Alphas & Fairytales: A New Year's Eve Anthology

by Molly McLain

  “I don’t know when it happened exactly.” I lift both of my shoulders as a brisk New Year’s Eve breeze dances against my face and sends my hair whirling around my cheeks. “My guess is that it was a slow change. One I didn’t see happening until it was too late.”

  “Too late?” His dark eyes go wide, and I curl my fingers around his and squeeze.

  “Not too late, just…so far gone that I didn’t know what to do to fix it. I tried, over and over again, but…”

  “I was too far into my own head,” he says regretfully, and I nod.

  “Yeah.”

  “I had no idea, babe.” He covers ours hands with his free one and the simple gesture sends shivers—the good kind—skipping down my spine.

  “I know you didn’t,” I sigh. “And why would you? We were doing okay. Not the same kind of okay as before, but at no point was our marriage intolerable.”

  “But you weren’t happy either.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” I rest my head on his shoulder and gaze up at the bright lights that surround us. “I just want more, and I’m not sure you have it in you to give it. You couldn’t even make it through opening Christmas gifts without taking a work call. A call that absolutely could have waited.”

  His big body goes tense beside mine and I hold my breath.

  Tell me you can do better, Ian. Please.

  “I want to try.”

  Thank you, God.

  “But I’m going to need your help.” He lifts our tangled hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “Come home, babe. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

  I glance up at him again and the fear in his gaze chills me to the bone. How could I have thought he didn’t love me?

  “It won’t be easy.”

  “I know that. Just tell me what I need to do.”

  A stabbing ache prods at my stomach and I close my eyes. “Ian…”

  “I mean it, Lauren, just say the word. I’ll do anything.”

  “Honey, I can’t do that. This is something only you can figure out.” It’s a balance he’s going to have to make work for himself and ultimately for us. I can’t bear any more of the burden for him or we’ll end up in this same place all over again.

  He frowns and I exhale a disappointed, but still hopeful breath.

  “We’ll get there, Ian. It’s just going to take time.”

  Ian

  I hate that I’ve let her down. I hate even more that I’m not sure how to fix it.

  “Sorry, babe, but I’m not a mind reader,” I mutter, as we head back inside the hotel. I’m not sure we’re if we’re going back to the gala, but it’s too cold outside and I know we’re not at a point where I can assume she’s coming home.

  “You used to be,” she says, her arm looped through mine. The fact that she’s touching me is promising, but we’ve far from sorted this out.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You used to know how I was feeling without me having to say a word. I don’t know how you did it, but it was like…” She breaks off with a bittersweet smile. “Like you had a sixth sense. Like you knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.”

  “I thought I did, too.” But not so much anymore. “Sure as hell doesn’t feel like that now.”

  “Because I’m not your number one anymore.” Her shoulders lift and fall as if her presumption is no big deal and that’s fucking bullshit. She’s my wife. Of course, I know her.

  Don’t I?

  “Laur, that’s about as far from the truth as—”

  “Is it?” she laughs softly, a single tear slipping down her cheek before she chases it away. “I left on Christmas Day, Ian, and you didn’t so much as crack the front door to see if I was waiting on the other side, let alone come after me.”

  “You sat outside?” In fucking December?

  “I went to Millie’s.”

  “Millie who?”

  At that, she merely presses her lips together tightly. “Our neighbor. She’s lived next to use for over a year now.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus.” How the hell could I miss someone moving in next door and my wife being so miserable?

  My cell phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach for it without thinking. Lauren lets go of my arm immediately, her quick intake of breath stopping me cold.

  I’ve just been given a chance to save my marriage and I’m about to blow it by setting my wife aside for work. Apparently not for the first time.

  You fucking moron.

  “Wow.” My mouth slacks open and for the longest moment of my life, all I can do is blink at her. This woman who’s trusted me with her heart.

  A heart I’ve taken for granted God only knows how many times.

  “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you,” she whispers. “This right here.”

  Lauren

  He blinks down at me and I hold my breath. I don’t need all the pieces to fall into place for him tonight, but I do need him to realize what has to change. I need him to be emotionally and mentally present in our marriage; his physical presence isn’t enough.

  “We met ten years ago tonight,” he says after a long beat, his voice low. “You had on a red dress similar to the one you’re wearing now.”

  Hot tears fill my eyes, but I don’t look away. I let him see how much I need this. How much he does, too.

  “It was shorter, though.” His gaze drops to the conservative hem of my skirt, fluttering just above my knees. “Have I ever told you that you’re more beautiful now than you were back then?”

  Dear God. “N-no. I don’t believe so.”

  “Well, you are.” He closes the distance between us, slides his arms around my waist, and pulls me tight against his chest. “Why the hell have you let me get away with this for so long?”

  “Because I love you.”

  “And I love you. So much more than I could ever love my job. I assumed you knew that.”

  “When you stopped showing me and telling me, it became harder to believe.”

  “But you had faith.”

  “I tried.”

