Obsession Too: Loving An Alpha Male

by S. K. Lessly

  Shane fell silent, and I kept my skeptical eyes on him. He was doing his best to keep a straight face, but the second I saw the side of his mouth curl, I busted out laughing.

  “Oh, God, boy, you are so full of shit. I know damn well he didn’t trip and fall; likely story. Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

  Smiling, he shook his head. “I’m telling you the truth. That’s the official story.”

  I leaned closer to him, my grin turning sinister. “Okay then, give me the unofficial version and please tell me how you made them choke on the false truth.”

  Shane maintained the smile on his face, but I could clearly see his body tense up. He didn’t utter a word for at least a minute. He watched me, probably debating with himself on what to tell me, which meant it wasn’t good.

  I placed the pillow I had in my arms to the side and climbed onto Shane’s lap, straddling him with my knees pressing deep into the mattress. I brought my hands to the sides of his face, running my fingers along his beard.

  “What happened?” I asked, my voice soft and pleading.

  Shane inhaled a breath and released it slowly. “There’s nothing more to add to the story. He was running his mouth and wanted to show off to some of his buddies. I heard some shit he said, called him on it, and didn’t like his answers.”

  “So you hit him.” I finished for him, drawing my own conclusions, knowing the man before me. I had learned early on that Shane wasn’t that guy you pushed. He wasn’t quick to lay hands on anyone, not like Josh, but it also didn’t take much to provoke him.

  My eyes bore into his, doing my best to read him, but it was no use. The man was like a brick wall. Still, I waited for his reply, but that didn’t come either. He just kept his eyes locked on mine and his mouth shut. Stubborn hard ass…

  “It was bad, wasn’t it?” I probed. “What did he say?” Suddenly, a thought popped into my head and I exhaled. “He said something about me, didn’t he? What did he say? Did he call me crazy or a bitch again?”

  After what felt like forever, Shane said, “He said nothing worth repeating.”

  “But it was something if it caused you to get in his face,” I said, attempting to get something, anything, but I got bupkis, nothing, zero, zilch. Giving up, I crossed my arms underneath my breasts and let out a snort. “So, you got an official reprimand?”

  Shane shook his head. “No, it was unofficial, but not for hitting him. I had told Junior to cover surveillance along the length of the entire crime scene. It was crowded as hell and chaotic. I wanted to track everyone’s movements to make sure nothing was overlooked and that everything was run by the numbers. You know how I like to pay close attention to detail. Junior created a perimeter that included the scenes from the makeshift parking lot and he caught the confrontation on tape.

  When asked what happened that night, I repeated my story about Buford tripping and falling; the same one that I told you. I said it was in my report and I looked at Agent Buford and asked him to confirm the events. He and Dickenson disagreed with my report and came up with their own story. Buford went on to tell some sob story that I had threatened both of them before I deliberately attacked him for no reason. When everyone looked at me, I pulled out my ace.”

  “You showed them the tape?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” he answered. “I showed them the tape. Needless to say, that meeting didn’t paint the FBI in a very professional manner. I did suggest we push this under the bridge and let it go. There was no need to bring this to light for any reason or ruin anyone’s careers because they weren’t thinking straight. Everyone agreed and that was that.”

  “Well, that sounded like it went amicably. What did you get in trouble for?”

  “Come on, Misty. These hands are lethal. I could have killed him if a wanted to and I was very close to doing just that. I got more of a warning to never lose my cool like that again at a crime scene. The DOD cover that we used that night stood, but it could have easily been blown. I lost my cool so I deserve what I got.”

  I studied him hard and shook my head. I softly muttered, “Have you ever heard of ‘I’m rubber…you’re glue’? It’s only words. You didn’t have to protect my virtue.” I gave him a small smile. This wasn’t the first time I had been protected by the Cooper brothers, but for some reason, hearing that he had fought for me after the shift in our relationship, made me feel warm fuzzy and a bit turned on.

