Alphas of Seduction

by Victoria Blue

  “Have you replied to Ben’s text yet?”

  “No. I called you first. Wanted to strategize about what I should say.”

  “Well, whatever you do, ask him for a current photo. You know, so you’ll be sure to recognize him at the bar tonight, seeing as how it’s been so damned long. And then send me that photo right away or I’ll cut you.”

  “Will do. Okay. I’m gonna text him now.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  We hang up and I tap out a text to Ben, smiling from ear to ear as I do.

  Hi, Ben! Great to hear from you! Congrats on your new job and move to LA! Hey, sorry to ask, but will you do me a favor and shoot me a recent selfie? I’ve devirginized so many Aussies in my pup tent during camping trips with my brother and his friends in Coconino, I’m not positive I’m remembering the right hot Aussie. Thanks!

  Three little jiggling dots immediately appear under my message. I wait, holding my breath, an anticipatory smile on my lips, and finally, Ben’s response appears on my screen.

  Here you go. I’m in the middle of a workout at the gym, hence the reason I’m sweaty and shirtless. But I gotta figure seeing me like this is probably the best way to jog your memories of me. x

  “Holy mother of God,” I whisper as my eyes take in the photo Ben sent me. The shot shows the full length of his body reflected in a gym mirror. There are dumbbells scattered around his feet. Exercise equipment in the background. As promised, he’s shirtless and sweaty in the photo. He’s wearing a backward baseball cap and a pair of black workout shorts. And his body is absolutely glorious. It’s sculpted from head to toe and covered in far more ink than I recall from seven years ago. In short, he’s smoking hot.

  I send the photo to Tatiana and, two seconds later, my phone rings.

  “Tati.”

  “Oh my fucking God!” she shrieks.

  “He’s stone-cold gorgeous, right?” I say.

  “Dude, he’s stone-cold ‘holy fuck and sweet baby Jesus’ gorgeous!” she replies. “Those abs. That ink. Those arms. That smile. And those eyes. Holy bajeebabeebus, Kaylee. Based on the story you told me at the time, I think I was picturing him as an eighteen-year-old. But this ain’t no boy-man. Holy hell. This right here is a grown-ass man and then some.”

  I sigh. “He’s definitely grown up right. Good lord.”

  “Good lord. You still thinking he’s just a one and done?”

  I pause . . . just long enough to telegraph my answer to my bestie, who knows me so well.

  “Good. That boy right there ain’t no ‘catch and release’ program. That boy’s a keeper if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “A keeper, we’ll see. A man I’d like to chain to my bed for the next month? Definitely.”

  Tatiana laughs.

  “Okay, baby, I’ve got to stop drooling long enough to reply to the man’s text. I’ve left him hanging long enough.”

  Tatiana laughs. “You’re so cruel. You know he’s been staring at his phone, waiting for your reaction to his photo for a solid five minutes.”

  “A little insecurity is good for a guy like him. I’m sure girls throw themselves at him all day, every day.”

  “No doubt.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve this manna from heaven, but I’ll take it.”

  Tatiana giggles. “Have fun, love. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  We hang up and I swipe into my texts again, and much to my glee, I’ve got a new one waiting for me from Ben.

  Soooo did my photo help refresh your memory?

  I decide to keep him waiting for few minutes longer, just to prolong his anticipation. I hop on to Instagram to kill some time. Do some online banking. Check out a celebrity website I follow. Return a couple texts. And finally, deign to return his text.

  Hey, sorry about the delay. Got distracted with something. No, I’m sorry to report, your photo doesn’t ring a bell. You could be any number of Aussies I’ve devirginized during camping trips in Coconino seven years ago. There was this ONE particular Aussie from seven years ago you KIND of remind me of. That Aussie and I stayed up all night together, having amazing sex three times, making out, talking, laughing, gazing longingly into each other’s eyes. It was a magical night. A night I’ve never forgotten and probably never will. But you couldn’t possibly be THAT guy. He was hot, yes. But not nearly as hot as you. That Aussie was a boy-man, but you’re all MAN. Plus, that Aussie was super shy so I can’t imagine he would have had the balls to text me and ask me to drinks in the first place. So, no, I can’t really say your photo is ringing any bells. So sorry.

