A is for Alpha

by Kate Aster

The report cuts back to the newsroom. “It wasn’t until last night, nearly two months after the initial photo made headlines, that several photographs arrived in Mrs. Petronel’s mailbox.”

  They break to a montage of photos—photos I’ve never seen before—ones that show me fighting him off, even fleeing from his car.

  They’re more revealing than I could have even hoped. One has me pushing him away with both hands. In another one, I’m actually striking him in the face.

  “You got a good smack at him, kiddo,” Fen retorts at the sight of that one.

  “I don’t even remember doing that,” I confess, almost breathlessly.

  I feel better somehow, just seeing it. Stronger.

  For so long, I thought I was a victim that night. But seeing these photos of an event that is nothing but a blur to me, tells me that I really am a fighter. A survivor.

  And scrappy. Wasn’t that what Cam called me once? I’m scrappy.

  Still in a state of disbelief, I watch the broadcast continue.

  “I feel horrible that she was obviously falsely accused. My husband likely held that press conference to distract us all from what really happened that night. To protect himself,” Mrs. Petronel continues. “I knew I needed to make things right for Arianna the moment I saw these photos, no matter what the cost might be to my family and me. I’d rather do what’s right than what’s easy.”

  Cam’s spine straightens next to me. “Hey—she stole my line.” His rebuke is quick, but even so, his two brothers hush him as the report continues.

  My hand rises to my chest as the story ends, almost as if I need the assurance that my heart is still beating, and that yes, I still am taking in air to my lungs. I should be smiling, beaming, laughing right now. Yet I feel in a haze of disbelief.

  Fen glances at his watch. “Two minutes of air time? That’s all the story of the year got?”

  Cam’s grin is wide. “That’s all we need. It’ll pick up speed now.”

  I watch the TV in front of me as Cam flips the station to other news networks. Within the next thirty minutes, the story, minus the exclusive interview with Mrs. Petronel, is picked up elsewhere.

  My name is back in the headlines. And this time, the press depicts a very different Arianna Bradshaw.

  “I can’t believe it’s over,” I finally manage to say.

  “Believe it,” Cam says. “Your phone’s going to be ringing off the hook with reporters calling you.”

  “Don’t be silent this time,” Dodger advises.

  And I know I won’t. I’m aching to tell my side of the story now that I have an audience that isn’t sharpening their skewers when they look at me.

  My eyes turn to Cam, and I feel the sting of tears. “You did it, Cam. You fixed it.” As I lean into him and press his mouth to mine, I can feel his smile against my lips. A laugh bubbles up inside of me as his hands weave into my hair, pulling me closer till I feel his tongue touch mine. The taste of him heats me, fueled by the glory of freedom from the weight that’s been pulled off my shoulders.

  Dodger clears his throat.

  “Uh, guys…” Fen butts in and Cam waves him off, deepening his kiss and urging me backward onto the sofa as a laugh vibrates in his chest.

  Sighing, Dodger stands. “So… Fen and I were going to toss the football around on the beach for a while before Stella gets home.”

  Giggling behind a kiss, I’m pinned to the sofa by Cam, savoring the feel of him on top of me, even if it is just to make a point to his brothers that they aren’t wanted right now.

  “You’re free to join us, if you want.” Fen’s voice is thick with humor as he stands. “But I’m thinking you’re… busy.”

  Cam barely moves a millimeter from my face. “Get out,” he manages to grumble before dipping his tongue into my mouth again.

  As I taste him, I hear a shuffling… the slide of keys on a countertop… and then the click of the front door.

  “I thought they’d never leave,” Cam laughs.

  “You did invite them,” I remind him as I savor the feel of him sweeping me into his arms and carrying me up the staircase to his room.

  “We all make mistakes,” he answers, then kicks his bedroom door shut behind us after we enter.

  He stretches me out on the bed and lets his lips make a searing path from my belly upward, taking my shirt and bra off me in the process. His hot breath makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention.

