Dirty Player: An International Alphas Romance

by Lula Baxter

  “That’s too much,” she says, her eyes staring at it in surprise.

  “We might as well make it up to him since he’ll no longer be able to surreptitiously stare at you,” I reply, nodding toward the door where the waiter has been lingering in the shadows, watching our little tête-à-tête.

  She turns her head and a small, embarrassed smile comes to her lips. She quickly finishes off the rest of her wine in one impressive gulp. When she sets it down again, she makes sure to point at the bill I’ve left and, for some reason, shrugs and smiles apologetically.

  Americans.

  But who am I to judge? Half my blood runs firmly red, white, and blue. The stars and stripes variety, to be specific.

  She stands up and looks down at the distance to the street below her, debating whether the three-foot drop is worth the risk of potentially jumping to her death. The alternative would have her heading back to the steps and taking the long way around.

  I laugh and reach up to lift her down, eliciting a mild yelp of surprise from her. Her delicate curves fit easily into my broad hands. The skirt of her dress billows up as I bring her down, providing a few more inches of tanned leg for my inspection. I briefly wonder how high up that tan goes as I set her down on the pavement near me.

  “There,” I say with a satisfied smile. I nod toward the seat behind me, encouraging her to hop on.

  Now that this is more of a reality, she considers the back part of the bike with hesitation on her face. Her eyes flit up to mine and I offer my most daring grin.

  Let’s see how adventurous you are, Astrid.

  A guilty smile comes to her face as she makes up her mind and she comes in closer.

  High risk. High reward.

  Chapter Three

  Astrid

  What am I doing?

  This is absolutely insane.

  Never mind that my mother is waiting for me back at the shop. Never mind that she has no idea where I’ve wandered off to. Never mind that I have no idea who this guy is.

  It’s an escape.

  That’s it. That explains everything. Even a thousand miles away from Boston, I can still feel the yoke of my pending nuptials. The dress shop was just one more prison, mostly because every item going on the bill was being purchased with Campbell money. Tainted money.

  And here is a stranger to fortuitously take me away from it all.

  There is also the wine to consider. I’m new enough to alcohol for that one glass, especially the way I downed the last of it, to have more than a passing effect on my judgment. Right now it has me giddy with the possibilities, mostly since I’m getting a closer look at what this guy has going on underneath his clothes.

  That does it. I reach up and take hold of his broad shoulder, trying to ignore the thrill of pleasure that runs through me at how firm it feels. I hold tightly as I attempt to lift my leg over the back of the bike. It’s an awkward feat in gymnastics that has me wondering why I bother with yoga and pilates if they don’t come to my aid in times like this.

  Alexandre just laughs. “This is your first time on a bike, no?”

  “How can you tell?” I reply, laughing lightly at myself.

  “Just take it easy. We have all day.”

  All day? I think about my mother back in the store. No doubt her plan was to spend all day in the shop, buying one dress after another for my “trousseau.”

  Something about that thought finally gets my leg firmly over the back and I pull myself up behind Alexandre. I throw the strap of my purse over my head so that it’s crosswise over my body to keep it from sliding off.

  Sitting behind him like this makes that earlier rush of pleasure seem like a trickle. My legs are wide open to accommodate his larger body, making the skirt of my dress slide up to an almost indecent length. As I wrap my arms around him my breasts press into his back. I’m sure he can feel the hard nubs of my nipples poke him. I keep my hands pressed firmly against his solid abs. It takes every ounce of my willpower to avoid sliding them up and down over each hard ripple.

  It’s a firm reminder of everything I’ll be missing out on once….

  Stop it, Astrid!

  I won’t think about Bruce, or the wedding, or my parents, or Boston, period. I’m going to enjoy everything about this day.

  “Here, you take the helmet. It is illegal to ride without one here.”

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “I am a rebel, Astrid,” he says in a low teasing growl.

  I laugh as I take the helmet. When I position it over my head, I can barely see a thing, it’s so big.

  “Not to worry. It is a short trip,” he assures me, then starts the engine.

  I’m surprised at how heavy the rumble is beneath me. It feels like I’ve positioned myself directly on a vibrator and I have to clamp my thighs against his as a shudder runs through me. I can’t tell if it’s the engine causing Alexandre’s body to shake slightly or if he’s laughing at me. Either way, it’s a good thing that my thighs did react that way because the next moment we’re off. My arms squeeze tight around his waist as he jets us around the bend to where the boats are docked.

  The policeman standing guard near the entrance shouts something at him in French while pointing to his head. I can feel the vibration of Alexandre’s stomach as he laughs, lifting a hand to wave his apologies.

  I wonder which “little boat” he’s taking me too. Having spent enough time around the rich, new money and old alike, I know how much they enjoy self-deprecation. A “little boat” could be anything from a yacht that isn’t quite sixty feet long to an actual rowboat flaunted as some sort of ironic joke.

  We stop at the first row of small power boats, which answers the question for me. The entire marina seems to be arranged in order of size, with the smaller boats closer in, getting bigger and bigger, row after row, all the way to the huge cruise ship that has docked here for the day.