  I press Send, a smirk on my face, and wait with bated breath for Ben’s reply. I don’t have to wait long. Indeed, Ben replies instantly—because, apparently, the utterly delicious Ben Watson goes straight after what he wants without a moment’s delay, unlike the shy boy I met seven years ago.

  Forget that wanker from seven years ago, baby. Trust me, I’ve got waaaaaaaay more skills than that pathetic excuse for a boy-man had. Meet me for drinks tonight and, with a little luck, at some point in the near future, you’ll give me the chance to show you exactly what I mean by that.

  Oh, for the love of fuck, this is getting good. I tap out a reply, my heart racing.

  The Misfit in Santa Monica. 7:00.

  I’ll be there. How about you send me a recent photo? Not fair you know what I look like nowadays and I have no idea about you.

  I roll my eyes to myself. He honestly expects me to believe he asked me to drinks without the faintest idea of what I look like now?

  I’m surprised you haven’t seen a recent photo of me on my brother’s Instagram or something? In fact, I find that awfully hard to believe, Ben.

  Busted!

  You saw one of the yoga shots Carter posted, didn’t you? From when we were on vacation and I made my family do yoga with me overlooking the beach?

  There’s more than one yoga shot? How did I miss that?

  Pretty sure there are several.

  Shit! Well, I know what I’ll be doing moments from now: scouring Carter’s IG for more photos of you.

  LOL. Which photo did you see?

  One of you and Carter holding beers. Another one where you were doing a handstand on a yoga mat. And I didn’t just SEE that yoga photo. I bloody perved at it so flaming long my eyes nearly popped out of my sockets.

  LOL. I had a similar reaction when I saw a certain gym photo of a hot Aussie I used to know.

  Thrilled to know the perving is mutual. Fuck me dead, that yoga shot was a jaw-dropper.

  Yes, the perving is definitely mutual, Ben. See you at seven, Shy Boy.

  Not shy anymore.

  Clearly. Damn.

  See you tonight, Yoga Girl. Can’t wait. xx

  Same. xo

  He sends me a smiley face emoji and I send him a blowing-kiss one in return.

  With a huge smile on my face, I swipe into my contacts and place a call.

  “Santa Monica Wax Salon,” a female voice says. “How may I help you?”

  “Hi there. I’ve got a bit of a waxing emergency. I’m praying you can squeeze me in today for a full Brazilian.”

  “Today? Oh, no, I’m sorry. We’re booked solid. We’ve got several openings tomorrow, however. How does eleven sound?”

  “Tomorrow won’t work, unfortunately. It’s got to be today. I wouldn’t normally ask for an accommodation, but like I said, it’s a waxing emergency. I just got a text from this hot Australian I met on a camping trip in college seven years ago. I was twenty. He was eighteen and just this big, adorable puppy kind of guy. I invited him to my tent and wound up devirginizing him.”

  “Oh.”

  “We spent the entire night together in my sleeping bag and it was the best night ever. And then he went back to Australia. But now he’s apparently moved to LA for a new job and he’s texted me out of the blue, seven years later, asking me to meet him tonight for drinks. I asked him to send me a current photo—you
know, just kind of pretending I didn’t remember him, just to give him a hard time because sometimes I’m a bitch like that—and the shot he sent me blew my mind. Trust me, he’s no longer an adorable puppy. He’s all man. He was shirtless and sweaty in the shot and literally the hottest male specimen I’ve ever seen. And I’m a spin and yoga instructor, mind you, so I’ve seen a lot of hot gym bodies in my lifetime. And not only is he hot, he assured me he’s got ‘waaaaaaay more skills’ than he had seven years ago when I popped his cherry. So, you know, obviously, I’m gonna sleep with him tonight.”

  “If you don’t, then I will.”

  We both giggle.