  I’m smothered by sensation now, his lips, his hands, his body on me. He tugs off his shirt and I sigh at the heat emanating from his skin. Exquisitely sculpted abs beckon me to touch, to stroke him, to knead the soft skin that covers his hard form.

  How did I get here again? I’m not even sure of what happened these past hours. It all feels dreamlike to me; barely two hours ago, I’d walked into his condo to take a look at his changes to my website like it was any other day. Yet now, a phone call set a pattern of events into play that pulled Arianna out from the cave where she’d been forced to hide for two months.

  “Is that really it then?” I breathe the words out involuntarily, more to myself than to him.

  Brow arched, he lifts his moist lips from the line of his kisses up my neck.

  “That’s not what any man wants to hear when he’s making love to a woman,” he says.

  I laugh, and can’t miss the beauty of the word love when it falls from his lips, even if it isn’t in the way that I sometimes dare to dream he might say it one day.

  “It just seems surreal.”

  “Believe it,” he says simply, then sucks in one of my nipples before adding, “I’ll pinch you if you want, but I’d much rather keep doing this.”

  “I’d much rather you kept doing that, too,” I admit, letting my eyelids flicker shut as I savor the feel of him. My body is already thrumming, heat pooling at my center as he pulls off my shorts without even unzipping them.

  “Aw, no thong today?” He feigns disappointment as he kisses me through the material of my panties.

  “I wasn’t expecting this today,” I murmur, my voice hiking up a half octave when the heat from his mouth tickles my mound. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You look great in practical cotton.” His finger slides past my panties and into my moisture. “Feel good, too.”

  “Really? I think I prefer them off.” I nearly stutter the reply as my hands move downward, tugging at the sides of my panties until he obliges me by pulling them off my legs.

  He grabs my feet and puts them on his shoulders, letting his mouth consume me while my body rocks in a primal rhythm. I cry out, almost in pain from the need building inside of me. All the worry and stress that I’ve kept pent-up pours from me, and my soul seems lighter for it.

  I shudder as I thread my fingers into his dark hair. My knees open even further, as though this activity makes me more limber than I thought even possible.

  I love when he takes me like this—owning me—making me completely vulnerable to him. I love the way his fingers work in perfect accord with his mouth. I love the way he anticipates every gasp, how he coaxes out my most desperate fantasies.

  I love how he mates with me as if he’s branding me as his own.

  I love him.

  My heart seizes up again at the knowledge of it. But I give into it. I let myself love this man even though I know it won’t last forever. I let myself revel in the feeling of it because right now, in this moment, it makes my life surpass perfection.

  Shattering against him, my mind murmurs sweet nothings to him as I sink into the sheets. I love you, Cam.

  But I know better than to say it out loud.

  When he parts from me to retrieve a condom, I’m incomplete until his warmth is blanketing me again.

  He slides into me, and my body breathes out a sigh.

  I love you.

  Words I won’t say. Because I won’t let a day this perfect be ruined by the resistance I’d undoubtedly see in his eyes if I let my confession slip.

  He
nibbles on my breasts, his rhythm quickening. Digging my fingers into the muscles of his back, I pull him in deeper, arching my pelvis, wanting him completely fused with me. Even if I can’t own his soul as he does mine, I can have his body. I can relish in it.

  Our skin is slick with moisture, an urgency of this lovemaking apparently shared by both of us. Time alone is precious and I know he shares my need to climax. Even so, he slows his pace, letting his groin rub against me when he’s completely filling me. My core rejoices from the pressure.

  With each thrust, it’s as though he takes complete ownership of me. And just to punctuate that fact, he’s going to draw this moment out until I know no other way of survival than through his complete possession.

  “Cam…” My voice cries out just as I reach the peak of my desire. I hold back any other words; it’s too dangerous with the feelings welling inside me. I just let him drive into me, claiming me.

