The Loneliest Alpha (The MacKellen Alphas) (13 page)

It
took a lot of balls to stand up to pack’s lieutenants and then your own alpha
like Alicia did, and it had been a selfless act. If that didn’t just cinch the
deal for his admiration for her, then he didn’t know what would.

Time
to find out what his resourceful, intelligent, little woman was up to tonight.

He
took the stairs quietly, unsure what she might wrought on him. Would she be
waiting at the top of the hall with a flashlight ready to spring on him?

His
lips twitched at the thought. He could almost see her doing that, too.

Never
had he felt so conflicted before. Under his own roof he had a gorgeous and
virtuous female actually giving him a chance, of sorts, and he couldn’t man up
to show her his face.

You
know what will happen if you do, Gav.

Yeah,
yeah. He knew and that’s why he wasn’t fuckin’ this up so soon. His fingers
rubbed at his lips. Damn, but he wanted to kiss her. Maybe even taste her,
learn what she liked and didn’t like, feel her naked skin against his. Wishful
thinking.

He couldn’t
make it through the day without her popping into his thoughts. He’d tried to
figure out his latest problem as he hammered in nails and sweated under the
gentle heat of the sun.

How
could he kiss her without showing her his face?

The
answer had finally come while he’d been sawing some boards to size.

He
had to blindfold her and tie her arms up.

Fuck.

How
the hell was he supposed to get her to agree to that?

It
wasn’t gonna happen. He knew it, his gut knew it, and his dick knew it. No
matter how erotic an image that painted, he knew it was impossible.

His
mind had even run through all the possibilities of how he’d get her to do it—bribery,
coercion, threats, warnings, asking very, very nicely with flowers, a box of
chocolates and a cherry on top.

It wouldn’t
work because she was too smart and he was still practically a stranger to her.
Damn it, but he’d have to figure out something and soon, ’cause she was killin’
him.

Bracing
himself, he headed upstairs and peered down the hallway—empty. Cautiously, he
pushed his bedroom door open but only his empty room was there.

“Alicia?”
he called out, looking in the direction of her room. It was only seven, she
shouldn’t be in bed yet.

When
he didn’t get an answer a trickle of alarm raced through his blood. He stood
before her closed door. Before he knew it, he had his fist raised and knocking
hard.

“Alicia?”
he said, louder. Damn, but his fucked voice couldn’t get that loud; he just
sounded like a killer from a horror movie.

Without
a care to whether this was all a joke or a game, he turned the door handle and
swung it open. Empty. It was empty.

Boots
pounding the floor, he was jogging down the staircase a second later, searching
the whole house—the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. His pulse was
spiking like a runner’s. She wasn’t napping on the couch, hadn’t made any
dinner. If she had left the house then one of the guards would have notified
him immediately.

He
had his cell unclipped from his belt and to his ear when he stepped in front of
the basement door. He froze.

Was
that…singing?

“Hello?”
Jo’s voice said in his ear.

“I
couldn’t find Alicia, but never mind,” Gav said and flipped the phone shut.

It
never occurred to him. He only used the basement once every two weeks or so to
do a quick load of laundry. Opening the door, his head cocked to the side as he
listened.

Her
voice became louder. A screeching of a classic rock song by Journey. He winced.
She sang way too loud and as she continued on, messing up the next line of the
song.

Grinning,
he found himself stifling a laugh as he started down the stairs. Adorable, she
was adorable too.
You’re screwed, Gav.

He
kept his steps quiet. Just what the hell was she doing down here, anyway?

The
overhead lights were on so he had to sneak carefully, not wanting her to hear
him. Not that she could over her singing.

When
he passed the midway part of the stairs, he froze. Absolutely froze, his lips
parting and eyes widening at what he saw. The sight hit him like a punch to the
gut.

Mother
of God.

Save
me.

Skin,
so much naked, tawny skin. Smooth, shapely legs, a lean back and, ah fuck, she
had those two little dimples above her ass. His cock saluted with the power of
a jackhammer.

Fuck,
he was screwed.

He’d
never seen a sexier woman and his card wasn’t exactly empty of players. But
never had he felt this instantaneous craving to touch someone, to taste them
from head to fucking toe. Sure, he’d sidled up to a damn good-looking woman, or
two, but he’d never had the yearning to savor that woman. Until Alicia
Clarkson.

She was
wearing…hell, he didn’t know what it was. A lingerie outfit thing. He didn’t
give a shit what it was because it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his
life. None of them could hold a candle to Alicia in a black-feathered matching
bra and panty set.

Heat
blasted him from the inside out making him break into a sweat. His legs spread
to make room for his growing shaft.

Her
hips were wiggling in a little dance, her firm, heart-shaped ass jiggling and
bopping in a way created by women to bring a man to his knees.

White
ear buds hung from her ears and were attached to a music player in her hand.
She kept looking down at a small oval mirror that he recognized from his
bathroom. She danced, and every now and then turned side-to-side. If she turned
around she’d see him. He knew he needed to break away, to turn his dumb ass
around and go back upstairs. Hell, even he knew how impossible that was. He’d
sooner be able to have a baby then look away from the sight of Alicia in next
to nothing.

How
could anyone be so beautiful? With her bronzed skin and black hair, he could
make out the light fuzz of hair across her lower back. She had thicker thighs
and a slightly rounded stomach proving her womanhood.

And
those breasts…he swallowed over the lump in his throat. He’d always loved
large, full breasts, the kind that he could sleep on like they were pillows,
but now he was rethinking his likes and dislikes. Hell, this woman had him
rethinking his whole fucking life.