  Shane didn’t reply to my question. I hadn’t expected him to. Instead, he brought his hands to the sides of my face and kissed me. I felt those old familiar feelings stirring. I ran my fingers down the ridges of his stomach and was heading for my growing prize when he pulled back from me.

  He grinned and kissed me on my nose. “Don’t you start,” he warned.

  “Me?” I exclaimed.

  “Yes, you. I have to go, and if I don’t leave now, I won’t. Then I’ll be at this pussy all day.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment, but it clearly didn’t work.

  The grin on his face deepened. “I have to get home, shower, and pack. I’ve got a plane to catch at five in the morning,” Shane replied.

  I perked up, my disappointment forgotten and replaced with curiosity. There had been no case assigned to him on our ever-growing list of open cases. “A plane? To where?”

  He kissed my lips once and twice before he shifted me off his lap and onto the bed. He threw his long legs over the side of the bed, stood, and moved to collect his clothes. “I have a few stops to make, but the first one is Russia.”

  I watched him dress and pushed my pillows against my over-worked headboard. I leaned against the propped softness. “Russia? I don’t remember seeing an open case that had anything to do with Russia.”

  Shane had already put on his underwear and pants. He was pulling his T-shirt over his head when he advised, “I know. It’s something else that I’m working on.”

  “Oh…” My eyebrows rose. “Care to share?”

  “No. At least, not yet” he replied. He threaded his arms through the sleeves of his shirt but left it unbuttoned. He moved back to the bed and sat facing me. He touched the side of my face with a lone finger. “Listen, I’ll be gone for a few days, but when I get back, I think we really need to have a serious talk about what’s happening between us.”

  I scoffed. “Oh, so you’re going to be able to control yourself this time?”

  Shane gave me an amused smile, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “I will if you will.”

  I rolled my eyes, knowing deep down I had less control than he had.

  Shane laughed into the silence and said, “Why don’t we meet at a neutral place? We can go out for a bite to eat.”

  “Really? Like have dinner or something?” I asked, grimacing as if the idea of dinner was painful to me.

  “Misty, we are friends, right? We’ve been out together multiple times. Why would this be any different? It’s the best solution for us both; being in the public eye. Don’t you agree? I feel you and I can behave in public.”

  I started to disagree with him, but I reluctantly nodded. I caught his eyes drifting down toward my exposed breasts, so I folded my arms across them to hide them from the greedy look that was creeping into his eyes. If I couldn’t touch, neither could he.

  “Okay, I guess I can meet you someplace. Where?” I inquired, trying my best to distract him.

  His eyes moved back to mine. “I don’t know. I’ll text you when I return to the States and let you know.”

  I nodded my reply. My own eyes traveled to his lips and I paused to just look at him. Damn, he was so good-looking, sexy, rugged, strong, and a beast in every sense of the word. He was too much, and yet I couldn’t get enough of him. God, I’m a mess. Will we be able to behave at dinner? I don’t think so.

  He and I stayed where we were. He lightly caressed my cheek, while I sat before him thinking about how much I wanted to feel his lips on my body again.

 
Shane was the first to break our connection. He leaned in and brushed his lips lightly against mine. His touch soft and sweet. I didn’t wrap my arms around him for fear of him rejecting me again, and at this fragile moment, I couldn’t take that.

  When he pulled back, he stayed close. “The moment I get back, I’ll reach out.”

  “Be safe,” I whispered against his lips. “And make sure you spill your guts on what you’re working on or I’ll tell Mama Joe you’re going rogue and not sharing with your friends.”

  Shane laughed. “You can count on it. I’ll see you later.”

  I started to get up to walk him to the door, but my lady parts cried out in protest. His smug behind started laughing.

  “Oh, you don’t have to get up, baby. I know the codes to the alarm. I’ll see myself out.”

  I rolled my eyes and fell back onto the bed. “Yeah, you do that, asshole.”

