Baiting Him (How to Catch an Alpha 2)

He smiles, shaking his head, and then his expression shifts. His eyes leave mine, and he leans back, taking in my exposed skin inch by inch. I watch him watch me as he slowly starts to slide free, and my core contracts in protest, liking him just where he is. I don’t even attempt to close my legs, and his eyes flare while his strong jaw clenches.

I can’t remember a time I’ve been more exposed, yet I don’t feel self-conscious. All I feel are the delicate threads of desire moving between us, and that makes me feel powerful and adored rather than worried about the slight pooch of my stomach, my full hips, or the hundred other things I don’t like about my body.

“I seriously wish I was the kind of man who’d be okay with you lying just like this while an artist painted you, but I know I’d have to kill him for seeing you this way,” he tells me while skimming his hands up my thighs and the curve of my waist before stopping to cup both my breasts. His possessive words should not have the effect they do, but there’s no denying my nipples pebbling under his palms or the fresh wave of heat that settles between my legs. “You’re beautiful.”

His gorgeous eyes meet mine, and I melt into a puddle right there on my kitchen counter. He slips his arms around my back and drags me up against him, and once we’re face to face, he lowers his head and kisses me softly. He takes his time to explore my mouth while his hands slide my kimono up over my shoulders, then skim down to tie the belt around my waist. Once I’m covered, he kisses me one last time and pulls away, examining my face for a moment before he steps back to drag up his boxers and slacks, zipping the zipper but leaving the button and his belt undone. “I’ll be back. I need to go take care of this condom.” He brushes his lips over mine, then disappears.

Alone with my thoughts, I wrap my arms around my waist and tip my head back to stare at the ceiling. I didn’t plan on having sex with Gaston so soon, but surprisingly, I’m not upset that it happened. There is something about our connection that makes me feel safe and desired. I shake my head, wondering what it is about him that puts me at ease. Normally, this kind of situation would freak me out and I’d be finding an excuse to get up and go to my room right now, hoping the guy would take the hint and leave. For once, I don’t want to run, and I for sure don’t want him to leave.

“You okay?” I feel a hand on my thigh, and I jump.

“Yeah, I just totally spaced out,” I tell him, and he steps back between my legs, then reaches around me to get the coffee, handing me a cup before grabbing the paper bag. I take a sip, surprised it’s just how I like it—with lots of hazelnut creamer and extra sugar. “How did you know how I take my coffee?”

He smiles. “I saw your creamer in the fridge when I made dinner, and I notice you have a sweet tooth, so I guessed you’d want extra sugar.”

“Wow, that’s really observant.” I take another sip.

“Have I told you I’m a little obsessed with you?”

“Are you?” My heart pounds, and I wonder if this is actually just a really great dream, because it seems impossible that he’s as into me as I am him.

“Oh yeah,” he says as he sets his cup next to my hip, then unearths two breakfast sandwiches wrapped in white paper before placing one next to his cup. My stomach growls again loudly, and he smiles as he unwraps a toasted, flaky croissant with eggs, bacon, and cheese peeking from the middle. I take it from him, not caring even a little about the amount of mess I’m about to make as I sink my teeth in. It’s delicious, and I can’t help the groan of approval my throat makes as I chew.

He grins, and then before he takes a bite from his own sandwich, he asks, “When do you have to leave for work?”

I look around his shoulder to see the clock on the wall across the room as I take another bite. I would normally be leaving in about twenty minutes, but like him, I’m my own boss, so no one is expecting me. And even the baking I need to do this morning can wait. “In about an hour.”

“So you have time,” he says before taking a sip from his coffee.

“Time for what?”

“A shower.”

Him naked in my shower with suds running down his toned physique is something I for sure have time to witness, and even if I don’t, I’ll make time. I think I might be evicted from the girls’ club if I don’t. “I think I might be able to fit another shower into my morning schedule.”