Possess: An Alpha Anthology

by Anthology

The car smelled brand new because it was. The leather was soft, supple, impeccable. Kind of like Bash was now. I missed the beat up Dodge he’d taken me to Prom in. “Doesn’t this thing get dirty when you’re called to a fire?” I asked, breaking the silence as he pulled up to the stoplight.

  He glanced my way, no doubt surprised that I would even bring the fires up. “No, I take my work truck. This was my street-only present to myself after the last deal.”

  “That’s right. You sold apps for firefighters or something.”

  A small smile crept across his lips. “Checking up on me?”

  “It seemed only fair,” I countered. “Harper filled me in.”

  “Ah, I figured she was keeping you informed. It’s not like Ryker and I are out of touch,” he said, turning down my street.

  “Actually, she didn’t tell me until I asked this week. Once Ryker told me you joined a crew in California…well, we kind of have a no Bash-talk rule. Harper doesn’t bring you up, and I never ask.”

  “Never?” he asked, pulling into my little driveway and putting the car in park.

  “Never. It’s just safer for my sanity that way.” I looked up at my small townhouse. “You brought me home.”

  “That was the idea, right?”

  “Right. But this isn’t my mom’s house. This is my house, which I bought way after you left. Been checking up on me?” I joked.

  “Always.”

  My breath caught at the look in his eyes. It was possessive, consuming, raw in a way he hadn’t been when we were younger. Damn it, my body warmed for him. Good thing your brain is in charge of this operation.

  His gaze dropped to my mouth, and my lips parted. I swept my tongue across my lower lips, watching with fascination as those eyes of his darkened. He reached across the console and cupped my face in his hand, his thumb caressing my cheekbone.

  “Emerson.”

  It was too much. Everything was too much when he was close. I’d built these gorgeous, strong, fireproof walls, and he was taking a sledgehammer to them, ripping down the defenses I’d spent the last six years constructing.

  “Bash…” I shook my head to dislodge his hand, and started to fumble with the door, but the handle wasn’t where it usually was.

  “I always knew where you were.”

  I paused, entranced by the rasp in his voice.

  “I knew when you got accepted to CU, and I knew that you chose Western State because it was closer. You commuted for your MBA because you couldn’t bear to move away while the city was still digging out of its financial hole. I knew when you bought this townhouse and when the water heater was faulty and quit working on you.”

  “What? How?” Crap, my voice was breathless.

  “I asked. Ryker told me. You may have blocked me out of your mind, moved on, never given me a second thought, but there was never a day that I didn’t think about you. Worry about you. Check the fucking weather to make sure you weren’t going to get yourself killed driving to class.”

  There was no oxygen. Why was there no oxygen? My lungs wouldn’t pull it in, and even if they did, everything was Bash. The car smelled like Bash, the air tasted like him, my skin warmed where he’d touched…it was all Bash. “I need out.” My hands fought with the door, but nothing moved, there was no way out. “You have me trapped in here. Fuck!”

  The door opened, and I damn-near fell into Bash. When had he come around to my side? He caught me around the waist easily and steadied me on my feet. “It’s here,” he said softly, showing me the handle further up the door. “You’re not trapped. I would never trap you.”

  I nodded, trying to process what he’d just said, but I couldn’t. They were just words and nothing matched what he’d done to me. Nothing. “I need to go inside. I know you want to talk about the team, but I can’t. Not tonight. Not like this.”

  “Like what?” he asked, moving closer.

  “With a fucked up head! Damn it, Bash! You’ve been home for what, four days?”

  “About that.”

  I fought for control, for the tiny, logical portion of my brain to overpower the emotions that were begging to be let free from where I kept them bottled, captive, restrained. But he was here, in front of me after six years of waiting, worrying, borderline hating him, and I couldn’t get a damn grip. My heart vomited, my mouth spewing forth the words I’d kept leashed since I realized he’d left.

