feel of him destroying her.
"Yours," she gasped.
"All yours, Alexander—fuck—"
Her climax hit like a tidal wave, crashing over her so hard she screamed, her body clenching down around him, dragging him deeper, pulling him with her.
A deep, broken groan ripped from his throat as he followed, his hips slamming into her one last time, his release filling her completely, hot, thick, claiming her.
They stayed there, panting, bodies still trembling, their skin slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in sync.
And as he leaned down, pressing one last kiss against the back of her neck—
Gie knew.
She was completely, utterly ruined for anyone else.
The days blurred together in a haze of heat, sweat, and endless pleasure.
They didn't leave the penthouse. Didn't need to.
It became a cycle of indulgence—
Wake up wrapped in each other.
Eat whatever Alexander cooked.
Take long, steamy showers that always ended with him pressing her against the glass, taking her under the spray.
Then—
Lose themselves all over again.
Every surface of his penthouse became their playground.
The bed. The kitchen counter. The sofa. The shower. Even the floor when they couldn't make it to a proper spot.
She wasn't sure how many times he had taken her.
How many times she had climbed on top of him, letting him watch as she rode him with reckless abandon.
How many times she had screamed his name as he pinned her down, forcing her to take every inch of him.
She was completely addicted.
To the way he held her down, controlled her, unraveled her with his hands, his mouth, his filthy words.
To the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
To him.
And she knew—
This wasn't just lust anymore.
This was dangerous.
She was lying on his chest, her body completely spent, his hand tracing lazy circles on her back when her phone vibrated.
She barely registered it at first, too blissed out to care.
But then—
It vibrated again.
And again.
She groaned, reaching blindly for it, expecting a work email or some spam call.
But when she saw the caller ID—
Alina.
Her stomach dropped.
She sat up abruptly, eyes widening as she realized—
She hadn't gone home in days.
She had completely disappeared, not answering texts, not checking in.
Her sister must be worried sick.
She pressed the answer button, bracing herself.
"Where the hell have you been?" Alina's voice was a mix of relief and exasperation.
Gie winced. "I—uh—"
"Oh my God, are you dead? Did you get kidnapped?"
"I'm fine!" she rushed out. "I just—"
She glanced at Alexander, who was lying there, propped up on his elbow, watching her with an amused smirk.
"I got caught up with work," she lied.
Silence.
Then—
"Bullshit."
Gie groaned.
"I swear to God, Gie, if I find out you've been holed up somewhere with Alexander Millers forgetting you have a sister, I'm going to lose it."
Her face combusted.
"I have not—"
"Get your ass home. Now."
The call ended abruptly.
She stared at her phone, her heart still pounding.
And when she looked back at Alexander—
He was still watching her, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Busted?" he murmured.
She huffed, throwing a pillow at him.
"I need to go home."
His smirk faded slightly, something unreadable flickering across his eyes.
But he just nodded, reaching for his phone.
"I'll take you home."
Her chest tightened.
Because this was it.
The end of their bubble of lust, of indulgence, of whatever the hell this was.
And she wasn't sure—
If she was ready to leave it behind.