The Wrong Man (Alpha Men 3)

God, the arrogance of the man.

“The other night was a mistake that I don’t want to compound by repeating.”

He sighed, his chest heaving with the exhalation of his breath.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, his voice light but his eyes serious.

“I do.” Did she? She knew she didn’t sound very certain.

“Do you?” He arched an eyebrow as he unwittingly repeated her own doubtful question. His hand, which had been a stationary, warm weight at her waist, shifted with whiplike speed to cup a breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra—the dress had its own corset sewn into the bodice—but that meant that he could feel the immediate tightening of her nipple in response to his touch. He smiled appreciatively, and they both watched his thumb lazily circling the hard peak of her breast before deliberately brushing against the eager nub. She angled her eyes up to his face, but he was wholly focused on what he was doing, his eyelids at half-mast, his mouth slightly open as his uneven breath sawed in and out of his chest.

She lifted her hand and pressed it against his, flattening it against her chest.

“Stop it. We can’t do that here,” she said, her voice thick with desire.

“My room?”

She hesitated for a split second longer before nodding recklessly.

“But we can’t leave together.” He was staying in the only hotel in town, and she was already picturing everybody in town seeing her follow him in there. The rumor mill would start working before they even got their clothes off.

“You think I’m going to let you leave here without me? And have you change your mind again? My balls get any bluer and they’ll freeze the fuck off.”

She couldn’t take him to her room. Not with her entire family in the yard for the wedding. Besides, it seemed wrong to do what they wanted to do in her childhood room. The thought gave her the heebie-jeebies.

That left . . .

“I know a place. Follow me,” she whispered. “Discreetly.”

“Oh God, Lia, what are you doing?” she whispered to herself five minutes later as she stood waiting for Sam to make his appearance. She was on the verge of changing her mind when the door creaked open and the distant lights of the marquee dimly lit the dark, stuffy interior of the quiet barn.

“Dahlia?”

“Here,” she called quietly. A cell phone light flickered on and swept around the area.

“Is this a barn?” he asked incredulously. A quiet whicker from the corner stall answered his question. “Are there actually horses in here?”

“Only one. That’s Kiki.”

“Kiki sounds like a bird’s name. A bizarre choice for a horse.” He sounded fascinated. He aimed the light directly in Lia’s face and then switched it off. Leaving her disoriented in the dark.

“My father named her, and he’s not great with names. How do you think my sisters and I got our names?”

“Dahlia’s a great name,” he said. His voice sounded much closer than before. She couldn’t see his face, but he sounded sincere.

“Said nobody ever,” she quipped and gasped when his arm snaked around her waist and he dragged her up against his hard body.

“This is so fucking clandestine and hot. I like it.”

Of course he would. She didn’t have time to respond because his mouth was on hers, blistering and eager and sinfully delicious. His spicy tongue forged its way into her mouth, and she was alarmed by the instant sense of familiarity she felt in response to it. Her own tongue welcomed the invading presence with appreciative strokes and he groaned, practically eating her alive. He backed her against the wooden fence of an empty stall, and his hands fumbled with the layers of silk and tulle in her skirt before they found the bare skin beneath. He cupped her bottom and squeezed, lifting her against his rock-hard erection. He ground against her mound, and she moaned in frustration because she couldn’t get close enough.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he hoisted her up until she took the hint and crossed her ankles behind his taut butt. When she was comfortably situated, his hands stopped kneading her behind and roamed up her slender back until they found the hook-and-eye fastening above the zipper. He fumbled with it ineptly, seeming clumsy for the first time since they met. She heard something tear and he swore viciously before burying his mouth in her neck and drawing her skin into his mouth.

“Oh.” Why was that sensation so unbearably pleasurable? His fingers finally drew the zipper of her dress halfway down her back and his hands flattened against the exposed skin he found there. Her bodice went slack and gaped in the front. He took full advantage of that fact, his mouth tracing kisses down to the mound of one breast before latching onto her nipple hungrily.

Lia keened, her fingers burying themselves in his short, thick hair and tugging on it almost viciously. Brand refused to relinquish his relentless, suctioning hold on her sensitive nipple, though, and Lia was practically giddy as the combination of pleasure and pain escalated almost unbearably. He was fumbling with the front of his trousers, and she felt the thick heat of his penis against the lace of her panties seconds later. He sawed up against her and the friction sent her sighing into her first orgasm of the night.