Alphas Like Us (Like Us 3)

I breathe, trying to reorient my senses. My hand encases his jaw, smooth from a close shave. And I blink and only see his tough forest-greens.

He’s searching for the intense focus in my eyes. I’m sure it’s flickering in and out.

Camera flashes still shade us. A sinking realization: I can’t drive Maximoff to safety.

All I want to do is drive us somewhere else, someplace else, and I’m certain Maximoff wishes he could do the same.

With another breath, I take what limitations I’m given, and I’m going to work with them. My heartbeat rides a rocky rollercoaster, rising and falling in rapid succession. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” I whisper to Maximoff. “I’m going to climb in the backseat—”

“I’m coming with you.”

I almost smile. “That is the plan.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “You’ll need to call security. Tell Bruno he has to drive.”

“I will.”

Before I go anywhere, I hone in on his pain. I pull at the collar of his crew-neck to check his traps. The muscle is inflamed and swollen. He needs ice.

Maximoff’s hand descends to my neck, and while he dials security, he continues to search my eyes.

30

FARROW KEENE

“There’s no way to swing this in your favor,” our publicist says over the phone. Speaker on, I listen to her talk to Maximoff. “It looks bad. It will continue to look bad. You should have thought about the repercussions before you took a midnight flight to a private villa in Mykonos.”

I comb a hand through my dyed white hair, and Maximoff exchanges an irked look with me. Kendra isn’t one of my favorite people, and as much as we’re on a final straw with her, she’s definitely on the last one with us. In most instances, we’ve chosen to take the media backlash, every hit, rather than sideslip away from it.

And the mud slung at me stings a little bit this time.

Farrow Keene Quit His Residency to Vacation with the Hale Family in Tahiti

The trending headline is not even close to the truth.

Shaded underneath pergolas, Maximoff sits rigidly on the wicker barstool, cool wind whipping his dark-brown hair. I slice a pineapple on the bar counter behind him. Our views from the villa are endless blues, the Aegean Sea serene and breathtaking, contrasting the paparazzi shit storm we left behind in the States.

Maximoff raises his phone to his lips. “Kendra,” he says. “You don’t need to come up with a manifestation on the meaning of the universe. Just send out a press release and explain that Farrow had to quit because he was a distraction in the hospital. That’s it.”

“It won’t help,” Kendra says. “But I’ll do it.” She hangs up abruptly.

“That was rude.” I bite into a sickly sweet pineapple slice. “On her part, not yours.” I lick my thumb.

Maximoff eyes my smooth movements. “I can’t blame her.” He places his phone on the bar. “This is the third press release in less than two weeks.”

“It’s her job,” I point out, and I skim his taut muscles. “Regretting this trip?” I don’t want him to wish we stayed back. I’d love nothing more than for Maximoff to take pleasure in every moment of this vacation.

No one else is in our private villa. We arrived five days earlier than the rest of his family, and the plan is to meet up with them later on their yacht, cruising around the Med.

Fancy shit doesn’t compare to being with Maximoff. Just here. Now, and I want to give him the most romantic getaway that he’s never had before. For five days, no kids running around, no siblings to worry about, and no meltdowns he needs to clean up.

All of that mayhem, which we both love to face head-on together, will come later.

“No, no regret,” Maximoff says strongly, standing up and swinging his right arm slowly like a pendulum. He’s allowed to stretch now, and he’ll do this fifty-five times a day.

As long as he’s not doubled-over in pain or puking, I’m in his camp.

He asks me, “Do you?”

I stare up at the baby blue sky, tilting my head from side-to-side. “Never.” I eat another slice of pineapple and twirl the knife between my fingers, staking the blade in the cutting board. I almost start laughing at how much he’s staring at my movements. “You’re too easy.”

“You’re easier than me,” he counters. “I saw you checking me out.”

I smile into an actual laugh. Since we’ve been in Greece, only for five hours so far, I’ve made no effort to hide my attraction to Maximoff. Even if Wolf Scout’s ego could be brought down a couple pegs. “You are my boyfriend.”

My love.

He tries hard not to smile, and his brows bunch. “I could just be a figment of your imagination. Maybe I’m not even real. Maybe you’re not real.”

My brows spike with a barbell piercing. “He wants us to be imaginary together.” I smile wider off his grimace, and I give him a hot once-over.

His form-fitting sunset-orange swim briefs display the cut and carve of lean muscles and mold his assets. But it’s his tough-as-hell confidence that magnifies his beauty, and there are times where I catch him shutting his eyes and soaking up the sun.

When he’s at peace, the entire world seems to still.

I come around the bar, and his gaze glides down the ink along my muscles. My black trunks are above-the-knee length, the fabric looser than his bathing suit.

Swiftly, I cup his face with both hands, and his chest elevates in a heady breath. “You feel very real to me, wolf scout.”

His hands ascend my abs, and he glances at the crystal clear pool behind us. Looking back to me, he says, “No paparazzi. No one knows we’re in Greece. It’s all private.”

I drink in the way he’s staring at me. As though I’m the only man on Earth, the only person he’d ever choose in the beginning and the end. And I toss his words around in my mind, figuring out what he’s leading me towards. “You want to walk around naked outside?”

“Kind of,” he says.

“Kind of?” I repeat.

“Maybe.”

“Getting clearer.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I want to.”

I love a good surprise, and Maximoff wanting to experience this uninhibited act is a surprise to me. I drop my hands off him, and I finger the waistband of my swim trunks.

Maximoff tries to beat me at this, drawing down his orange briefs quickly. He steps out of them in under a second. Buck-naked outdoors. With so much confidence you’d think he does this every Monday.

“This is your first time doing this?” I ask to be sure, pulling off my trunks.

Maximoff watches me. “Yeah. First time.”

And he chose me to be here for it. Time and time again. He could’ve picked anyone in the entire world, and he wanted me. My chest rises. That feeling never gets old.

Maximoff suddenly sprints to the pool and dives in a perfect gorgeous arc. But he tucks his right arm to his chest. I’m right behind him, diving into the cool water.

When I breach the surface, we find each other. Our legs lacing, wet beads rolling down our faces—

Chiming.

That noise abruptly cuts into the moment. Must be text messages. I set my phone to silent when we reached the villa, so it’s not mine.

“Answering those?” I ask him.

“No. It’s just family group chats.” He guides us towards the corner of the pool. “They’re probably talking about that article.” He leans in to kiss me—

Chiming. Again.

And again.

Maximoff rolls his head back in aggravation, and then glowers at the phone that vibrates next to the plate of pineapple. “Ignore it,” he tells me, water lapping around us as we move.

“I am,” I say. “A lot better than you are.” My shoulder blades hit the stone edge, this end of the pool about eight-feet deep, and I cup his ass while he’s up against my chest.

He rakes his hand through his wet hair. “Pretty sure I’m not even thinking about it anymore.”

&n

bsp; More chimes.

Now pings.

He’s forcing himself to keep eye contact and not glance at his phone.

My smile stretches. “Want the gold star now or later?”

“Never.”

That was a firm never. As much as I like stoking his irritation, I’d rather train his concentration off the relentless chimes and pings, and also several beeps. The disturbance is really grating Maximoff and not in a good way.

At the corner of the pool, I hoist myself out of the water and take a seat on the stone edge. While I lean back on my hands, his mouth parts.

I’m exposed, beads of water dripping down my inked body and hot sun beating on my skin.

And I ask him, “What’s your favorite tattoo of mine? And if you say none, then I’ll just think you’re copping out.”

Maximoff is staring off into space.