  Alexandre stops, turns off the engine and lets me off first. It’s just as awkward getting off as it was getting on, but I manage. He laughs at me again. When I pull off the helmet I give him a frown, causing him to laugh even more.

  “So which one is yours?” I ask, looking past him to the row of motor boats.

  “You’ll see,” he says ambiguously. He squints one eye at me, scrutinizing my reaction.

  “What? Did you think I prefer one of those?” I ask waving my hand toward the big yachts further down.

  “A lot of women would,” he replies, walking around his bike to open one of the compartments at the rear and pull out a bag.

  A small sharp laugh escapes me. “A lot of women have no idea how much those would really cost them,” I reply, pushing the helmet into his chest as I say it.

  He gives me a curious look as he takes the helmet with his free hand and stretches the plastic bag toward me. I take it and look inside. It’s mostly fruit and cheese and half a loaf of bread.

  “If I had known I would be having company I would have brought more,” he says, pulling out another bag with bottles of water. “But I think this is enough to sustain us. If not, there are places to eat along the way.”

  I have no idea what “along the way” means. How far is he taking me? Oddly enough, I find myself not caring.

  He places the helmet on the handlebar of the bike and takes my hand. As we walk down the dock to whichever boat is his, I feel the practical side of me start to creep in and I slow down.

  Alexandre feels the drag and stops, turning to me with a questioning look. “Having second thoughts?”

  “No…I just,” I squint one eye up at him. “I should tell someone where I’m going.”

  His smile is amused, almost indulgent. “You are a smart woman, Astrid.”

  “Um…and, maybe I should take your picture, just in case?”

  “So they know who to look for when I kidnap you?” his green eyes glimmer with wicked mischief.

  I can feel the blush come. Everything about this should have me running back to that bar, maybe order
ing another glass of wine to dull the intense feelings running through my body.

  “Take the picture, Astrid,” he says with an easy smile.

  I bite my lip, reading his face to see if he’s the least bit offended. His relaxed body and accommodating grin assure me that he isn’t.

  “Okay,” I say and dig around in my purse to find my phone. The ring is there, taunting me as it glints in the hint of sunlight that’s entered the purse. I push it down into the furthest corner, hoping Alexandre hasn’t noticed it, and grab the phone.

  “Aha,” I exclaim, almost breathless as I manage to pull it out.

  “Smile,” I say cheerfully, pointing the camera phone his way.

  The grin he gives me will do absolutely nothing to reassure my mother, the only person I can think to send it to. Everyone else is back home, and I’m not sure I can trust most of them to keep it from Bruce. The momentary bit of righteous satisfaction I feel at the thought of him finding out is quickly replaced by the icy dagger of fear at what would happen if he did. My finger taps on the button and the loud click pulls me out of those dangerous waters. I open the text app and send a message to my mother.

  Going on a boat ride with someone I met. Alexandre. I’ll be back in time for tonight. Photo below.

  I send it with his photo attached and pop my head back up to find him grinning at me.

  “Do you feel safe now?” he asks with one eyebrow raised.

  I laugh softly, but still jump when I hear the ding letting me know that Mom has just replied. I sneak a glance at it.

  What???

  It’s followed by bubble after bubble of questions, each more urgent than the last.

  Who is he??

  Where are you going???

  Call me. NOW!

  I push the button to turn off the phone before she thinks to just call me instead.

  Alexandre is still grinning at me.

  “Let’s go before she sends the police after us,” I say, rushing down the dock past him.

  He grabs my hand as I pass, pulling me back to his side. I turn to find him giving me a serious look for once. “You’ll be fine, Astrid. Just relax.”

  I exhale the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

  “There,” he says. “Don’t you feel better?”

  I laugh. “I suppose.”

  I squint up at him, liking the way his tanned face stares back down at me. A thought hits me, something I didn’t notice until now.

  “Are you from here? You don’t really have much of an accent and your English is flawless.”

  Instead of answering, an inscrutable look comes across his face.

  “It’s complicated,” he says eventually.

  Chapter Four

  Alexandre

  Astrid has started asking questions.

  She doesn’t seem entirely satisfied with the response, so I elaborate. “I spent the first thirteen years of my life in the United States.”

  Now, her expression hints at even more questions.

  “Let’s get going before the best part of the day leaves us,” I say, walking her toward the boat. “I’ll explain more later on.”

  Hopefully, by then her curiosity will have disappeared. The last thing I want are more questions. At least, not until I’ve gotten what I need from her.

  “Here we are,” I announce as we arrive at my motorboat.

  I turn to gauge her reaction. She seems almost relieved, as though she would have been disappointed if I’d led her up toward one of the bigger yachts.

  I bought this boat years ago for personal use. I liked the fact that it was small and, more importantly, inconspicuous. I’ve spent many a weekend in the Mediterranean, mooring it or anchoring it, visiting various lightly populated beaches without anyone giving me a second glance.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s perfect,” she says, giving me that bright smile of hers.