  “Unfortunately, it’s been a couple months since I waxed. I had a bad breakup. So, I’ve got to get my jungle under control right freaking now.”

  “Well, damn, girl. If this isn’t a waxing emergency, then I don’t know what is. I tell you what, honey. If you come right now and bring that shirtless photo of the Aussie with you, and if you promise to come back to the salon in a few days to take me to coffee and tell me the entire story of how things went tonight with him, then, okay, I’ll figure out a way to squeeze you in today.”

  I squeal. “You’re a godsend! Thank you so much.”

  “You’re very welcome. I’ll consider it karma points. Truly, I’ll go to bed with a smile on my face tonight, thinking about what you’re doing tonight.”

  “You’re seriously my new best friend. I’m going to call my lifelong bestie right now and tell her she’s out and you’re in.”

  The woman laughs. “What’s your name?”

  “Kaylee Rae. And I’m already driving toward the salon. I’ll be there in exactly twelve minutes.”

  “Fabulous. We’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter 3

  I walk into the bar and survey the place. Ben. He’s sitting at a tall table in the corner, impossible to miss. Even if he’d been a complete stranger to me, my gaze would have been drawn straight to his deliciousness like a magnet to steel.

  I begin walking through the crowded bar toward him, and as I approach, Ben’s chocolate eyes land on me and light up. He waves and smiles, causing both of my ovaries to explode simultaneously, and I wave back and try not to melt onto the floor.

  I reach the table and Ben stands, his muscular arms outstretched.

  “Hi,” I manage to say, melting into his hard chest as he wraps his arms around me.

  “Kaylee,” he replies into my hair. “You look gorgeous.”

  Oh, that accent. “You look gorgeous, too,” I say into his broad shoulder, and he chuckles.

  “Thanks.”

  I pull out of his embrace, my heart racing, and lock eyes with him . . . and physically swoon. “It’s great to see you,” I chirp, my sunny tone an overcompensation for the shiver of desire running up my spine.

  I take a seat and Ben does the same. We’re both smiling from ear to ear. My heart is racing.

  “I hope you didn’t mind me getting your number from Carter,” Ben says. “When I got to LA and realized my co-workers didn’t give two shits about—”

  “Good evening.” It’s a waitress, suddenly standing at our table. “Are you two ready to place drink orders or do you need a minute?”

  We quickly place drink orders and, the moment the waitress walks away, lean toward each other, the energy between us palpable.

  “What were you saying?” I ask.

  “Fuck if I know,” he says with a crooked smile. “Probably talking gibberish, thanks to nerves.”

  “You’re nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because . . .” He motions to the entirety of me, like his gesture somehow answers the question.

  I bite my lower lip. “Thank you for texting me. I was blown away when I saw your message. Talk about an unexpected blast from the past.”

  Ben chuckles. “You must have been like, ‘Ben who?’”

  “No, there wasn’t a nanosecond where I wondered Ben who. I was definitely shocked, of course. But I remember our night together like it was yesterday.”

  “Same,” he says, his dark eyes blazing. “Every word. Every touch. Like it was yesterday.” His eyes flash with unmistakable heat. “You not only owned my body that night, you blew my fucking mind.”

  My lips part in surprise.

  “To be honest with you,” he adds, his cheeks flushing, “that night ranks up there as one of the best of my life.”

  For me, too, I think. But I don’t say it. It’d be too big an admission. Too immediate a divestment of my armor. And yet, the earnest look in Ben’s eyes makes me want to give him something. “You blew my mind that night, too,” I say softly.

  He smiles. “I did?”

  I nod. “You didn’t pop my cherry the way I popped yours, obviously, but it was a huge turn-on for me to find out I was your first. The minute I discovered that, I wanted nothing more than to give you the night of your life.”

  He flashes me an adorable smile. “Well, mission accomplished.”

  I blush.

  “It was . . . man, it was amazing, Kaylee. You were an amazing teacher.”

  “And you were a star pupil. A surprisingly quick study, as I recall.”

