Bossy: An Alpha Collection

by Levine, Nina

  “Why are you here?”

  “To take you to dinner.”

  “I told you no.” He’d been trying to get me to agree to dinner all damn week. Saying no was proving harder each time.

  He didn’t reply to that but rather spread his feet a little wider and planted his body like he was settling in. Like he had no intention of taking a refusal from me.

  I knew this strategy of his. The first to talk would lose. So I too settled in, ready to make it very clear I never intended to say yes.

  We stood silently watching each other, duelling for the win. After thirty seconds, I worried about my chances of winning. I sucked at silence. And he knew this about me.

  I lasted another thirty seconds before saying, “We’re not going for dinner.” With that, I turned and stalked back to the office to grab my bag.

  Cleo looked up as I barged in. “Are you okay?”

  I snatched my bag up and shook my head. “No. I need to get out of here fast.” As she looked at me puzzled, I added, “Winter’s here trying to force me into a date.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect O. Waving me away, she said, “Okay, go. And let me know about your date after.”

  I nodded and headed back out of the office, intent on breezing past Winter and leaving him far, far behind. He, however, had other ideas. I ran smack bang into his hard chest as I exited the office.

  “Jesus,” I muttered, hands to his stomach, my gaze meeting his. “I have to leave, Winter. I have a date to get ready for.” I hadn’t intended on throwing that last part in because I didn’t really want to use it as a weapon against his forcefulness, but it slipped out before I could stop it.

  His body stilled; I felt it while my hands were still on him. “With the dickhead you mentioned the other night?”

  I dropped my hands. “The dickhead?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was gruff, his shoulders tense—I’d managed to throw him off. Hopefully enough so I could leave before we got into more of a conversation than we already had.

  “Patrick isn’t a dickhead. But I don’t have time to stand here and debate that.” I checked my watch. Totally didn’t need to, though. I still had plenty of time to get ready. “I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re not into this guy, Birdie.”

  Something about his tone or the way he said that pissed me off. “Oh really? And how do you know that?”

  “Everything about the way you are with me tells me that.”

  “God, you are so arrogant sometimes.”

  His eyes bored into mine, demanding something from me I didn’t have to give. The truth. “I just call shit like I see it.”

  “Yeah well, you see it wrong this time.”

  “No,” he said with complete conviction, “I don’t. But you go on that date, Angel. You try to convince yourself I’m wrong. I’ll still be here waiting for you when you realise I’m not.”

  I would. I’d make tonight’s date the most amazing date I’d ever been on. I’d bloody show Winter he was wrong. Surely I’d been wrong thinking Patrick was boring. I could totally make this work.

  “Don’t wait too long,” I said as I brushed past him. “I’d hate for you to die an old man all alone.”

  His chuckle was the last thing I heard as I left the studio. God, how I hated that chuckle. But damn if I didn’t love it too.

  I threw all my plans to prove Winter wrong out the window when I stood in front of my mirror assessing myself for the date. I’d put on a sexy little black dress and spent some time braiding the front of my hair before pulling it up into a high ponytail and teasing it to give it some height. Patrick had told me he liked it when I wore my hair like that, and I was going all out to get his full attention tonight.

  As I stood looking at myself, though, I realised I already had his attention. He’d made it more than clear how much he liked me. And there lay the problem—I wasn’t the kind of girl to lead a guy on.

  I couldn’t do that to him.

  So I called the date off. And after consuming half a tub of Turkish Delight ice cream while feeling sorry for myself, I decided I needed to talk this over with Carey. My brother always had good advice. I didn’t always agree with it at the time, but I usually saw the logic and wisdom when I thought it over later.

  That was why I found myself standing on Carey’s doorstep four hours after I’d left Winter at the studio.

  He answered the door and let me in with “This is gonna be fun.” I didn’t understand what he meant until I hit the lounge room and found Winter sitting on his couch sucking back some beer while watching me with an “I told you” smile.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Why did I come here?

  Why did I even think breathing would be a good idea today?

  “Jesus!” I threw my arms up in the air before throwing my bag on the couch and stomping into the kitchen. “I’m going to need some strong alcohol, Carey,” I called out as I went.

  “Bring the bottle of whisky back in here with you,” he called back. “I need more.”

  I eyed it on the counter the minute I entered the kitchen. I grabbed it along with a glass and stomped back out to the lounge room, ignoring Winter’s watchful gaze. Well, as best as I could, because I was having trouble not checking out the fitted black tee he wore. He hadn’t been wearing that this afternoon, which was both a shame and a relief. I’d never been able to resist him when he wore T-shirts that tight.

  Good God, Birdie, get your shit together, woman.

  I sat my ass down on the couch opposite Winter with an “Ugh, you drive me fucking crazy,” while looking him directly in the eye.

  His eyes twinkled with more of that goddam amusement he liked to send my way, and he threw some more beer down his throat before saying, “The feeling is mutual, Angel, but for the record, I may also be enjoying this a little too much.”

  I poured myself some whisky, not even bothering to ask Carey if he wanted some, and muttered, “I believe that,” before drinking half of what I’d poured. “And for the record, you are arrogant.”