  Fireworks explode behind my eyes. My channel seizes up around him, drawing him in harder with each quake. Until finally, he thrusts one final time making me scream.

  His body sinks on top of mine as the aftershocks consume me. Each tiny ripple, each shudder, feels so tender, and I milk the sensation of it. Finally, depleted, my muscles relax completely beneath him.

  Heaving a breath, he rolls to the side of me. Wordless, my eyes absorb him. The slow grin that stretches his lips is lazy, satisfied. I watch his firm chest rise and can’t resist resting my hand on him, stroking his pecs and feeling his heart thumping behind his ribcage.

  His head lolls to the side, as his eyes meet mine.

  “Now that’s what I call a happy ending,” he chuckles.

  I laugh at his words, and I laugh even harder when I feel the relief of them, knowing that my life has just changed for the better.

  And I have him to thank for it.

  Chapter 25

  - CAMDEN -

  With the hum of the usual bar activity around me, I take a long, thoughtful look at the surfing competition on the TV as I stick a brightly colored paper umbrella in the drink I’m making.

  In the entire time I’ve lived on the Big Island, I haven’t felt the pull of mainland news once. I haven’t been curious about the headlines that seem so far removed from life here.

  Until lately.

  After CNN released those latest photos three days ago, I discovered I would earn a sharp rebuke anytime I flipped the channel to the news even for a moment here at the Dancing Coconut.

  Yet I’d done it anyway, both yesterday and the day before… and been rewarded with two headlines worthy of a colossal fist pump.

  #1: Senator Petronel resigned.

  #2: Two more of his former nannies stepped forward with stories similar to Annie’s, both much more accessible on the mainland.

  So, while I’d worried that Annie might have been pulled into an endless string of interviews with the press, her life quickly returned to a calm reminiscent of this laid-back island she temporarily calls “home.”

  Today, as I look at the TV, I’m glad for the sight of the surfers on it. I’ve had my fill of mainland news. Enough to last me a decade.

  With two margaritas in my grasp, I walk to the other side of the bar to deliver drinks to a family at a nearby table. Their two kids—not much older than Stella by my estimation—are a little too young to be sidling up to the bar anytime soon.

  The couple clinks their margaritas together immediately with the words, “Happy anniversary.”

  My ears perk up and I reach for one of Annie’s fliers in my back pocket.

  “It’s your anniversary?” I ask them.

  “Tomorrow, actually,” the wife tells me. “But we’ve been celebrating since we stepped off the plane yesterday.”

  “Good plan.” I grin. “Well, if you want a little time away from the kiddos, check this out.” I hand them Annie’s flier—a new design that has her website on there now that we’ve published it.

  Their eyes brighten with hope at the sight of it—as though I’ve just handed them the key to romance. Because maybe I have.

  Annie and her friend are going to make a fortune at this.

  When I leave for the night, Annie awaits me, sitting on my lanai with her usual cup of coffee, looking out to the darkness. I’m not even going to admit how much I like the sight of her there, waiting for me. It goes against everything I’ve believed in since I had lieutenant’s bars on my uniform.

  And yet, I can’t seem to help it.

  Before I join her on the lanai, I peer into Stella’s room. She has one arm wrapped around her unicorn and the humpback I bought her the other day has fallen to the floor. Silently, I pick it up and set it down on the other side of her, knowing she’ll reach for it in her sleep. The backs of my fingers touch her forehead lightly as though I need some kind of reassurance that she’s okay because my corner of the world is dependent on it.

  “Did Stella get to bed all right?” I ask Annie when I step outside, even though I know the answer.

  “Sure did. She met a girl at the pool today and they wore each other out playing Marco Polo.”

  I slide my hand along her shoulder as I take a seat at her side. “My brothers are still out?”

  Her expression is peaceful, a reflection of the calm seas only feet away from us. “Dodger’s still at the clinic and Fen called to say he’s out with some tourist he met at work today. He’s not expecting to be home tonight.”

  “Ah. The flavor of the week,” I say.

