Page 107 of Collide

I close the distance between us, lifting his face with my hands, my fingers brushing against the stubble along his jaw. His eyes darken as he takes me in, but he doesn’t pull away.

Neither do I.

I kiss him. Softly, tentatively, like I’m testing the weight of something fragile.

His breath stutters, and then he’s pulling me into his lap, his hands gripping my waist as if anchoring himself to me. My fingers slide into his damp hair, and for one stolen moment, everything else fades.

It’s him and me. And the undeniable pull between us.

With a sudden surge of emotion, I push him down onto the bed, breaking the kiss. His back meets the mattress, his gaze locked onto mine, startled but intrigued.

“Don’t ever lie to me again, Alex.” My voice is firm, steady, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

His chest heaves, his lips slightly parted, but he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t try to explain.

Because we both know the truth—I can’t unfeel what I felt. I can’t rewrite the moments that made me believe in him, that made me care. And that might be the worst part of all.

No more lies. No more chances.

I repeat the words, letting them settle between us like a final warning.

Something flickers in his expression—understanding, maybe even relief. Then, a slow, genuine smile tugs at his lips, breaking through the weight of everything unspoken.

And when I lean back down, pressing my lips to his again, he meets me there, without hesitation, without pretense.

I’m thankful that when the food arrives, Riley is still asleep in her room. Alex and I wheel the trolley into mine and close the door behind us.

While we eat, he talks about his show, Alex finds it amusing that I’ve somehow managed to avoid watching it. And judging Riley’s reaction, she’s clearly a fan. I've never been much of a TV person, though I used to enjoy movie nights with my mom and Jack, especially adaptations of books I’d read.

I learn he’s been acting for most of his life, starting out as a child actor in Sweden before breaking into the U.S. market, initially as a model, which makes sense, because he’s impossibly handsome. But then, his big break and success in other roles followed.

The remnants of breakfast lie scattered across the room service tray, the rich aroma of coffee still lingering in the air.

But I barely register any of it. Because Alex is watching me, his eyes fixed on mine as we lie in bed together side by side.

His gaze is heavy, filled with something that coils low in my stomach, sending a ripple of anticipation through me.

“You’re staring.” I try to sound unaffected.

“You’re beautiful,” he counters, his voice smooth and certain.

Heat creeps up my neck, a blush burning beneath my skin. I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t let me look away. Instead, Alex leans forward, brushing a lingering kiss along my jaw, trailing slowly down the sensitive slope of my throat. A soft sigh escapes me before I can stop it, betraying my anticipation.

He eases me onto my back, his weight pressing deliciously into me, warm and solid. His fingertips skate along my thigh, featherlight, teasing, sending electric shivers dancing through my limbs.

“So soft,” he breathes.

I tense beneath him, nerves and curiosity mixing into something potent, irresistible.

“Alex…” My voice hitches, breathless and uncertain.

“Mmm, I’m still hungry,” he growls wickedly, as though he didn’t just demolish a towering stack of pancakes and enough sausages to feed an army.

His lips descend again, mapping a path downward, slow and deliberate, tracing the dip of my collarbone, the swell of my chest, the soft curve of my body. His hands are already slippingcheekily beneath the fabric of my robe, the material whispering against my skin.

A rush of nerves floods through me, tangled up in excitement, anticipation, a thousand feelings I can’t name. Alex pauses, his fingertips pressing slightly harder into my skin, reassuring and possessive.

“Let me taste that sweet pussy,” he murmurs against my skin, the words warm along my hip, sending another wave of heat crashing through my veins.