  “I’m so fucking glad for that.” He lowers his head and slants his mouth across mine, stealing my breath right there in the middle of the busy hotel lobby. Someone or something bumps into him from behind, but Ian doesn’t break away. He just kisses me and kisses me, until I’m not sure my feet are even on the ground anymore.

  “I need you,” he whispers against my lips and then next few moments are a whirlwind of movement and chaos as he drags me into an oddly quiet hallway not far from the front desk.

  His hands are everywhere at once and all I can do is smile. “Honey, slow down.”

  “I can’t.” The stubble on his jaw abrades my cheek and then the column of my neck as he makes his way to my collarbone, loving me with his mouth in every way imaginable. Kissing, licking, tasting, sucking… “I’ve denied you, babe. I owe you this.”

  Right here on the main floor of the MGM? On New Year’s Eve?

  Suddenly the wall behind me moves and I tumble backwards with nothing but Ian’s arms to catch me.

  “I got you,” he murmurs as darkness surrounds us and then captures us fully when he kicks the door closed behind him.

  “A closet?” I laugh. “So original.”

  “Desperate times, babe.”

  “I am so not complaining.”

  He groans when my fingers find the hard ridge behind his fly, a clear indication of what he hopes to accomplish on this little behind the scenes detour. “We have to make this fast or we’ll get busted.”

  “Fine by me—ohh!”

  His arm slides under my ass and lifts me off the ground at the same time I tug down his zipper. In less than five seconds, the thick head of his cock pushes against my panties, beckoning a simultaneous groan from both of us.

  Pressing his forehead to mine, he yanks the fabric to the side and plunges in deep. “My wife,” he grunts as he fills me over and over again, ob
livious to the world just a few feet away. “Mine.”

  “Yes.” I cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck, as we love in a way we haven’t in too long. No distractions. Nothing but passion and hunger between us. “This is the man I fell in love with, Ian. This man.”

  “Fucking love you,” he pants, his hips pounding into the back of my legs. “I’m so sorry I got lost.”

  “But you’re back now.”

  “Hell yes, I am. And I don’t plan on going anywhere either.”

  “Nowhere?”

  He covers my mouth with his, swallowing my cry as he hits just the right spot and the darkness spins fast and tight, sending me over the edge. Buried inside, he follows after with three words on his lips…

  “Nowhere but home.”

  Ian

  “I don’t want to back,” Lauren sighs as I lead her toward the gala a few minutes later. Her face is flushed and there are red scruff marks on her chest that any man who knows his ass from a hole in the ground would recognize. Call me a caveman, but I kind of want to show her off.

  “We need to make sure Carter knows you’re safe.”

  “I’m sure he’s figured it out.”

  “Nonetheless…” We slip back into the ballroom and fortunately Trent is manning the door so there’s no hassle.

  “Welcome back, kids,” he says with a wink, and Lauren curls into my side, which, of course, I friggin’ love. How could I have forgotten how amazing this feels?

  “You’re just in time for the countdown!” Kinsey, Trent’s girlfriend and my captain’s daughter, smiles and, from the stage, I hear the line-up of vets and charity personnel begin to count. Ten, nine…

  “I love you.” Lauren’s fingers press against my chin, pulling my attention down to her. “I never want to spend a New Year’s Eve without you. Ever.”

  Six, five…

  “And you never will, if I have anything to say about it.”

  My gorgeous wife grins up at me and I thank my lucky stars that she gave me this second chance.

  Three, two…

  “One!” she yells with the crowd and then launches herself into my arms, claiming the kiss that’s been hers for the past ten years and will be for the next seventy.

  “Happy New Year, babe.”

  I hope you enjoyed Ian and Lauren’s short, but sweet story! Sign up for my mailing list to keep up to date on the next Vegas Heat story, Break, coming soon!

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  About Molly McLain

  * * *

  Molly McLain lives in a tiny Wisconsin town with her husband, three kids, and a sassy dog. She loves fountain soda, jellybeans, Luke Bryan and Avenged Sevenfold, thunderstorms, and camping at quiet lakes. She's been scribbling down love stories since she was old enough to dream about happily-ever-afters, and now she writes sexy, small town romance for real.

  Close Encounters

  BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  ALISON BLISS

  Close Encounters

  Brick Davenport is the quintessential billionaire bad-boy. He’s also my ex-fiancé and the man who taught me the first rule of business—always protect your assets. On New Year’s Eve in Vegas, I’ll have to do just that, because Brick’s on a mission...for my heart.

  Chapter 1

  I’d only been here ten minutes, and I already wanted to leave.

  Most people probably thought spending New Year’s Eve at the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas would be the perfect end to a great year. Or maybe even the highlight to a shitty one. But no. Not even close. Not only had I missed the premier MMA fight and was late to the after-party of the decade, but I didn’t want to attend either to begin with.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love charities. And being invited to the MMA fight and the private, black-tie gala that followed directly after had been a huge honor for me. Both events benefited VETSports, which was a charity organization near and dear to my heart since my own father was a war veteran. But no matter how magnificent the evening was supposed to be, tonight was not going to end well. At least not for me.

