Taming the Alpha

by Mandy M. Roth

  In all the ways.

  Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and he put one hand on her ass, forcing their bodies together from top to bottom.

  He pushed her backwards onto the table, and she jerked when she hit it.

  “Table,” she whispered as their kiss broke.

  “I know.” He nudged her toward it, and she sat on the edge. She spread her legs, and he stepped between them, groaning as he pressed against her. Seams popped as she stretched her legs around him, tugging the skirt taunt. The sound turned him on like crazy as he ran his hand along her skin and shoved her skirt up to her hips.

  She tugged at his shirt. He shrugged it off, and tossed it behind him.

  Her hand went to his chest. “Holy shit,” she whispered as she caressed the center of his chest. “You work hard.” Her hands ran over the lines of his muscles, and she smiled with a wicked grin.

  “I do.” He didn’t move while she touched him.

  Which was hard.

  Because he seriously wanted to touch her too.

  Her nails grazed his skin, making him harder still, and he exhaled a slow breath between his teeth.

  Her gaze met his, an impish expression on her face. “You like that, do you?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed her in a kiss and his tongue dove in, his need to taste her overwhelming him.

  She wrapped her arms around him, her legs tightening around his hips. Her fingernails grazed the skin on his back.

  His hands slid over her sides, inching up that thin blouse she wore. She sighed as she broke the kiss and followed his lead, tossing her shirt on the floor.

  His breath stopped. She practically spilled out of her pale white bra, and he immediately slid his hands over the straps at the shoulder, pulling them down.

  She arched her back as he started kissing her neck, chest, down to her breasts. One hand behind her worked the hook, the other pulled one breast from its cover, to bare the very erect nipple.

  He kissed her breasts, licking trails all around until he hit the nipple. She groaned, arching into him again as he bit on the hard bud.

  He teased and tasted first one then the other. Somehow the bra came off as he continued. He guided her backwards onto the table. The old wood groaned under the weight of them, but he didn’t care.

  He laid her back, kissed her body down to her skirt. He shoved it up even more, revealing a pair of silky pink panties. When his fingers caressed the edge, he could feel how warm and wet she was.

  Oh hell.

  “It is a little wet down here,” he whispered, his finger playing just under the edge.

  “That can happen,” she replied her voice heady with need.

  He raised his eyebrow. “Can’t have you catching cold now…” He slid his finger under the hem and started tugging them down. She moaned as she lifted her hips, allowing him to slide the panties off.

  Mostly.

  They hooked around her shoe’s heel.

  He ran his hand over her leg, down to the stiletto and groaned.

  “I can take those off,” she said.

  He met her gaze. “Don’t you dare.” He tossed the panties aside and shoved down his pants, baring everything to her.

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “You approve?”

  “Oh good god, yes.” She pressed one of her feet into him. “I need that in me now.”

  “Do you?” He slid his hand between her legs and into her folds where she was very much ready for him.

  “Oh yes. Now. I need you now.”

  He smirked. “One second.” He pulled out of her hold.

  “What?”

  He turned and stepped into the kitchen, retrieved a condom, and was back in a second.

  “You keep condoms in the kitchen?”

  He slid the latex on. “Wishful thinking.” He stepped between her legs and hovered just next to her opening.

  “Fantasy?” she asked, rocking her hips into him.

  “Yeah. Kitchen table with an incredibly hot chick in heels.” He slid inside her.

  She cried out as he entered her fully.

  “How long have you had this fantasy,” Harper moaned as he slid out.

  He slid back in. “Shut up, Harper.”

  She panted as he increased his pace, and her hips rose to meet each of his thrusts. He pounded into her, feeling the poke of her shoes on his backside as he hit it hard.

  Damn, it was hot.

  Almost too hot.

  She stretched her hands out, one hand clenching the edge of the table, the other over her head as she made noises that turned him on even more.

  “Yes... Chris, yes.” She grabbed his shoulder as an orgasm took her hard.

  Just her saying his name almost sent him over the edge. He wasn’t far behind anyway. That just tipped the scale. It only took a couple more good thrusts--or maybe it was her clenching him inside as she came--but he was done too.

  He collapsed on her.

  After a moment, he moved, realizing he might be crushing her.

  “So how long have you had that fantasy?” she asked, her eyes surprisingly sparkly for after sex.

  “Since you walked in.”

  Her eyes got big. “Oh.”

  Chapter Nine

  Friday afternoon

  “What in the hell am I going to do?” I muttered as I ran my hands over my hair. I’d unclipped and re-clipped my bun about eighteen times, trying to think.

  It wasn’t helping.

  I’d gone through every one of my files over the last few days and made a lot of phone calls on behalf of Velvet Touch Landscaping, all while trying really hard not to think about Chris and his “velvet touch.” But it was hard. Super hard.

  Almost as hard as he was…

  I giggled.

  “Stop it,” I muttered to myself. “This is not helping.”

  I ran my hands over the edge of the desk, trying to make myself focus on the task at hand. After all, I was supposed to be helping Chris save his company, not daydream about how many orgasms he gave me on Wednesday.