  “I’ll own that,” he said, “but I’m also right. Don’t forget that.”

  I emptied the glass and refilled it straight away. “I’ll tell you what you are. You’re presumptuous, cocky, and too fucking smug about some things.” I drank more whisky. “And just so you know, women don’t like those things.” I emptied the glass again as a nice buzz settled in.

  Carey stood. “Fuck, I’ll leave you two alone so you can get this shit out of your system.” He eyed me. “If I’m correct in my assumption that you came here to discuss Winter, my advice is that you should just give in now because it’s clear as fuck to me that you’re still in love with him.”

  I stared after him as he left the room.

  Worst. Brother. Ever.

  I poured another whisky and downed that fucker in one long gulp.

  “What happened with the date, Birdie?”

  I placed my glass on the coffee table. Ignoring Winter’s question, I asked, “Why are you here?”

  “Carey and I have been catching up. Why are you avoiding my question?”

  Still ignoring his question, I said, “You can’t just come back into our lives and pick right back up where you were, Winter. Life doesn’t work like that.”

  He drank some beer. “Yeah, it does. If you want it to, it does.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Why are you so intent on keeping me out of your life?”

  My mind went straight to the reason and my insides knotted with stress as I thought about it. For a second, I contemplated what life would look like if I told him.

  He’d hate me.

  He’d leave me alone and I’d be able to get back to my life.

  He’d also break in more ways than he already had when I left him. And that wasn’t something I could do to him.

  “I’m not. I’m just—”

  “You are. And I want to know why.”


  I needed to divert this conversation because as much as he thought he wanted to know this, he didn’t. In an effort to do that, I blurted, “Why did you join Storm?”

  He was silent for a beat. Thoughtful. Like he was weighing up whether to go down this path with me. Finally, he settled back against the couch and downed the rest of his beer before saying, “I had to take my mind off you somehow.”

  Not what I was expecting, his admission totally stole all my thoughts. Gone. Whoosh.

  God.

  Why did I ask that question?

  I needed another drink.

  I poured it in silence, hyperaware of his eyes on me. It would be a miracle if we made it through tonight without having a huge fight or having sex. I felt both brewing.

  After another gulp of whisky, I found his eyes again and said, “I get that, but I don’t believe you joined an MC club simply because of me.” For the life of me, I didn’t know why I continued this conversation, but I was like a moth to a flame with it. With him. When he stole all my thoughts, he also stole all my sense.

  “I didn’t join it because of you, Birdie, but I was a fucking wreck after you left, and the club was a good place to help me forget.” He paused for a moment. “Not that I ever forgot. No one forgets you.”

  I slowly drank some more whisky. The mood between us had shifted. Darker. An edge had crept into Winter’s voice. One I didn’t know and was unsure of.

  “I think we’re done here,” I said, standing. I’d get an Uber home and forget tonight ever happened.

  Before I knew what was happening, Winter stood and came my way. Grasping my hand, he stopped me, and with more of that darker, edgier side, he growled, “We’re not even close to done here.”

  8

  Winter

  * * *

  I’d let Birdie go each day this week when she’d told me no, but I’d be fucked if I let her go tonight. Not after learning she’d cancelled that date of hers. She could lie to my face about her feelings for me, but ditching that dickhead tonight was a sign that even she couldn’t ignore.

  Grabbing her hand, I held it firmly enough to signal my intention, and said, “We’re not even close to done here.”

  She sucked in a breath as her eyes widened. “Winter,” she started but stalled before more words found their way out.

  I placed a finger to her lips, silencing those words. “Talk to me, Angel. You never had trouble doing that before.” Hell, Birdie was a talker; I’d sat through thousands of conversations with her, half the time wondering why we were discussing a particular topic. She questioned everything, from whether we’d end up together in our afterlife, to what I thought would have happened to a couple in a movie if they’d chosen a different path, to why yoghurt container sizes weren’t rounded up to the closest even number. But I’d always listened because she held my attention in ways no one else ever had.

  Silence lingered between us while I waited for her response. The turmoil in her eyes showed me the battle going on in her head. Whatever held her back had a firm grip.

  Finally, the words spilled from her. “There’s stuff you don’t know that happened before we broke up. Stuff that you—”

  “That was five years ago. Whatever it was has no bearing on today.”

  A pained expression filled her face. “But it does.”

  “You told me you didn’t cheat on me and I believe you. That’s my only hard limit. I don’t give a fuck what else happened that you think would stop us from being together. Life’s too short and most of the stuff everyone gets hung up on doesn’t mean shit when all is said and done. I just want to be with you. End of story.” Afghanistan had left too much of a mark on me to worry about half the things I used to. Fuck, people were losing their lives in wars they never asked for while we were over here getting hung up on petty shit. I’d come home determined to let it all go and just focus on loving Birdie every second of every day. Living without her for the past five years had been hell; there wasn’t anything that would keep me from her now.

  She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, she grasped my shirt with both hands. “Do you really think two people can love each other forever regardless of all the baggage they accumulate over the years?”

