Baiting Him (How to Catch an Alpha 2)

It’s not the sex—which is beyond better than anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s just her. She makes me feel like I won the lottery every time I make her laugh. And when I laugh at something she does or says and she gets that pleased look on her face, like I’m giving her a gift, I don’t think I have ever seen anything more beautiful. I’ve never known a woman like her before, and I know I should count myself lucky I stumbled upon her.

When LeFou and I get back up to my condo, I let him off his leash, and he makes a beeline for the bedroom door, nudging it with his nose until he gets in. I enter the room behind him, watching him jump up on the bed, spin around, and then curl up at Chrissie’s feet. I change into a pair of sweats before I get into bed and wrap myself around her from behind, and then I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in.

“Gus?” she calls sleepily, threading her fingers between mine against her chest, and I smile at hearing my nickname coming from her for the first time.

“I’m here,” I tell her quietly, kissing the back of her head.

“What time is it?” she questions, letting my hand go so she can roll to face me.

“A little after ten.”

“Ten,” she whispers, sounding horrified as her body grows tight.

I ignore the tightness in her frame and draw her more firmly against me. “How are you feeling?”

“I fell asleep in the car. I . . . you were supposed to go to work,” she states, ignoring my question before adding, “I should go home. I’m sure you need to leave.”

When she attempts to pull away, I roll her to her back and loom over her. “Work’s covered. Now tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Gaston.” She places her hands against my chest.

“How are you feeling?”

“Um. Hungry,” she answers, sounding unsure.

I smile, touching my lips to her forehead. “What do you want to eat?”

“Pizza.”

“All right.” I let her go with one hand, then reach behind me to grab my cell. I pull up the number for the pizza spot down the street, then ask, “What do you want on your pizza?”

“Cheese.”

“Just cheese?”

“Yeah.”

I press dial, and when someone answers, I place our order, then give them the address and number for my place. They tell me it will be about forty minutes; then I hang up. “We have forty minutes before dinner is here.”

“If you have to work, I can—”

“Stop.” I cut her off, placing my weight more firmly against her. “I’m here. I want to be here.”

“Okay,” she breathes as her hands move up my sides, then come to rest against my chest. “I just feel bad that you’re here with me instead of focusing on your business.”

“Do I look like I’m annoyed that I get the opportunity to spend time with you?”

“Well . . .” She studies my face for a moment before answering. “No.”

“That’s because I’m not,” I tell her, brushing my lips against hers before I lean back. “Now, as I mentioned, we have forty minutes before your pizza gets here, so it’s up to you how we spend that time.”

“What are my options?” she asks as she glances quickly at my mouth, and I fight back a smile.

“We can either make out”—I touch my lips to hers again, because I can’t help myself—“or we can talk about what happened earlier?”

“Make out,” she replies instantly, with her voice pitching higher.

I slide my fingers down the side of her face and gentle my tone. “I know that man was your dad and that the woman with him was his wife.” Her fingers dig into my flesh as I speak. “You can talk to me, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Your options weren’t really options, were they?”

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head.

“Chrissie.” I sigh in disappointment.

“No, I mean he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even notice me when I saw him in the market. His attention was focused on her like she was his whole world. A bomb could have gone off, and neither of them would have noticed.” She closes her eyes, but I see the tears she’s trying to hide. “He looked happy. All the years growing up with him, I don’t remember him ever looking that happy, and I don’t know how I never noticed before.”

“That caught you off guard, so you ran?” I question, sliding my thumb across her cheek as a single tear slides from underneath her lashes. I capture it on my thumb before she nods, keeping her eyes closed.

“I was . . .” She drags in a shaky breath, then opens her eyes to peer at me. “I had to get away. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t face the two of them together.”