  My cell phone dinged.

  I glanced at it.

  Hey --Chris

  I blushed like a school girl.

  Lord, what was wrong with me? I was trying to work, and I couldn’t help fantasizing about the guy…

  I mean. It was the kitchen table.

  Like right out of a romance novel.

  And that wasn’t the only thing we did, either.

  Evidently, Chris liked the high heels, because I didn’t take them off all night. Different, but I have to say; there’s something to having on a pair of heels and nothing else as I walk across a room.

  My phone went off again.

  What are you doing tonight? --Chris

  Hopefully you, I thought to myself after I read his text. “Though I might need to get some new shoes…” I muttered to myself as I quickly texted him that I had no plans.

  I made myself look back at my desk, files and all, including all the names I’d checked off my list of people who weren’t interested in buying into his “yard mowing company.”

  There was a lot of red on that piece of paper.

  I tried to explain that Velvet Touch Landscaping did so much more. There really wasn’t much that they didn’t do.

  Aat least, that’s what Chris and I discussed between the kisses and all.

  My phone’s text message notice made me jump. I reached for the phone and managed to knock it on the floor.

  “Damnit,” I muttered as I picked it up. “I’m not a high school girl with my first crush.” I sat the phone on the desk.

  I wasn’t going to look at it.

  Nope.

  I…

  Who was I kidding? I could hardly wait to see what he said. And I wanted to kick my own ass. Wasn’t I the gal who just a couple weeks ago claimed I had no desire to date anyone?

  Was that what we were doing? Dating?

  Or was this some kind of Friends-Wi
th-Benefits thing?

  I didn’t know. It had been too long since I’d done any of this stuff.

  Dinner again? --Chris

  In public or in private? --Harper. I grinned as I sent the text. Because I knew what I wanted, and I knew exactly the heels I wanted to wear for the occasion.

  But what about him? What would he want to do? Would he want to go out or go someplace more private?

  Your call. --Chris

  “Hmm,” I whispered.

  While private is very fun, in public we could actually talk. --Harper

  Do you want to do something besides dinner? --Chris

  Oh yes. --Harper. Visions of Wednesday night danced in my head, and I very much wanted to reenact some of the fun.

  Or try new things.

  Didn’t really matter.

  Well, I do need help with the proposal. --Chris.

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered. Not even in the same ballpark as what I was thinking. He was talking business. I was thinking with my hormones and not my head.

  I was a goddamn idiot.

  Evidently, I wasn’t nearly as impressive to him as he had been to me.

  Sure. What time? --Harper

  “Crap,” I said.

  And then my business line rang. It wasn’t a terribly long phone call, but it was enough to have me checking another possible investor off my list. I was spewing curses when I hung up the phone.

  “Are you alright?” my assistant, Isaac, asked when he poked his nose into my office. “I can hear a string of cursing in here.”

  “Hardy, har, har,” I muttered as I secured my hair bun again. “I’m fine. I’ve just got this little side project that I’m working on.”

  He came into the office. “That landscaping thing?”

  I nodded. “I have a half a dozen investors who love local businesses and not a one wants to even hear a proposal from this company.”

  “Did any of them say why?”

  “Not really, no.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe you oughta ask the boss. Maybe he’s got someone who’d be interested.”

  I nodded. I didn’t particularly want to take up a personal project with my boss, the Duke, but the man always had some ideas. Even if it was personal.

  Okay, so we called him that because he could have been the reincarnation of John Wayne, but really, his name’s Everett and he built the company from its bones way back when. He had that sort of country-king personality. Didn’t take any bullshit from anyone, and when he stared at you with those weathered but still sparkling eyes, you knew that he knew exactly what you were up to.

  It was kinda like working for a telepathic super hero. One that probably would know exactly what I needed to do with this side project for Chris.

  “Yeah, I’ll go talk to him. He may have an idea or two.”

  Because I sure didn’t have any more.

  At least, not ideas that would help Chris’s company.

  Chapter Ten

  Chris picked up his soda in the fancy glass and took a drink while he watched Harper. She didn’t acknowledge him as she perused her menu.

  He’d already decided what he wanted. They were at a steakhouse. So he was getting steak.

  Simple.

  Unlike his feelings for his dinner companion. Going out wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted to do. But that was the more primitive side of him talking. He’d be just fine staying in, ordering pizza and getting to know her even more in the privacy of her home.

  She’d been on his mind like an echo behind him everywhere he went the last few days. He’d texted her for no apparent reason, just to see a reply. He’d even picked up the phone to call a half a dozen times before stopping himself. He didn’t want to seem freaky, calling without a purpose. Because who would want to admit the only reason they’d call was to hear the other person’s voice?

  That was stupid, childish stuff.

  As he sucked a piece of ice from his glass into his mouth, he couldn’t help trying to decipher what it was about her that made him feel like he was fifteen again. He wanted to throw her down on the table and have his way with her, right here in this nice restaurant, and he didn’t really care if anyone--

  “So what are you getting?” Harper glanced at him over her menu.

  “Steak.”

  “You like your meat.”

