The Loneliest Alpha (The MacKellen Alphas) (10 page)

Another
truck roared to life, this one she recognized as Gavin’s. It pulled away and
she had to resist going to the window to watch him leave. 

Everything
grew quiet again except for the small sounds of the house. The ticking of
clocks here and there, the soft whirr of the refrigerator. This was the first
time Alicia was out of her room without a blindfold.

She
was not going to waste her time, she decided, and headed for the stairs going
straight to Gavin MacKellen’s room.

CHAPTER 7

After
an excruciatingly long and emotionally draining day, Gavin stepped inside his
home and leaned his great weight back against the door.

A boy
was dead. Fourteen-year-old Anthony Clipton. Gavin had spent all day talking to
the family trying to ease the anxiety among pack members. No easy task.
Everyone was keeping their children under tight wraps now, and more than a few
women slapped him across the face today.

He
rubbed the flesh. Even though the ache had vanished, he could still feel the
imprint they’d left. That imprint went much deeper than skin deep. Two children
were dead.

And both
cases were related.

Related
not because they were both children, but because, according to Anthony’s
parents, Emma was his girlfriend. A little young to be a real ‘couple’, or at
least he thought so. Then again, he remembered crushing hard on a girl back
when he was only thirteen and full of hormones. Gavin could even remember his
brother Hart dating a girl when he was that young. The dating aspect consisted
of hand-holding, giggling, and maybe some dry-mouthed pecks on the lips.

The
fact that the kids were close and both died within a day of each other was not
lost on anybody especially him and Hart. Gavin had his own theories as to what
happened and none of them were good. Either way, they’d find the killer. And he
or she would face the wrath of the entire pack.

Right
now though, they only had one lead and that was Marcus Graham. He’d found the
body of Emma on his patrol which could very well be the truth. Or he could have
killed her. Gavin knew firsthand the kind of sickness that wrestled inside
Marcus.

A
weight crouched on Gavin’s shoulders like a damn elephant. His muscles
protested, contorted, and twisted in agony at the pressure. No amount of
shoulder rolling would alleviate that kind of ache.

He
took a deep breath and that’s when he smelled it—food. A vicious grumble came
from his stomach and he looked down at it wondering when the last time he ate
was. God, he couldn’t even remember. A day or two, maybe.

He
followed the smell into the darkened kitchen. It was late and Alicia would be
in bed by now. Jo had kept guard all day and he’d brought in his brother,
Connor, to take watch at night. Gavin didn’t like wasting good manpower on
making sure she stayed in the house, but he couldn’t risk losing her. No way,
not yet. He definitely needed more time, like say, a few years maybe.

He
followed the smells but didn’t find any golden plates of food lying about.
After he popped open the fridge though he could have died. Leftover spaghetti
and meatballs. She’d cooked.

He
snatched it, tore off the lid and dug in the drawer for a fork. He didn’t even
give a shit if she poisoned him. It smelled like heaven and his mouth watered.
He dug in with big forkfuls, stuffing his gullet.

Delicious
tastes exploded on his tongue and he slammed his eyes shut to take it all in.
This wasn’t some jar sauce, she’d cooked it. Homemade. Homemade meatballs. Holy
hell, he loved this woman.

He
finished it, then chugged down a glass of milk with it all.

Finished,
he cleaned his mess up. The pain in his shoulders didn’t feel as intense now,
though his heart still hurt to think about the two dead pack members.

He
stood in the quiet kitchen with nothing else to do but go upstairs. But he
found himself lingering, unable to move forward. His heart started beating
faster just in anticipation of hearing her voice, possibly seeing her.

Alicia
had even more strength than he’d first given her credit for. She was a damn
wildcat. Hell, she’d surprised the shit out of him when she’d leaped onto his
back like a damn flying squirrel. His cock thickened at the thought. God, she’d
turned him on and just remembering it brought back flashes of heat.

She
weighed hardly nothing. The way she’d straddled him and taken charge like that
had made his cock beat against his zipper trying to get free. He’d ached to
turn around so she could straddle his hips, so he could gaze up at her
beautiful face and breasts. He wanted that image of what she looked like
astride him to be a permanent memory in his mind. For when she said no. Then at
least he’d have that memory to carry him on.

Why
was he even doing this to himself? God, he knew it was going to kill him.
Already, she was burrowing her way under his skin. He just hoped he’d be able
to shake her out when the time came for it.

She
was everything he could ever hope for in a good woman—all fire and intelligence
and strength and creativity…and hell, she
cooked
. Fuck. He was screwed.
Halfway in love with a woman who didn’t even know the horror of his face.

She’d
say no to him at the end of the month. No doubt about it. He knew it; hell,
everyone knew it. She was too beautiful. Everything he wasn’t.

But a
man could dream, and he planned to use his time with her like he was getting a
one-stop visit to heaven. He’d memorize everything and maybe, just maybe, she’d
let him touch her. What a man would do for a kiss from those sexy little lips.
She had the perfect little bow mouth with lips not too plump but naturally
sexy.

Hands
curling into fists, his eyes closed as his head fell back. The memory came. Oh
god. He gulped over the stone-like lump in his throat. He’d lost control with
her, never even seen it coming.

The
way she stuck her hand in his hair had had his balls pulling tight and his
teeth baring. He’d wanted to flip them over, shove their jeans down, and plant
his cock deep inside her, taking her, shoving her face into the ground until
she cried out his name and came around him.

But
he couldn’t do that. She’d never accept him, and he’d never rut over her like
an animal. Not a woman like her. A woman like her needed soft satin sheets, red
candles and jazzy music.

