Attraction by T. C. Anthony Read Free Book Online Page A

expected.
    “Eva, I called Alexander. I’ve experienced first hand what Michael practices and when I told Marcus—we feared for your safety, we didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry, but—”
    I ripped myself away from her hold feeling utter betrayal and shame. Betrayed by my best and only friend and shameful that they all knew what I had subjected myself to.
    I gasped as I brought Alexander into focus. He was here—in person, in the flesh—and he had just held me in his arms as I had so longed to be held.
    My knees weakened and began to buckle, when my breath ceased to escape my lips as the overwhelming emotions sent me crashing to the blacktop.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Alexander’s sultry hands massaged my thighs as I slept.
    His fingers traveled up to my abdomen, motioning softly in circles around my belly button, tickling my skin. The warmth of his skin triggered a profound moan from deep within my chest. I had once longed for his sensual touch and pined for his physical nearness, but this was more than that; my attraction was illogical and irrational, but it was all encompassing. I would give up my soul to the Devil if knew that I would remain in his hold forever.
    My eyes fluttered open as his phantom fingers had reached my hardened nipples. The curtains were still pulled in my room, concealing the sunlight. My head pounded and eyes burned as I hunted for Alexander in every square inch of my room.
    But he was nowhere to be found; he had gone.
    I sat myself up and curled my knees to my chest. My physical pain was nothing compared to the pain I was feeling emotionally. I was infatuated. And the emptiness of that infatuation was torturous.
    I had to medicate. I wouldn’t make it through a single moment of the day if I didn’t take control of the angst that possessed me. At least that I could control. My heart, on the other hand—there were no medications to cure my ailing heart.
    I sluggishly turned, letting my legs hang off of the side of the bed, when I noticed a folded letter sitting on my nightstand.
    The front flap had writing on it.
    Taking it with a shaky hand, I brought it close to me so I could only view the flap that read: EVANGELINE.
    The adrenaline began rushing through me, and my body was in “flight or fight” mode. I was ready and willing to do either or both: take flight to conquest my love, wherever he may have gone, and/or fight to the death to make sure that when I did find him I would never let him go for a second.
    I braced myself as I opened the note, prepared to expect the worst. But what I found was the complete opposite; the letter simply read, Come downstairs!
    They were three very simple words, but they defeated my strength and plowed through my courage; he was still here, and I had to face him!
    I ran clumsily into the bathroom and readied myself; I couldn’t let him see the hot mess that was me at the moment. I tried to quickly make myself up. I tied my long black hair into a messy bun and put on some light foundation and blush so that I didn’t look so sunken and drained. And after applying a little lip gloss, I slipped on a hip-hugging long-sleeved dress, making sure to cover any or as many of my bruises as I could. I sauntered down the stairs wondering where he would be waiting.
    I heard a clatter in the kitchen, but it was the sweet aroma of baking batter that took me back to his apartment and his Belgian waffles. The saliva built up in my mouth, but the hunger wasn’t for food; it was for the chef himself.
    I entered the kitchen and, as expected, he was in fact making breakfast. There was a spread on the table fit for royalty, but the king was also the cook!
    I stood quietly, taking in the vision of Alexander wearing only his gray slacks. He was facing the stove, and I felt hypnotized as his muscles tightened on his arms and shoulders and his bare back flexed with every movement he made. He was divine! There wasn’t the slightest imperfection in his anatomy.
    I swallowed my