  He laughed again as he disappeared out of my room and down the hall. When I heard the door open and close and the alarm set, I closed my eyes. I was going to be late to work in the morning. I knew it.

  But you’re fucking the boss, so that’s okay.

  I cringed at that notion and set the alarm on my phone to get me up in enough time to make it to work. I rolled on my back, telling myself that I had everything under control, but I didn’t. A few hours later, I was awakened by my phone going off, indicating that I had a text. I jumped up quickly because of the intrusive sound, catching myself from throwing my phone against the wall. I slid the bar across the screen to get my message. I had to blink a few times and rub my eyes to make sure I was seeing the message right. It was from Shane.

  Wake up, beautiful.

  That was it. Three simple words. No greeting or salutations. Just right to the point and to the heart. I couldn’t help the smile that etched my tired face. Three simple words shouldn’t produce this type of effect on me. However, as I looked at the text, I knew why I was smiling. He called me beautiful. Granted, I knew I was beautiful, a goddess even, but for some reason when the guy I was whoring after called me beautiful, it meant so much more. I leaned back and read the text at least three times before my eyes shifted to the time of the incoming text.

  “Shit! I’m going to be late.”

  I had to rush through my morning ritual to make sure I made it to work on time. Because of my haste, I threw on anything that didn’t require ironing; jeans and a short sleeve button down, tapered, blue shirt. Completely dressed and ready for the day, I climbed into my baby and prayed that fate would take it easy on me today. Surprisingly, for the first time in my life, fate was listening.

  Since I was making great time this morning, despite the time I woke up, I decided to stop at my neighborhood Starbucks for a grande mocha latte with chocolate drizzle. To my extreme delight, the place wasn’t crowded. Thank God!

  Further proof that I had been touched by God this morning was how pleasant traffic was into D.C. Oh, please don’t misunderstand me. The traffic flow was horrendous as it always was, but the differences with the traffic today was that everyone stayed in their lanes. They were courteous and mindful, and I didn’t have to cuss anyone out. Everything was coming together, and I had to smile as I bobbed my head to the jamming Pandora playlist that was streaming through my car. My day was getting better and better.

  This happy feeling inevitably brought happy thoughts into my head, which brought Shane Cooper to mind. That text he’d sent didn’t say anything profound or heart-stopping; nothing like that. All he said was “Wake up, beautiful,” that was it. And yet that was all he needed to say.

  It was crazy how I reacted too. My face suddenly broke out into one of the largest smiles I never thought was humanly possible. It was as if I had been thrown back in time to when I was fifteen or something and the cute boy in high school asked if he could hold my book bag and walk me home in front of my friends.

  The other night, when I bared my soul to Shane, was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done. Yet, honestly, it was also one of the most comfortable moments in my life. It almost felt like the first time I’d rested my face against a rifle, curled my finger along the trigger, and looked through the scope at my target. It felt like home; like it was as natural as breathing. Talking to Shane had always been easy for me to do. I should’ve known it would be the same way no matter what we talked about. He was that one friend that would let you vent all you wanted, then he’d either do his best to make you feel better or get on you for what you said, and tell you that you were an idiot an idiot.

  That was just his way.

  He actually did that very thing when I had talked to him the other night. He made me feel good, content, safe, and an idiot all at the same time. His words, however, meant everything to me, and I knew that they weren’t just idle words. He meant every single syllable he spoke. I smiled at that thought and then immediately, my smile froze. The reality of what was happening between Shane and me hit me in the face, and I completely freaking missed it.

  Granted, I had been off my game since the Simon incident, but still… It shouldn’t have taken this long for me to realize what was happening between us or rather what had already happened. Yes, we’d had sex multiple times. I was used to the concept of a one-night stand and a booty call. I wasn’t proud to admit that, but there it was.

  What I was having an issue with and freaking out over as I gripped my steering wheel tight was the series of events that had happened afterwards. Usually, when a one-night stand occurs or you get down with a guy just for sex, the person leaves right after. There was no cuddling or round two. And you sure as hell weren’t served a full breakfast the next morning. Seriously, he made pancakes for fuck’s sake!