He
winced, thinking about his own bedroom. The cotton sheets were the same ones he’d
used for probably eight years, maybe longer. His bed didn’t even have a frame,
just a box spring and mattress sitting on top of it.

Fuck,
and she’d been in there today. Seen his lifestyle. Wasn’t like he didn’t have
the money to buy stuff, because he did. But he didn’t know what to buy, where
to go to get it, and frankly, he didn’t give a shit. None of that stuff
mattered to him. He lived his life just fine how it was. He lived alone and had
been in this same house since his parents died more than twenty years ago.

He’d
never given much thought to changing the place, fixin’ it up or some shit. Now
it seemed like he could hardly get it out of his mind. His simple things made
him feel inadequate.

Fuckin’
hell. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he pictured the spare bedroom he had her
in. It was probably more barren than his bedroom. He’d have to fix that. She
deserved some color, some soft sheets, and anything else she could want. Soft
soaps and sweet smelling shampoos, maybe. ’Course she already smelled so damned
sweet. Like a hot, sexy woman. Did that even have a scent? It must, because it
surrounded her, making him hard and hungry like he hadn’t fucked in years.

Just
thinking about her scent brought it back to memory like a punch to the face,
knocking him back with it. He’d buried his face in her hair. It’d been like
smelling perfection. All sweet smelling woman lying beneath him, quivering.

Hell,
had she really been trembling or had he just imagined that?

Yeah,
she had.

Fuck.
What did that mean?

He
knew and it scared the shit out of him.

His
hand trembled as he brushed his hat-flattened hair back to make it stand back
up again.

It
meant she’d responded to him. Or, at least, her body did. He’d tried to keep
his errant cock from digging into her pert ass, but then she’d lifted herself
up and done it. She’d ground that perfect ass against his cock and it’d taken
every ounce of control he had not to take her there.

Not
to give in.

She’d
begged him to kiss her.

Fuck.

Aside
from wanting to slam into her wet body, he couldn’t remember ever,
ever
wanting to do something so badly. He’d shaken with the need to answer her. Only
one thing had kept him from doing just what they both wanted—his face.

No
way could he kiss her and not show her his face. He hadn’t wanted to ruin the
moment. Of course, he’d done it accidentally anyway by pissing her off.

Damn,
but he was in some shit.

Maybe
if she’d been blindfolded he could have kissed her. Still, he’d have to tie her
up. She was too smart. She’d tried to work free the blindfold mid-kiss and ruin
everything.

He
bit his lip then ran his tongue over the spot wondering about her mouth, about
the things he’d like to put in her mouth, about how those soft, wicked lips
would feel kissing his body.

Fuuuuck.

She
already had him by the balls. He was screwed.

His
gaze flew to the clock and he winced. He couldn’t stay down here forever. With
that in mind, he made his way upstairs. He’d made it halfway up when he heard water
kick on. Arousal flooded his blood making it pump. She was in the shower and
not the one in her bedroom but in his.

He
went to the top of the landing and paused. All he could picture was wet, smooth
skin and beautiful dips and curves. What would her breasts look like? Were her
nipples little and pert or womanly?

Damn.
His cock punched his zipper. He needed to spend some of his own time in a cold damn
shower, let out some tension in his balls before he exploded.

Why
was she in his shower?

Better
question, what did he do now? He wanted to crash and pass the fuck out, but there
was a sexy woman in his shower and he’d forgotten about the door. It hung half
way open, the bottom half of it had a jagged hole large enough for a small
person to climb through.

He’d
have to get that fixed, ASAP. As in tomorrow morning, because no way could he
sleeping knowing the curious Alicia Clarkson might worm her way through that
hole just to see his face.

He
checked the lighting in the hall to find it sufficiently dark to lurk. Maybe he
should go for a quick run and come back. By then she should be done unless she
was one of those women who showered until her skin pruned and skin turned as
bright as a strawberry.

He
licked his lips at the image of her in nothing but pink skin and almost
groaned. Nothing he could do would make his cock go down. Fuck, but this was
all her fault. He hadn’t been a hormonal disaster before. Not that he’d felt
her body on his, been on hers, felt pleasure warm her skin. There was no
forgetting it. Ever. The woman would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Then
the shower shut off and he stiffened, backing into the corner of the hallway,
the darkest part of it where she wouldn’t be able to spot him.

He
heard movement and the creak from the bathroom door opening.

“Damn,
it’s cold in here,” she whispered. Gavin made a mental note to fix that ASAP as
well. He knew the house needed renovations but now he regretted never doing
them. She didn’t deserve his cold house and ice-cold floor.

Her
quick steps sounded like she was hopping on the tips of her feet. The bedroom
door opened and it took everything in him not suck in a breath.

She
stuck her head out of the bedroom door, looking left and right. He tensed,
trying to appear invisible. Then her head jerked left again and she cried out.

Guess
his hiding spot wasn’t as great as he thought.

“What
are you doing here?” she asked, panicked. Wet hair was plastered to her skin
and water dripped over round, finely-boned shoulders. So sweet.

“This
is my house and that is my bedroom. Better question is, what are you doing in
my bedroom showering?” She had one of his towels wrapped around her and
disappointment slammed into him so hard he grimaced. He’d give his life savings
away for her to show him her body, every luscious, warm inch.

Cock’s
not going down with that attitude, idiot.

“Oh,
yeah.” She ducked her head as a lovely blush covered her cheeks. “My shower
sucks. It takes forever for the water to heat up and by time it does, it’s like
the tank’s empty or something. I get about five minutes of hot water. Yours is
closer to the water heater so I thought I’d try it. Plus, I didn’t think you
were coming home.”