  I think back to her comment earlier. ‘A lot of women have no idea how much those things would really cost them.’

  I’m sure she wasn’t talking about money. I know better than anyone how ruthlessly vicious the world of wealth can be.

  I wonder what it’s cost Astrid.

  I help her in and, once she’s settled, I free the rope holding it to the dock, then jump in after her. Astrid has settled back in the seat next to me as I guide the boat slowly back. Her eyes are closed and she smiles up to the sun, enjoying the feel of the warm air. It’s a stunning picture, one that should be posted on advertisements for this amazing city. I try to keep my eyes focused on the boats around us to avoid hitting them, but they keep darting back to the half circle of tanned skin rising out of the top of her dress, or the rise of her breasts underneath the white fabric, or the sleek legs below the hem. It’s a cornucopia of erotic delights and my eyes are voraciously hungry.

  A smile comes to my face as I realize neither of us has a swimsuit. My plan was to visit one of several nude beaches and enjoy a swim au natural. There’s nothing like feeling the Mediterranean against your skin, completely unobstructed. I wonder if Astrid would be daring enough to join me.

  She squints one eye open, then the other. A smile creeps onto her face as though she is reading my mind. I simply grin back.

  Once I’ve cleared the way out, navigating my boat around the larger vessels, I speed up into the vast expanse of the Mediterranean. As we bounce across the waves, water splashing behind us, Astrid laughs with glee. It’s the perfect soundtrack to the day.

  Usually, I hate company while I go on these little adventures. That’s because usually, the company I’m with has an ulterior motive, commitment or maybe just “an arrangement.” Monaco is notorious for fortune hunters. For once, I’m with someone who simply wants the same thing I do: escape.

  I almost feel guilty about my plans. Almost.

  But that’s for later. I turn to Astrid with a smile, soaking up her happiness which is extremely contagious. As we go airborne over a particularly large wave we both shout out a surprised laugh.

  “This is amazing!” she yells over the roar of the engine, her hands in the air.

  I just smile into the distance, making a path to one of my favorite beaches which is a good twenty minutes away.

  Who says you can’t mix business with pleasure?

  “Are they naked?”

  I’ve attached the rope to one of the buoys floating near the beach. Here, the sunbathers are known for not bothering with swimsuits.

  Astrid leans over the edge of the boat peering at the tiny shore where about ten unclothed bodies lie on their sprawled towels.

  “It is optional,” I assure her.

  Her head spins to face me. Her eyes narrow with suspicion, but she can’t hide the smile that creeps to her lips. “Are you just trying to get me naked?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”

  Her smile deepens. “ No.”

  I flash a smile in response.

  “And if I decide to stay on the boat?”

  “Then you would miss the opportunity to experience the Mediterranean the way it should be experienced,” I say, removing my shirt.

  Astrid sits back and observes me with her arms crossed over her chest.

  I laugh to myself as I lean down to remove my shoes. When I pull back up she’s still staring at me, but I can see her eyes widen as I reach down to the button of my jeans.

  “You’re going to…are you going to…?” she sputters as she sees that I have nothing on underneath except my black boxer briefs.

  I give her a considering look, watching the rise and fall of her chest. “There’s no one here to judge you, Astrid. Why not indulge? After all, isn’t the point of life to live as adventurously as possible?”

  Something in her face falters and I can see in her eyes that I’ve hit a button somewhere. I grin, encouraging that thought.

  “Last chance to turn your head,” I warn her with one eyebrow raised provocatively.

  She drops her gaze a
nd begins to quickly turn her head around before stopping herself. Instead, she brings it back around to stare at me with her chin slightly lifted, as though insulted that I should even ask.

  I just shrug and hook my thumbs into the waistband of my underwear, rushing them down my thighs in one quick move. My dick springs out, not quite recovered from the vision of her back at the marina, but also not quite showing off its full potential.

  I’m pleased, but not surprised, by the noticeable exhale I’m rewarded with. Everything I’ve earned in life has been a result of making a deal with the devil. Perhaps this was his—or her?—way of giving me that final cherry on top. Heaven knows I’ll pay for it all when I’m dead.

  Astrid shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes going back and forth between my dick and my face, or the sea behind me, or the wheel of the boat. What I have to offer is impressive, but this reaction is a bit much.

  “You act as though you’ve never seen one before,” I tease, with a grin.

  Her eyes fly up to mine with something approaching alarm. “Of course I have,” she says…a bit too quickly, her face coloring enough to beat out the tan.

  Ahhh….

  It hits me instantly, but I make sure it doesn’t show on my face. Instead, my eyes trail over her body. She’s twenty-one, which isn’t terribly old for not having had sex, but I know for a fact she’s been in a long-term relationship. How has that idiot managed to avoid succumbing to this temptation?

  I can’t decide if this complicates things or makes it easier for me.

  “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll see you in the water,” I say, before falling backward over the edge with a splash.

  Chapter Five

  Astrid

  I watch him fall over the edge of the boat and my body relaxes. It wasn’t just seeing him naked. Actually, it was mostly that. My god, it was…something.