  “Yes, if they work at it and if they’re committed to letting shit go that’s not worth holding onto. And, baby, when two people love each other the way we did, there’s not fucking much worth holding onto.”

  She let go of my shirt and pressed her palms to my stomach, slowly sliding them around my side as her body leaned closer to mine. “I want to believe that. I really do, but—”

  “No,” I growled, feeling how close we were to her admitting what she truly wanted. “We’re not doing buts, Birdie.” I snaked my arm around her waist and pulled her flush against me. “Stop denying how much you want me, how much you want us.” Without giving her another second to think about this, I dropped my lips to hers and showed her how much I needed her.

  Fuck, Birdie was made for me. I loved the hell out of her mind and her soul, but when we came together like this, we were fire. I lost myself in her, every damn time.

  She didn’t resist me like she had been. Instead of resisting, she gave me a piece of herself, the piece I’d been pushing for. Instead of forcing me away, she clung to me like I was giving her life. Instead of fighting, she surrendered.

  Birdie needed me as much as I did her. It was right there in her kiss, in her touch, in her long deep sigh.

  Carey took that moment to come back, interrupting us with, “I’m heading out, but by the looks of it, you two won’t care.”

  Birdie dragged her mouth from mine to acknowledge him with a nod. I met his gaze with a lift of my chin while keeping Birdie firmly against me. If she took this opportunity to walk away, I’d lay down the fucking law—no wasn’t an answer I’d take. Not after that kiss. Turned out I didn’t have to worry. As soon as Carey exited the house, she picked right back up where we’d left off.

  It was like a switch had been flipped in Birdie’s mind, and after pushing me away all this time, she was now unable to keep her hands and mouth off me. As she pressed herself against me, I reached down and lifted her. Those legs of hers I could never get enough of wrapped around my body like they’d never forgotten me.

  With my lips firmly glued to hers, I walked us into Carey’s spare bedroom and deposited her on the bed. She watched as I removed my T-shirt, her hungry eyes tracking every movement I made.

  “Holy shit,” she murmured as I undid the button on my jeans. Sitting up, she traced a tattoo on my chest. Eyes to mine, she said, “You put me there?”

  I didn’t need to ask which tattoo she was talking about. It was the bird on my heart. Her.

  Running a finger down her cheek, I nodded. “I was always coming back for you, Angel. You were always the one.”

  The air turned thick with emotions as she stared up at me with a look I wanted to see every day of my life. It was love and desire and adoration. It was everything I’d wanted for the past five years. Fuck, it was all I ever needed in my life to be a happy man.

  She moved off the bed, raw need blazing from her as she undid my jeans. Practically panting, she said, “What the fuck are we doing?” before kissing me and shoving my jeans down. She didn’t give me a chance to answer that question, but I had no intention of doing that anyway. As far as I was concerned, what we were doing was what we should have been doing every day for the past five years. It was what we should never have stopped doing.

  As she undressed me, I reached for the zip on the back of her dress. She’d turned up in the shortest black dress fucking known to man. It had taken every ounce of willpower in me to stay on the couch and simply watch her when all I wanted to do was get my hands all over her.

  The dress hit the floor and she frantically ripped her bra off while I discarded her panties. I’d imagined this reunion with her a million times and had always thought I’d draw it out, rediscovering her body slowl
y. I hadn’t taken into account that five years without each other meant we were both desperate for this. That waiting even one second longer to get inside her felt like waiting an eternity.

  Our naked bodies came together and her hands met my skin. “There’s barely an inch of you not inked,” she said, her gaze roaming over me.

  She was right.

  I’d had only three tattoos when we broke up. The last five years had been filled with shit designed to take my mind off her; inking my skin was part of that. But now was not the time for her to discover my ink; now was the time for me to remind her of how good we were together.

  “Angel, enough talking. I need my mouth on you, and the only thing I wanna hear while I fuck you with my tongue is you telling me how fucking much you missed me.”

  Heat flared in her eyes right before her lips came to mine again in a frenzy of passion. Fuck, I wanted her like this every day. She was all hands and mouth and need. Wild and abandoned.

  “I don’t think I can wait,” she panted when she tore her mouth from mine. Reaching for my dick, she stroked it a few times and added, “I want your mouth on me, but I want you inside me more.”

  Fuck.

  Her hand on my dick caused my brain to trip. Where I’d been laser-focused on tasting her a second ago, all I wanted now was to slam my dick into her and fuck any lingering doubt from her mind. Once I was finished with Birdie tonight, she wouldn’t be able to walk straight or think straight, except to know I was her man. I would fuck that understanding into her.

  The only thing my brain did manage to not trip over was the fact we needed a condom. I wanted Birdie in my life, but that wouldn’t be because a child connected us. Although I wanted a family with her, an unplanned pregnancy wouldn’t be how we started over. The kicker in this was that I didn’t have a fucking condom on me.

  “I don’t have a condom,” I said, regretting the hell out of this fact. “Do you?”

  “Shit. No.” She frowned, cocking her head. “Seriously? You don’t carry condoms?”