  Hell, maybe I can overlook that. But how can I rationalize what he did for me in the shower? He took care of me and oh so tender he was with me. I remembered thinking about how his gentleness affected me that morning, but I didn’t truly evaluate the situation. And honestly, I didn’t want to get into that again. I felt my eyes tearing up just thinking about it. What I hadn’t noticed at the time that I was convalescing on my couch, was that he had also cleaned my kitchen, made my bed, and put our sweat-soaked sheets in the washing machine for me.

  Who freaking does that?

  Once I made it to the couch that morning, I began to drift in and out of sleep. I didn’t realize Shane was still there until he handed me the pills and ice pack before he left. I had no clue how much time had lapsed since he’d helped me to the couch, given me the pills, and left. And then considering what he said to me the other night on the phone and what his words implied, it’s the reason why my heart was beating an SOS code on my chest.

  When I finally got to the office, I was in full panic mode. I pulled into the parking garage of our building, found a parking space, and took a few deep breaths. I even contemplated getting out. Shane wasn’t here today, but it didn’t matter. I felt so vulnerable and paranoid that if someone mentioned his name, I’d probably break out into hives.

  I gave myself a serious pep talk and I got out of my car, coffee in hand. I told myself that if I could just get to my office, I could lock myself in there for the rest of the day. I had mounds of paperwork on my desk to get through so this was doable. I pushed the call button for the garage elevator and once it arrived, it was empty; so far so good. I entered my necessary code for the secured elevator to move straight to the fourth floor, bypassing all of the lower floors as it traveled.

  The fourth and fifth floors were deemed DIA-DSO territory. No one without special security clearance was able to access these two floors. Once you got to the fourth floor, which was my floor, or the fifth, the elevator spilled out its riders to an empty room with only a security camera and a fireproof and bulletproof door that faced the elevators. In order to have further access to our floors, you had to punch in another security code, separate from the one used for the elevators, as well as place your hand on the palm print identification screen.

  If someone made it to th
e fourth or fifth floor, but couldn’t get any further, our security teams had their own protocols to follow. If you had the codes to make the elevator stop on the DIA-DSO floors, you should have the proper access to get past the security doors. If for any reason someone was found without the necessary security clearance, things would get really uncomfortable for them.

  I followed the necessary steps to gain access to our floor and once I made it through the doors, fate started to fail me. It seemed that everyone I passed as I made a straight line to my office saw me, smiled, and had the audacity to speak regardless of the frown on my face. They knew better. I had rules that I had established the moment I entered these halls some years back. In the morning, especially on Mondays, you don’t talk to me until after ten. Everyone knew this and yet…

  It’s because they know! I shook my head and ran my hands through my damp curly hair. Don’t be ridiculous, no one knows.

  “Good Morning, Misty,” I heard someone say as they passed me and that was the last straw.

  I swore to myself that the next person that passed me, made eye contact, and smiled would feel my wrath. And as fate would have it the next person that passed me became my next victim. Some tall analyst did that very thing, and I ended up grabbing him by his ears and drove him against the wall.

  I looked up at him, his chin trapping my forearm against his throat. “Do you know what today is?”

  He nodded quickly, his eyes large, panic paralyzing him.

  “So why are you speaking to me this early in the morning? Why is everyone speaking and smiling at me as if its five o’clock on a Friday evening?”

  He shook his head frantically.

  “Are you suicidal or something?”

  He shook his head again.

  I squinted my eyes and moved closer to him. “Have you heard something?”

  He didn’t answer, probably because he couldn’t breathe, but that seemed like a personal problem to me. The analyst’s face was becoming beet red, and he had that look in his eyes like he was going to shit his pants. I reluctantly let him go because I didn’t want to have to deal with a mess like that again. Once I let him go, he scuttled off quickly looking back a few times at me as he went, like I was crazy, which I was.