The Promotion

Chapter Forty-Five

The cool breeze and soft birdsong drifted through the open window, slipping into the room like a quiet invitation to wake. My chest rose and fell slowly, steady and calm, as though my body had found a rhythm of its own—gentle, unhurried. Almost like a love song playing just beneath the surface.

Sunlight crept in next, spilling across the room in a golden wash. It brushed against my closed eyelids, coaxing them open.

And there he was.

Alexander lay beside me, already awake, watching me with an intensity that made my breath hitch the moment our eyes met. His hair was deliciously messy, dark curls falling wherever they pleased, and that sleepy, crooked smile—the one that always made my heart forget how to beat properly—rested effortlessly on his lips.

My body was pressed flush against his, like we'd been shaped together in the night and never quite separated. My fingers moved instinctively, tracing slow, lazy lines across his chest. The warmth of his skin beneath my touch sent memories rushing back—last night replaying itself in vivid fragments that made my lips part softly.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Alexander murmured, his voice rough with sleep as his arm tightened around me, pulling me impossibly closer.

"Good morning," I whispered back, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his chest.

He inhaled sharply at the contact, a quiet shudder rippling through him. I felt it immediately—the tension beneath his relaxed exterior, the way his body reacted to even the smallest touch. He wanted me. The knowledge sent a spark straight through me.

I laughed quietly, shaking my head as I tried—and failed—not to imagine repeating every sinful second of the night before.

"What's funny?" he asked, brows lifting in curiosity.

"Nothing," I replied softly, meeting his gaze. "Just thinking about how lucky I am... having you as my fiancé."

His eyes darkened instantly.

Before I could react, he shifted, pulling me fully on top of him in one smooth movement. We were still bare beneath the sheets, skin to skin, and suddenly I was acutely aware of every inch of him—his warmth, his strength, the way our bodies fit together like they were always meant to.

My hair spilled forward, brushing against his chest as I looked down at him. He reached up, gently tucking a strand behind my ear, his fingers lingering just long enough to send that familiar jolt through me. It never failed. One simple touch, and my body responded like it had been waiting for his permission.

As much as I wanted to stay like this forever, reality tugged at the edges of my mind.

"We should probably get ready," I said reluctantly. "We have work."

Alexander glanced toward the bedside clock, then back at me, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across his face.

"We've got time," he said smoothly. "Lily can handle things for a bit. If she needs us, she'll call."

I should've argued.

Instead, I leaned down and kissed him.

At first it was slow, unhurried—our lips brushing softly, teasing. But Alexander never did have much patience when it came to me. His restraint snapped, and suddenly his mouth was claiming mine with hunger, his tongue slipping past my lips as if he needed to taste me properly.

Heat rushed through me, sharp and intoxicating. My body arched instinctively toward his as the kiss deepened, both of us moving together like last night had never ended.

⸻

Eventually—after far too much time spent trying and failing to behave—we managed to pull ourselves together and head downstairs.