  “More like, the flavor of the day with him,” she corrects.

  “You’ve caught on.” Unable to resist her, I lean in to taste her. Her lips hint of flavored coffee creamer. I hate the stuff, but have always kept it on hand in case I awakened with a woman in my bed and she needed a caffeine boost before I sent her on her way.

  Funny. This one I never want to see leave.

  She giggles at my statement. “You made it pretty clear that commitment is a four-letter word in this bachelor pad paradise you guys have here.”

  My mouth opens, ready to argue that point. But I stop myself. She’s smiling as she says it; she understands about us—about me—and I tell myself that’s a good thing. Even though I feel like an imposter hearing her say it.

  Because I don’t feel like I’m the same guy who joked that we should install a revolving door for all the women my brothers and I brought home.

  In fact, right now, that joke sounds pretty fucking lame.

  “Any more excitement?” I ask her instead.

  “No new revelations today,” she breathes out with a sigh tacked on at the end. “I haven’t turned on the news, though. But Sam said she’d call me if anything new hit the headlines.”

  “Good to have a friend on the mainland looking out for you.”

  “My mom called again, too. Told me she’d love it if I came out for next Thanksgiving or maybe for Christmas. Said I’m the talk of the town for a completely different reason now.” She spares me a quick smile before looking back at the Pacific. “You were right, you know. About my parents. I really do think they were just trying to protect me when they didn’t invite me out there. I don’t know why I didn’t believe that before. I think I’d fallen into a rut of thinking that the whole world was against me.”

  She leans over, snuggling her head onto my shoulder.

  I picture her headed back to the mainland for the holiday, and feel the strange desire to make the trip with her if Stella’s back with her grandma by then. I’d be curious to meet the people who shaped her life. Stopping short of suggesting the idea to her, I remind myself that meeting a girl’s family is treading dangerously close to “relationship” territory.

  I pull her even more tightly to my side—because close never seems close enough with her— breathing in her scent that has become like an addiction to me.

  “I—uh—also got a call from that school I’d applied to before. You know, the private one in D.C.,” she tells me.

  A shot of something akin to panic spike
s up my spine. “Really?”

  “Yeah. They saw the news.” She shrugs. “I guess there’s no not seeing it out there in D.C., according to Sam. They were very apologetic that they’d turned me down for the job a couple months ago.”

  “That was nice of them,” I offer cautiously, even though I’m reminded of something my mother once told me when I was little about fair weather friends.

  “Yeah,” she continues. “They told me they hoped I understood how much they value the privacy of their students and really were concerned about hiring me when the headlines were… different.”

  “Nice of them to say that now,” I can’t resist interjecting.

  “I guess. They seemed sincere, though. They offered me a job. It’s not the one I originally applied for. That’s already been taken. But one of their teachers is pregnant and wants to take a few years off work. So I wouldn’t have to start until the beginning of the next school year.”

  Fuck. I feel like someone just tossed a bucket of cold water on me, the way my skin prickles right now. “So, that’s good news, I guess,” I say, because I’m really not sure what else to say.

  When I’m met with silence, I ease back a few inches from her to take in her expression. “Well, is it?” I ask cautiously.

  Her lips press together for a moment. “The money’s great for a teacher’s assistant. Better than I expected and I’d definitely be able to start up on my master’s.” She pauses. “And Stella will probably be back on the mainland by then.”

  “What about your business with Kaila?” I ask as something fierce claws at my gut. I can’t put a name to it. Desperation, maybe, because when the question slips from me, I know I’m looking for any reason to keep her here.

  Any reason but me.

  “I talked to her about it after Stella went to bed. She thinks I should go for it. We’ll still have plenty of time to get the business started up, and then when I leave, she’s pretty confident she can continue it on her own.” She takes my hand. “It seems that gorgeous website you built for us gave us both a confidence boost.”

  There’s this sliver of me that wants to remind her that I made the website for her because I want her to succeed here.