The Wrong Man (Alpha Men 3)

“Yes, I do so enjoy a good, meaningless hookup,” he said in response to her previous comment. “And I hope that after our raunchy encounters, you now appreciate the merits thereof as well.”

In his very proper English accent, everything he said sounded ever so decent—until the words sank in. That was when she felt her cheeks heat up like a furnace. She hated blushing, she knew it made her look like a blotchy teen, but for some reason Sam Brand could make her light up like a beacon. It was ridiculous.

“Any time you want to revisit the sexy times with me, Lia . . .”

“That won’t happen,” she interrupted primly.

“Just thought I’d put it out there,” he said with an unrepentant smile.

“I have to get home; my parents must be wondering where I am.” She instantly regretted the words when his eyes widened in bemusement.

“Your parents? You live at home?”

“Not for long,” she said self-consciously, but instead of staring at her like she was some kind of freak, a roguish grin lit up his wicked face.

“God, you just added another illicit element to that already sexy button-down librarian schoolmarm thing you’ve got going. Can you sneak me into your room for a make-out session while your parents are watching telly downstairs?”

Her jaw dropped, and he winced.

“Yeah, that’s borderline deviant behavior, isn’t it? Still, you’re the walking answer to every man’s forbidden prayer. All you have to do is tell me you went to Catholic school and were considering becoming a nun and I swear I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Ugh, I’m leaving. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, princess. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

Lia made her way to the stairs but paused on the landing to look back at him. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her.

“Do you need anything before I leave? Something from the kitchen, perhaps?”

“A good-night kiss?” The lilt in his voice was so ridiculously hopeful that Lia couldn’t bring herself to work up any kind of anger at the suggestion.

“I doubt you’ll find one of those in the kitchen,” she said, and he laughed.

“Tuck me in?”

“’Night, Brand,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. Then, because boundaries were important, she felt obligated to remind, “And remember our agreement, no funny business. Asking for a kiss qualifies as funny business.”

“Sorry, princess, it won’t happen again. I’m just loopy after taking my pain meds. Send me a text when you get home safely so that I’ll know not to send in the cavalry to come rescue you.”

“Will do.” He smiled at her response.

“Good night, Lia.”

Sam woke up with a headache, a healthy appetite, and a huge hard-on. Dreams of Lia McGregor had definitely contributed to today’s top-quality morning wood and were probably also at fault for the terrible headache pounding away beneath his skull. He hadn’t slept very soundly—the constant dreams of Lia under him, over him, next to him, her mouth on him, her hands stroking and petting his body, had startled him awake throughout the night. And his frustration at finding himself alone in bed hadn’t helped the situation.

He’d finally resorted to a hands-on session just before dawn. Most unsatisfying wank of his life. His left hand couldn’t quite master the technique or grip—it was either too weak or too strong—and the whole experience had left him feeling irritated and unsated.

He stretched, groaned, and cracked open a sticky eyelid, confirming that it was indeed light outside. Something smelled amazing. He sniffed at the air . . . that was definitely bacon. Fully awake now, he pushed himself out of bed and limped his way over to the loft’s waist-high glass wall. Lia was bustling around the kitchen, the bright morning sunlight catching the warm auburn notes in her dark-brown hair. From his vantage point high up in Mason’s clever aerie, he could watch her unobserved for a few long moments. She really was pretty, with her expressive, thickly lashed gray eyes set beneath perfectly arched eyebrows. Her soft, full lips had a slight upward tilt that gave one the impression she was always on the verge of smiling, which contrasted sharply with the underlying sadness he sometimes glimpsed in her luminous eyes. High cheekbones and a delicate chin completed the pretty picture, and while she wasn’t a raving beauty, her prettiness had a wholesome charm, which was not something that usually appealed to Sam. His attraction to her definitely stemmed from her prim and proper personality. That unconscious aura of untouchability and perfect poise she presented to the world challenged him, and Sam was fundamentally incapable of backing down from a challenge.

Even now he felt everything in him tightening in anticipation of their next encounter. He found himself grinning like an idiot at the prospect of talking to her again, which was bound to be entertaining. It always was.