His Alone (For Her 2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Paige

* * *

MY PHONE BUZZES in my bag, and I lean down to grab it. It’s Monday, and Captain and I are back at work. He’s been giving me glances all day that have me squirming in my seat, so I wonder if he’s decided to send me a dirty text.

I’m surprised when I see Patrick’s name on the screen. With everything that’s happened lately, I’d completely forgotten about him. I feel like an asshole for not getting in touch when I said I would. I slide my thumb on the screen and read his text.

Patrick: Hey, Paige. It’s a long shot, but I wanted to see if you were free for lunch today. We can meet at the same coffee shop as last time, if that will work. Maybe around noon?

Normally Captain and I have lunch with our team or alone. But I always eat with Captain. Now that things between Captain and me are serious, I don’t see a way around not inviting him along. I walk over to his desk and lean my hip against it. His eyes travel down my tight black top to my black-and-gold palazzo pants. I’ve got on my gold Dior stilettos that Captain fucked me in before we left my apartment this morning. When his eyes land on them, I see an eyebrow rise, and I know he’s thinking about it, too. I feel a pool of warm liquid swirl around the lower half of my body, and I have to clear my throat to concentrate on what I’m saying.

“Eyes up here, sailor.”

Captain leans back in his seat and puts his hands behind his head. This makes his dress shirt stretch across his muscles and chest, and fuck, I want to straddle his lap.

“I wasn’t in the navy, but if you want to pretend, I’d gladly welcome you aboard.” He spreads his thighs a little, and I roll my eyes at his lame joke.

“Later. Right now I need to ask you a favor, and before you say yes, I need you to agree to all the terms.” I narrow my eyes at him, and he crosses his arms. “I want to have lunch with my friend Patrick. Simmer down,” I say, when I see him open his mouth. “I want you to come with me, but I need you to play nice.”

“Oh, I’m going,” Captain says.

“I literally just asked you to go. What I need you to do is be nice. Patrick was an old friend of mine, and I want to catch up. I’m not saying I want you two to be besties, but I would appreciate the support. Think you can handle that?”

“Yes.”

He agrees too fast, and it makes me skeptical. “You promise? No alpha bullshit chest-beating?”

He uncrosses his arms and stands up, looking down at me. Even with my skyscraper heels, he’s still a head taller, and I have to admit it’s intimidating.

“You like it when I do my alpha bullshit.”

I audibly swallow and feel my pulse move to the juncture between my legs. No matter how much I try to deny it, he’s right. The shit turns me on like crazy. But that doesn’t mean I have to tell him so.

“I like it when you give me what I want. And I want to go to lunch at noon with Patrick.” He huffs, and I place my hands on his chest. “And I want you by my side. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I reach up and playfully smack the side of his cheek and turn to walk away. I can feel his eyes on my ass, and I walk with a little more bounce in my step than normal to tease him. I don’t know why I love pushing his buttons, but it’s truly the greatest pastime of all.

When I get to my desk, I text Patrick back.

Me: Sounds great. Hope you don’t mind, but I’m bringing my boyfriend.

I feel silly typing “boyfriend,” but I guess that’s what Captain is. Patrick texts back a thumbs-up emoji almost instantly. I look over at Captain, and of course he has his eyes on me, so I open my desk drawer and take out a lollipop.

When I pop it in my mouth and suck on the end, he looks like he could spit nails. His grip tightens on his desk, and I wink at him, turning back to my computer screen. I love making that big man suffer.

*

BY THE TIME lunch rolls around, I’ve eaten no less than five lollipops to torture Captain. When it’s time to leave, he comes over to my desk and jerks the candy out of my hand and throws it in the trash.

“Let’s go before I take you in the bathroom and spank your little ass.”

“Promises, promises,” I say, grabbing my bag and brushing past him. I make sure he feels the curve of my ass against his crotch, and I swear I hear him curse under his breath.