  “You invade my space, carry me out of a bar, order me around, and act like you have some kind of Neanderthal’ish right to me when we both know you have none. Six years without a phone call, an email, a fucking Facebook status! You walked away. Remember? You didn’t just walk. You ran!”

  He took the final step between us, bracing one hand on the frame of the car and tunneling his other through the hair at the nape of my neck. “One, I was a kid. You were a kid. Kids do stupid things. Two, yes, I ran. I’ve never lied to you, Emmy, and I’m not starting now.”

  “And three?” I taunted.

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk so sexy that I nearly went limp. “Three,”—his features locked into something dangerously serious, his hand tightening in my hair. “I have every right to you.”

  “Bullshit,” I spat, bringing my hands to his biceps in readiness to push him away. We were close enough that he filled every single one of my senses, overwhelming every bit of my brain and heating the blood in my veins.

  “This mouth?” He ran his thumb along my lower lip. “It was mine first. These curves?” His hand skimmed down my side, gently squeezing in at my waist and then palming my hip. He closed his eyes and groaned for the barest of seconds.

  Fuck. My body came to life. A simple touch and my pulse pounded. My breath caught, my core started to hum. All from a single. Damn. Touch.

  I was so screwed.

  “I was the first to map each line of your body. My tongue was first to taste every delicious inch of your skin.”

  “Don’t,” I pled. But for what? I wanted him to back off, to leave me the hell alone and go back to California. Right?

  “I was the first man inside this body, Emerson. The first one to take you, to consume you, to make love to you.”

  “And you think that gives you some right to the woman I am now? That girl you made love to is long gone,” I countered, scrambling for any logic I could cling to.

  “Your body says it does. Your little breaths are hitched, your thighs are shifting, and I’m sure I have marks in my arm from your nails pulling me closer. You’re practically screaming for me, and I’ve barely touched you.”

  God damn it, he was right. Not that I’d ever admit it.

  Bash leaned in, his mouth dangerously close to mine. “Say no,” he ordered. “That’s all you have to say, baby. One little word.”

  Oh, God. I should have. I needed to.

  I opened my mouth to protest…and whispered his name instead. “Bash.”

  His mouth crashed into mine. There was no tentative first kiss, no exploratory nibble. He devoured me, sweeping his tongue inside to rub against mine, to stroke the sensitive skin behind my teeth. His hand cradled my head, kept me prisoner for the most delicious assault on my senses as he licked into my mouth, demanding my response.

  He more than got it. I moaned and kissed him back for everything I was worth.

  Fire raged through me, burning out the ashes from my heart. My arms looped around his neck, and I gave myself over to the perfection of kissing Bash again. Past and present blended together so seamlessly that I could have easily been eighteen again, but six years gave me more experience, made me more aware of the ache, the outright need for release and the one man I knew could give it to me.

  God, this was Heaven and hell all wrapped into one moment.

  My back hit the Rover as Bash pressed his weight against me. He was so much bigger than he had been at twenty-one, his frame now filled out with roped muscles that drew my fingers like magnets. He was more skilled too, his lips expert at drawing every ounce of pleasure he could fr
om my mouth. The hand that had been at my hip shifted to my ass, and he effortlessly lifted me, bracing me against the car.

  “You’ll scratch it,” I gasped as he shifted his attention to my neck, running his teeth down the delicate skin just to lick his way back up.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” he growled.

  My legs looped around his hips, and I rubbed against him, shamelessly seeking the friction I needed. God, this was what I’d missed from the others—this desire burning me from the inside, demanding to be acknowledged, to be appeased.

  He tilted my head down and kissed me relentlessly, overtaking every sense. His cedar scent was in my head, his tongue filled my mouth, his skin warmed under my fingertips, and his low moan reverberated in my ears when I rocked against his erection.

  Only Bash did this to me, turned me into a sex-starved siren, made me feel powerful, and not just wanted, but needed. He kissed me like I wasn’t just another girl or even the girl. No, Bash kissed me like I was necessary to his existence.

  Except I wasn’t.

