A Week Ago.
It was maddening how a man could be confusing, dangerous, enigmatic and yet so beautiful.
Alexa lustfully stared at Christopher as he sat on her bed, her foot on his knee, his golden sun-kissed hair falling over his eyes as he delicately tendered to her foot.
His touch was gentle, and his face taut with a frown — more of a strain than a frown, showing how deliberately gentle he was trying to be.
But Christopher Vice wasn't gentle. Nothing about his 6"4 mass of body was. Dangerous was a more befitting word for him, but even that didn't come close to who he was.
Seeing him this out character, Alexa fought the urge in her tingling fingers to smoothen those crease lines sitting between his brows, and drive her hand into his gold fluff of hair.
With deliberate care, he applied a new coat of ointment around her ankle, and wrapped a crepe bandage around it.
"There it is. All nice and wrapped."