The Wrong Man (Alpha Men 3)

“You can’t like me,” she insisted. “Not really. You don’t even know me.”

“Sure I do, you’re my Miss Priss.” Sam didn’t know where the possessive pronoun came from, but it made him wince because she wasn’t his anything. He’d never considered any woman his.

Ever.

And he wasn’t about to start now.

He was starting to gain a new appreciation for these rules of hers. If it meant keeping things in perspective, he was all for it. Using a possessive pronoun in relation to a woman was dangerous. He needed to rein that shit in. Fast.

But seriously, the embargo on talking would have to go.

“I’m all for these rules of yours, they make sense, but you can’t expect us not to talk. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t see the point of banning casual conversation. I’m an awesome guy, I’ll give you that,” he said, knowing his lack of modesty would get a smile out of her. She fought against it, but her lips quirked at the arrogant proclamation. “And many women in your position have displayed appalling lack of judgment and poor taste by falling in love with me. But you’re more intelligent than most of them, and the mere act of talking is not going to make you fall in love with me. Quite the opposite, probably. And trust me, I’ve spoken to many, many women and I haven’t fallen in love with a single one of them. And I’m not about to start now.”

“Don’t worry, Brand, there’s no danger of me falling in love with you, either, that’s not what concerns me . . . it’s the intimacy. It would feel too much like a relationship. And it can become confusing. I’d like things to remain clear-cut and uncomplicated between us.”

“Want to keep me firmly in the fuck buddy category, do you? I can respect that. But even though I’m only a booty call, so to speak, you still have to spend some time with me outside of bed. And I’ll be damned if I’ll sit in silence when we’re in the car, or sharing a meal, or with your family.”

She was quiet as she mulled over his words, a cute little furrow coming and going between her brows.

“What about keeping things friendly but casual?” Sam suggested.

“No personal conversations?”

“What constitutes a personal conversation?” he asked. She stared down at her half-eaten meal and prodded the remaining pasta with her fork. Absently playing with her food while she considered his question.

“Questions about previous relationships, maybe?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“Statement?” The questioning lilt at the end of the word made him grin.

“Okay, what else?”

“I don’t know. If it feels inappropriate, I’ll let you know that it’s out of bounds.”

“Seems fair.” He watched her push her food around her plate for a while longer. “You going to finish that?”

“I think I’m done,” she said, meeting his eyes without hesitation.

“Yeah?” he breathed, his eyes dropping to her mouth, and he dragged his chair closer to hers. “Well, I’m just getting started.”

It was the last thing either of them said for a very long while.

Sam awoke when he felt Lia carefully extricating herself from his arms and climbing out of bed. He frowned and opened his eyes to watch her fumble around in the dimly lit room for her clothes. Once again she made her way to the bathroom to dress, and he pushed himself up to glare at the frosted glass pocket door that led to the en suite.

Despite three intense—and extremely satisfying—sessions since dinner, he didn’t want her to leave. He had an insatiable appetite for Lia, and he would rather she stayed close while he worked it out of his system. He knew her hunger for him was equal to his own, and he didn’t understand why she limited their portions in this way. Didn’t she recognize that in doing so, she would only lengthen the duration of their fling?

She exited the bathroom, fully dressed, and stopped abruptly when she saw that he was awake.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Stay.”

“No. I can’t. It’s close to midnight. I don’t want my family to know about this. And if I’m here till all hours of the night, they’ll figure it out.”

“It’s none of their business. You can fuck whomever the hell you want.”

“They’ll be concerned.”

“Would they think I’m some rapey monster and you’re my innocent victim?”

“No, of course not. That’s not why they’d be concerned.”

“Why then?”

She hesitated, and Sam knew he was venturing into forbidden territory.

“Because of Clayton,” she finally admitted, shocking him by actually replying. “Because of how I was after the engagement ended. They’ll worry that when this ends, I’ll react in the same way.”

“How were you after the engagement ended?” he asked, and she smiled. The expression was both sweet and sad.

“That’s out of bounds,” she said, the words quiet, and Sam bit back his instinctive profane response.