  Upon entering the glorious venue, I passed by a waiter wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt who offered me a glass of champagne from the full tray he held. I seriously considered grabbing more than one, but didn’t want to look like a tasteless lush by walking around with a drink in each hand.

  Besides, there were so many A-list people in just this one room alone that my head was already spinning. Billionaires, rock stars, champion MMA fighters, celebrities, executive chefs, CEOs, and… Holy shit! Was that the Academy Award-winning actress, Savannah Jordan?

  Jesus. How the hell had I gotten an invite to an event with such important and prosperous people? Sure, I worked for Shrum Financial Group, which was a prestigious investment banking firm out of Dallas that had recently facilitated some high-profile mergers and corporate reorganizations. But I was still only a low-level securities associate, which was little more than a glorified secretary in my industry.

  Hell, even the hot, blue-blooded security guard who had patted me down at the bag checkpoint looked like a rough and tumble, tattooed-version of Henry Cavill. Which only made it funnier when I glanced at the name on his uniform. I’m sure he got it all the time, and okay, I probably shouldn’t have laughed. But I doubted the real Henry Cavill was as grumpy as the errant security guard had been. Someone apparently needed to get laid.

  And although he was probably more in my league than ninety-nine percent of the men in this entire ballroom, I wasn’t the least bit interested. Not that he’d offered me anything more than a sneer. But it wouldn’t have mattered if he had. Two weeks ago, I’d learned an important lesson and had finally stopped looking for a fairytale romance that obviously didn’t exist.

  I didn’t need or want another man screwing up my life. Right now, as far as I was concerned, men in general could go fuck themselves. If I had any interest in women, I would become a lesbian and turn all the straight women who’d been wronged by men against them.

  Jaded? Why, yes, I am. Thank you for asking.

  As if he’d heard my private thoughts, a man laughed from somewhere behind me, and my body jolted at the deep timbre of his voice. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was since Brick Davenport wasn’t a man any woman could easily forget.

  The moment I’d heard that the CEO from Davenport Investments, a banking firm also located in my hometown, would be attending the event, my heart had firmly lodged itself into my throat, slowly strangling the life out of me. If I hadn’t already agreed to meet a new potential client at the function and flown all the way here from Dallas, I would’ve backed out of the whole thing.

  But it was just one night. Only a few hours, really. So I swallowed hard and twisted my neck to catch a glimpse of the man who’d made the last two weeks of my life a living hell.

  Somehow, I’d forgotten how tall and powerful Brick was. He stood almost ten feet away with his back facing me, chatting with Bill Shanklin, the CEO of Vanderwood Incorporated. But Brick’s voice carried so clearly to my ears over the buzzing of the crowd around him that it only attested to the strength behind his authoritative voice.

  An older woman wearing a gold chiffon gown and an upswept do stood nearby. She caught me staring at the two men standing together and smiled. Then she stepped closer and nodded politely at me. “Hi, I’m Margaret.”

  “Addy,” I replied, returning a friendly smile.

  She gestured to the man standing opposite of Brick. “Do you know Bill?”

  “Not exactly,” I admitted, taking another sip of my champagne. “I mean, I recognize him as the head of Vanderwood, but I don’t know him personally or anything. Not like I know Brick.” A sharp pang stabbed through my chest, but I pushed it away and gazed back at her. “Um, are you with Mr. Shanklin?”

  “Yes,�
�� she said, her face flushing with a pretty pink blush that swept across her high cheekbones as she gazed at the handsome older gentleman. A sweet sigh left her lips. “I’m his wife of almost forty years now. Our anniversary is next week.”

  “That’s amazing. Congratulations.”

  She grinned proudly. “Thank you. It’s been the best years of my life.”

  For a moment, I was taken by an overwhelming urge to ask her how she managed it. I mean, come on. I couldn’t even keep Brick’s interest for one year, much less forty of them. Curiosity was killing me, and I really wanted to learn her secret to longevity. But before I had a chance to ask, Brick turned toward me and lifted his head.

  His intense blue eyes connected to mine with a fierceness that stole my breath, and my heart stuttered to an abrupt stop. Upon seeing me, his mouth held a firm, unnatural line and his granite jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek. The corner of his mouth lifted, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, nor had it come across as sincere.

  Actually, he looked…angry? But what else did I expect from a prideful, egotistical man such as Brick Davenport? It had been two weeks since I’d called off our engagement and left the diamond ring on his nightstand, along with a note asking him never to contact me again. And he hadn’t. Not even once.

  Margaret apparently noticed the growing tension. “So you and Brick, huh?”

  I shook my head, then downed the rest of my champagne and placed the empty glass on a nearby table. “Um, no. Not anymore.”

  My tone wasn’t at all unfriendly, but there was a note of finality to it that I hoped she understood and took for what it was worth. I wasn’t very comfortable talking about what happened with Brick to anyone, much less a complete stranger. Even one as nice as she seemed to be.