  He’d proven that over and over again these last six years, and once he had the crew set up, he’d leave again without looking back. Without sparing me another thought.

  “Stop,” I begged against his lips.

  He froze, his breath hitting my lips in harsh pants. “Emmy?”

  God, those eyes…they were tinged with green, his lids lowered in want. I closed mine, refusing to give into this madness for another second. “Stop,” I repeated.

  He lowered my feet to the ground and rolled away from me, leaning against the Rover with his palms up. His tongue ran across his bottom lip, like he was trying to catch what was left of my taste, and I nearly gave in. He was so incredibly sexy without even trying. Instead, I found the strength to walk away.

  My legs shaking, I made my way up the short sidewalk to my house. My bed. Alone.

  You could have him. You just have to say yes. But I’d worked so hard to rebuild, and saying yes to Bash meant giving him the power to destroy me.

  I pulled the hide-a-key from the false rock and turned to find him staring at me, his hands now buried in his pockets. Strength, determination, and sex all radiated from him, and my body all-but rebelled at the distance between us.

  “You need to start with Mrs. Greevy,” I called over, failing to keep the slight tremor from my voice.

  “What?” he asked, stepping forward.

  I threw my arm out. “Don’t. That,” I motioned between us, “will not be happening again.”

  One of his eyebrows rose in challenge. “Oh?”

  “Pay attention, Sebastian. You have three days until the council meets again, and you bet your hot little ass that you’ll be the topic of discussion. If you want to win over the council, you need to win the town, and that means you need Mrs. Greevy on your side. Then go to Mr. Hartwell.”

  “He still teaching at the high school?”

  “He’s the principal now.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Things change, Bash. People change too.”

  We stood fifteen feet apart, but the connection between us felt like we were still locked at the mouth…hell, the heart. I swallowed and pivoted to open my door.

  “Hey, Emerson?” His voice was way too close.

  I looked over my shoulder as I turned the key and found him on my porch. “Sebastian?” I used his full name just to irk him.

  His smile was unexpected and breathtaking. “I didn’t do,”—he motioned between us—“this, to get your help for the team.”

  My eyes fell away. In one simple sentence, he’d nailed my biggest fear. “Okay.” Yeah, right.

  His chest rubbed against my back, and his lips brushed my ear. “I did it because I had to, because another minute without kissing you would have shredded me. Hell, because I needed to see if you taste as good as I remember.”

  My muscles abandoned ship, and I nearly melted on my front porch.

  “But, you taste better. Sweeter. Hotter. So you can say this won’t be happening again, but I know better. You and I are inevitable, and you know it. We always have been. Gasoline and fire.”

  I turned the handle with what strength I could muster and stepped into my house. “I’m not denying that. But we both know that I’m the one who ends up a giant pile of ashes, so forgive me if I’m not quite ready to let you burn me again.”

  I shut the door without looking back and then sagged against the wood, sliding to the floor. Oxygen filled my lungs as I took deep breaths, waiting for the ache to ease in my body and my heart.

  Four fucking days and he had me tied in knots, and they were the kind I knew only he could unravel.

  Chapter Five

  Bash

  The door to the Chatterbox swung open smoothly, and it was just…wrong. Where was the squeak? That noise had gotten Ryker, Knox and I busted more than once when we were late from school.

  “As I live and breathe. Sebastian Vargas, get over here and give me a hug,” Agnes ordered, coming around the diner’s counter.

  “Nice place you’ve got here, Agnes,” I said as I hugged Knox’s grandmother. “It’s a little different than I remember, but I like it.”

  She let me go and looked over her diner. “I like to think that I improved on it a lot. But I still miss the old wall,” she motioned to the new wood paneling on the south wall that had replaced the one lost in the fire. Along the ridges, couples had carved their initials since I could remember. It was more than saying you were seeing someone. That shit was permanent, where everyone could see. You carved your girl’s name next to yours on that wall and you’d better have a ring ready, because half the town was going to assume it was coming.

