Caught Up: With An Alpha Billionaire (A BWWM Romance) (A Love Like No Other Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

up two flights of steps and all I get is a ‘thanks’?” He demanded, his breath more even now. His face was inscrutable, and I was beginning to think he was a person that was impossible to read. Maybe that’s why he was so successful.
    “Uh, sorry,” I said, finally meeting his eyes. “Do you want a drink, or something?” I hoped like hell he declined, because I did not want him in my apartment. My brain screamed “no, no, no” as I heard his answer.
    “Sure. Thanks,” he said, waiting on me to open the door.
    I repressed a sigh. I unlocked the door and we both went inside, me still hobbling, him assuming power over the whole room as soon as he entered.
    He closed the door behind him. “I can get my own water,” he said, and headed towards the kitchen.
    “I can get it,” I protested. He stopped and raised his eyebrows, and looked pointedly at my injured ankle.
    “Okay,” I said, again giving over to him. I limped to an easy chair and lowered myself down.
    My apartment was sprawling, with a ton of natural light and overstuffed, comfortable furniture. I didn’t have much in the way of artwork or decoration, since I wasn’t much of a decorator, and I was usually busy with work. Plus, Aaron had taken the few posters we’d put up together, and I’d ripped any pictures of us out of frames and burned them in a trashcan.
    I could hear the refrigerator opening, ice clinking, and water running, then Alex came back out of the kitchen with two glasses of ice water. He held one out to me and took a drink of his own.
    “Thanks,” I said, gratefully taking a sip.
    “How does your ankle look?” He asked.
    I looked down at my foot, still in its shoe. “Okay, I guess.”
    “How do you know if you haven’t even looked?” He demanded, and grabbed the coffee table, pulling it closer to the chair.
    He put his water down and then perched himself on the edge of the table. He grabbed my foot and propped it up on his knee.
    “No!” I said. The last thing in the world I wanted was for this man to take off my smelly running shoe and sweaty sock and see for himself that I hadn’t had a spring pedicure yet. I tried to snatch my foot away, but he was too quick. He caught my calf between his strong hands, and I was beyond grateful that I’d shaved that morning. My dark skin glowed satiny with a leftover sheen of sweat.
    “Let me look,” he said, pulling off my shoe without asking permission. “I played football in college and had quite a few bad ankle sprains,” he said, turning my foot back and forth, looking at where my ankle was now starting to swell above my short running sock.
    “Really,” I said, dying. “You don’t need to do this, I really appreciate your help, but I can take it from here. This is not part of the attorney-client relationship.”
    He didn’t respond, but instead he picked up his water glass and held the smooth, cold surface against my swelling ankle. I gasped from the cold.
    “You need to get ice on it,” he said, rubbing the glass against my skin. I could barely believe it, but the way he held my foot and massaged the cold into it was almost sensual.
    I could feel heat starting to pool in the pit of my stomach, arousal pricking my crotch. I just watched him as he worked the glass, mesmerized by the tinkling ice and cold of the surface.
    He put the glass down and then started gently massaging with his fingers. First, I felt pain, but then the joint started to warm and I felt some tightness release. But as loose as my ankle was getting, my skin began to feel tighter and hotter, my breath becoming shallower.
    Was he trying to seduce me by fixing my stupid sprained ankle?
    If he was, it was working. I watched his fingers work and imagined them rubbing my calves, my thighs, and higher…
    And then he was doing it. His hands traveled up my legs to squeeze my inner thighs, and my breath caught in my throat.
    “What are you doing? I’m pretty sure it was just my ankle that was the