  “Need my protein.”

  She smiled. “Well, while I love steak, the Cluck-and-Oink sounds great.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “And that is?”

  “Rotisserie chicken and pork ribs.”

  “Ah,” he said, and smiled. “You sure do you like to eat.”

  She blinked. “Uh, excuse me?”

  Shit, he’d screwed up. “What I meant was--”

  “You think I eat too much? For your information, I had a friggin’ granola bar for breakfast and a cheese stick and an apple for lunch. So if I want to eat a big dinner for my evening meal, then that’s my business.”

  He blinked. “That’s not what I meant.”

  She picked up her purse and slipped the strap on her shoulder.

  “Wait. Please.”

  Their gazes met. “You got sixty seconds.” And she set a timer on her phone.

  “Well, I mean, what I was trying--”

  “Forty seconds left.”

  “I can see the damn timer,” he snapped. “I hate dining out with women who just eat like a bird. A salad, and maybe a breadstick, because they don’t want to, god forbid, eat in front of me. Like I’d be disgusted by a woman--”

  The phone went off.

  She hadn’t moved.

  Her expression shifted, but he wasn’t sure if she was about to leave or ready to stay.

  He hoped the latter.

  “By a woman what?” she asked.

  “A woman who actually liked food.”

  The waiter came up, his presence diffusing the tension between them, and asked for their order. He turned to Harper first, and Chris sat perfectly still, wondering if she would order or if she was about to walk out.

  “I’ll have the Cluck-and-Oink,” she said.

  Relief washed over Chris, so much so that he forgot what he was going to order until Harper nudged him under the table. Orders given, the waiter took the menus and disappeared. When the server was gone he reached across the table to take Harper’s hand.

  “Look, sometimes I can’t say what’s right.” He shook his head. “Not what I meant.” He inhaled a breath and let it out, trying to think how to articulate himself. Stupid moments like this, these feelings things, always got him tongue tied. “I mean, sometimes I’m so sure of myself. I think I know everything that’s going on. I have my reasons for saying stuff, and in the moment, they make sense. But they don’t always come out like I expect them to.” He squeezed her fingers. “Or like I mean.”

  “And sometimes, I jump to conclusions. Especially when I’m nervous.” She squeezed his hand back

  “You’re nervous?”

  She nodded. “I’m not sure about anything. It’s been a long time since I… Hell, I don’t even know what this is we have going on. Are we dating? Are we friends-with-benefits?”

  “You’ve been thinking a lot about this.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about you. Don’t really know why. It seems every time we get together we get into some kind of argument.”

  “I’m an asshole. You’re an independent woman. Tends to bring out the scuffles.”

  “You speak from experience?”

  “I seem to fall for independent women.”

  She paused, staring at him. He could feel his chest pounding, waiting for her to say something.

  “Are you falling for me?” she finally asked.

  “Well, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you.” He picked up his drink, and held the cup in his hand. “You’re here with me, and you’re keeping my asshole in check.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I think I’
m mostly giving your asshole side a sounding board.”

  He smirked. “You certainly make my male side come to the surface.”

  A glimmer of naughty sparkled in her eye. “Is that so?”

  He glanced at the edge of the table. “New shoes?”

  She licked her lips. “Maybe.”

  He felt his pants get tighter, and suddenly wished they had stayed in. Or gotten their meal to go.

  She brushed some of that brown hair across her brow. She flicked her tongue out and licked some salt off her margarita, then took a long, exaggerated suck of the straw.

  “Damn,” he whispered, because all he could think about is what else she could flick with that tongue.

  She smiled, a wicked grin. “What did I do?” She batted her lashes, looking like a pin-up girl.

  “We may be getting this meal to go.”

  “You don’t like the ambiance?”

  “I don’t like how I have to behave right now.”

  “And how is that?”

  “Like a gentleman.”

  “Why are you worried about that?”

  He inhaled a breath and let it out slowly. Did she truly have no idea? Or was she baiting him? Only one way to find out.

  “Because I want to fuck you on this table. Right now.”

  Her eyes got wide, her lips parted, and she made this little squeak noise.

  He picked up his cup. “So eat fast.”

  She nodded. Her gaze darted around the room, like she was looking for something--or rather anything--to focus on that wasn’t him.

  “I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and scooted out, taking her purse with her.

  He’d thrown her off balance, he guessed.

  Good.

  Will keep things interesting.

  He watched her walk to the restroom, and he couldn’t help smiling. Partially because of the view of her ass in those heels--red today--and partially because, well, he’d made her tremble. He’d seen her hands.

  They’d been shaking when she picked up her purse.

  Anticipation built inside him, though he wasn’t trembling, just getting more uncomfortable in his pants.

  “Well, look who it is,” came a man’s voice.

  Chris looked up.

  Fuck. Not who he wanted to see.

  Now or ever.

  “Knight,” he said, glaring at the dark haired man who had been trying to buy his company for at least a year. Not to mention, screwed him in other, much more personal ways a few years back. Stealing girlfriends and lying to bosses to make himself look good was only some of Knight’s talents.