Because
she had small ones. Small tits, perky and soft with only a little weight to
them. These weren’t breasts or boobs or some other stupid word, these were
tits. Hot, sexy, mouthwatering tits covered in black feathers.

His
breaths came hard and it took more effort than it should for him to rein it in
so he wouldn’t blow his cover.

You
perverted son of a bitch. Look what you’ve succumbed to.

Fuck
that, he told his self-conscious. He didn’t give a shit that he was spying on
an almost-naked woman. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over it. Not an ounce.
Because inside him he knew she was his, that the gift he was seeing right now
would one day be in his arms. One day soon, even if he had to tie her up and
blindfold those pretty eyes. Because he was going to have her. Had to have her.
Like dying grass needed rain, like a dying man needed to say his final goodbye.
He ached with it.

The
song must be coming to a crescendo because her voice got louder. Her arms
started to rise in a sweeping move as her voice carried, terribly.
“Whaaaaa-aaaa-oooooo!”

On
the final note, her arms were raised in the air like she was hailing the
almighty in one dramatic moment. Then she started laughing.

His
muscles tightened, brain locked onto that sound, learning it for the first time
and memorizing it. He’d never heard her laugh. It was a giggly sound, light and
happy. It made him smile.

And
it was as he was smiling like a creeping perv that she turned around. His
stomach nearly dropped out from him but she didn’t spot him. She eyed her ass
in the mirror, moving it this way and that, dipping her knees down and humming
as some new song started to play.

No
one had to tell him when his time was up. He started to move carefully, one
step up the stairs, then another. The wood creaked and he winced but she didn’t
start screaming so he figured he was good.

That
was until he heard a soft gasp followed by a definite squeal. He had only one
second for that sound to register before the full extent of his screwedness hit
him.

Idiot
that he was, instead of charging up the stairs, he found his head turning.

Their
eyes met.

One
hand covered her heart like it as trying to bounce out of her ribcage. Her
breaths came fast, straining those little tits against the bra.

It
was like fire blazing between them, connecting them by some electric tether
that only they could feel vibrating between them.

He
broke the connection. It had lasted maybe two seconds but felt so much longer.

“Gavin!”

He
charged up the stairs like he should have done from the get-go, slamming the
basement door after him.

Oh
fuck, his heart beat like horses galloping at full speed.

Fuck,
fuck, fuck…the words repeating in his mind as he heard a clatter downstairs
then soft, determined footsteps barreling up the stairs after him.

Once
again, he was the coward and she was chasing him.

CHAPTER 11

The
next song started to play on Alicia’s iPod.

She
hadn’t realized just how much she missed having something to do until she got
back to work. What made it all the more fun was her latest design. Each time
she looked at it she got that special little tingle at the base of her neck.
This was it; this was the design that would drive all the ladies to grab their
wallets and make a purchase.

It
was that good. Sexy, beautiful, and elegant at the same time. If a lady wanted
to feel naughty, then this lingerie set would do it for her; or if she wanted
to look kinky but cute it could work for that too. It was Alicia’s first
multi-purpose lingerie set, she realized, smiling.

God,
it felt so good. Excitement pumped in her veins, a smile wouldn’t leave her
lips, and good tunes blared in her ears. She could do this for the next month,
no problem.

Without
a mannequin, she tested the lingerie on herself. She needed to make an
adjustment to the underwire to strengthen it, she noted, and she needed to add
more of the ruffling feathers under the left cup of the breast to fill it out.

As
her hips caught into the rhythm of the song she hummed and sang along to it.
She’d grabbed the mirror off the bathroom wall. It hadn’t been easy; she’d had
to unscrew it, but Gavin literally had no spare mirrors in his house. Only two
with one in each bathroom.

She
bit her lip as she lifted her arms and checked out the lingerie at all
different angles. She squatted to test the feel of it around her thighs and
bottom, swung her arms around, lifted her knees. It was like a little workout.

What
would Gavin think, she wondered, eyeing her body in the reflection.

Did
he like small women? She couldn’t imagine she would as a man. Cupping her
breasts, she frowned at the image she presented. Small, almost boyish. Too
short to be sexy, which meant her legs didn’t have that ‘all the way up’
quality that men liked. In fact, she’d always thought they were rather stumpy
looking. Neither did she have wide hips like curvy women did or a nice hard
butt like some athletes. No, she was small everywhere, except for the small Buddha
belly she sported and fat thighs.

A
frown brought down her smile and she stopped dancing. God, couldn’t she ever be
happy with herself? One part of her rejoiced at her body in the lingerie. The
clothes made her feel free and happy, like she could bring any man down to his
knees. The other, darker part, was ugly and hideous, casting doubts.

What
if Gavin liked curvy, bigger, taller, women? He said she was beautiful, but
hiding behind clothes was a whole other thing entirely. Every woman knew that.

Maybe
that’s how Gavin felt about his face in a way. Maybe he couldn’t stand to look
at himself because all he saw was the flaws and none of the good.

God,
was that what it was like? Her eyes welled and she started blinking fast. She
couldn’t even imagine. She only had bursts of self-consciousness every now and
then when she looked at herself naked. What if it was her own face that she had
to look at every single day?

Oh
god… Her heart ached for him.

Turning
around, she eyed the backside of the piece. Some of the feathers needed
trimming to keep them more even at the top. The bottom needed a little more
ruffling to make it stick out more and to even out the grandness of the bra.
Proportions were everything in her line of work.