  I wasn’t romantic in the least, but I appreciated the sentiment, both the caveman-like claiming of your woman, and the idea of loving someone so much that you were willing to declare publically that not only was she yours, you were hers.

  But what the fuck happened to the couples who failed? Did they have to bring their new girls to sit next to the reminder of their old ones?

  “That was a definite loss. I think there were more wedding announcements on your wall than the Ledger.”

  “It was sad,” she agreed. “So much history lost, but small towns have memories that last even longer. Those names are still etched on hearts.”

  “Did any of it survive? The old wall?” I asked.

  “Very little. Nothing worth putting back up.”

  I glanced around the diner. “It’s all very…”

  “New?” She offered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, the pancakes are the same. How about we get you a stack before the council meeting?”

  My smile was immediate. “That’s the best offer I’ve had since I got here.”

  “Well, stop pissing everyone off.” She wagged her finger at me, pointed to an empty seat at the counter and disappeared into the back.

  I checked my email. Fuck. If I were going to have a prayer of getting this thing off the ground, I’d need him.

  Bash: HEY, DID YOU HEAR FROM COHEN YET?

  I waited a few minutes for the response, actively ignoring every inquisitive look thrown my way in the diner.

  Knox: NO, BUT I FOUND SOMEONE WHO MIGHT KNOW WHERE HE IS.

  Bash: THANKS, MAN. KEEP LOOKING.

  Knox: NO PROBLEM. HOW IS HOME?

  Home. What the hell was that? Mom was in Denver now, couldn’t stand the thought of rebuilding without Dad. But this is where we grew up, where Ryker, Knox and I terrorized the town as kids, defended it as teens, and helped pay to rebuild it as adults.

  But more than the town… It was Emerson.

  She was here, and as much as I’d wanted to stay the hell away from her, fuck if I wasn’t chasing her down. I’d never been able to stay away from her when I was within town limits. It was one of the reasons I’d never come back.

  Bash: COMPLICATED.

  Knox: ALWAYS IS. YOU PISS OFF EMERSON YET?

  Bash: ALMOST IMME
DIATELY.

  Knox: GOOD TO KNOW THAT SOME THINGS DON’T CHANGE.

  But they did. The need between Emerson and I had always been mutual, both of us knowing that one day we’d collide. That much hadn’t changed. But it had always been her putting her heart out there, and me trying my damnedest to protect her by staying the hell away.

  Now she was all too happy to stay away.

  It had been three days since I kissed her, and as cliché as it sounded in my own head, I swore I could still taste her, still feel her skin under my fingers. I had exactly thirty-three minutes until this council meeting, where I’d quite possibly have to give the best presentation of my life, and all I could think of was how badly I wanted to see Emerson.

  This was exactly why I’d wanted to come when she’d already left.

  “Here we go,” Agnes said, pulling me from my thoughts as she put a plate of hot blueberry pancakes on the counter.

  “Marry me,” I said after my first bite.

  She laughed. “I figured you might need a little bolstering for what you’re walking into.”

  I chewed thoughtfully. “What do you know, Agnes?” Everything.

  “Oh, I know you crashed and burned with Mary Greevy yesterday.”

  I paused, then swallowed. “Yeah, well she’s never been a fan of mine.”

  “Couldn’t be because you flashed around that it was a lot of your money that made this rebuild possible, was it?” She gave me an innocent smile that was anything but.

  “Small towns,” I muttered, stabbing through a blueberry.

  “Oh, it most certainly was,” Emerson said, coming up next to me, and I nearly choked. This was why we needed the squeaking door, so impossible-to-resist women couldn’t sneak up on me. She had on a simple, classy sheath dress, but damn, it hugged every single one of her curves, and those red heels…I wanted them digging into my ass. Now. “The usual, Agnes?” She said without looking at me.

  “What did you hear?” I asked.

  She shot me a sideways glance. “Only that you’re a pompous asshole who doesn’t remember where you come from, and if you think you’re going to tarnish the memory of those heroes then you have something else coming.”