  He places a muscled forearm on the table. His grin is wicked. “I can’t begin to tell you how many times over the years I’ve fantasized I’d one day be sitting here with you.”

  “You’ve fantasized about one day sitting in a bar with me?” I ask coyly.

  He drags his teeth along his lower lip. “Well, you know. Every fantasy has a beginning, middle, and end. The bar is just the beginning of the fantasy.”

  Before I can reply, the waitress appears at our table with our drinks. We both lean back, our chests visibly rising and falling, as she places our glasses in front of us. The waitress gives us her chirpy recommendations about food. We order a couple appetizers. And finally, she leaves.

  I bring my martini to my lips, eyeing Ben like a lioness on the hunt. “You were saying?”

  He’s undressing me with his dark eyes—and making it abundantly clear he likes what he sees. “Nothing important. I was just making an arse of myself, I’m sure. Talking gibberish again.”

  “Not at all. You’re actually seducing me quite effectively.”

  “Ace!”

  We both laugh.

  “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t remember you, did you?” I ask.

  “I thought it was distinctly within the realm of possibility.”

  “That’s actually fairly offensive. You realize that, right? We spent the entire night together. Had awesome sex three times. And in between actual sex we talked and cuddled and laughed and made out. You really think I’d just forget a night like that? I can’t help feeling like you’re implying I’m either mentally deficient or accustomed to hosting gangbangs every Tuesday night.”

  “Bloody hell. I meant no offense. I just meant you were my first, which means you surely made a bigger impression on me than I made on you. A guy never forgets his first. Ever. But to you, I had to figure I was just another poor guy left brokenhearted in your wake.”

  “Another poor guy left brokenhearted in my wake?” I roll my eyes. “Again with the insults. From what I could plainly see, you couldn’t wipe the goofy smile off your face the next morning, Ben. Nobody has ever gotten his heart broken after a night with me, least of all you.”

  He flashes me a panty-melting smile and takes a sip of his beer, leaving whatever he’s thinking unsaid.

  “You want to talk about someone leaving broken hearts in their wake, I’m sure you’ve been guilty of doing that at least a time or two in your lifetime.” I finger the rim of my glass. “Fess up, Benny Boy. You’ve been quite the heartbreaker for the past seven years, haven’t you?”

  He chuckles. “We’re not talking about me at the moment. We were talking about why I thought it at least possible you might not remember me when I texted you. That’s all we were talking about.”

  “Well, in point
of fact, I’ve never forgotten you. You weren’t my first for sex, but you were my first and only virgin. A girl doesn’t forget popping a guy’s cherry, especially when that guy looks like a wet dream.”

  His eyes flash with heat. “Do women have wet dreams?”

  “This woman does.”

  His breathing visibly hitches. He licks his lips and brings his drink to them, his eyes locked with mine. He puts down his drink. I wait. He’s undressing me with his eyes again. The sexual energy between us is palpable.

  “Why’d you refuse to give me your number that next morning?” he finally says. “I couldn’t understand it. We’d had such an amazing night. Why not keep in touch?”

  “The night was too amazing. Too hot. What was the point? You were heading back to Australia with no plans of returning any time soon. I figured better to not tarnish the spectacular memory with lackluster FaceTime sex.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “Bloody hell, you’ve got a hard outer shell, don’t you?”

  I’m floored. “I’m just pragmatic.”

  He stares at me for a long beat. “No, it’s something else.”

  I shrug.

  He leans forward. “You’re not like other girls I’ve met, Kaylee.”

  “In what way?”

  “Other women say one thing and mean another. They play games.”

  “Oh, make no mistake about it: I play games. Well and often.”

  He laughs.

  “I’m just so damned good at my diabolical games, the average male brain can’t detect my sorcery.”

  His smile widens. “You’re implying I’ve got an average male brain, are you?”

  I wrap a strand of my dark hair around my finger and smile coyly. “If you think I don’t play games, then, yes, that would be the logical conclusion.”

  He takes a sip of his beer. “Tell me about your games, Kaylee Rae. What am I in for here with you, if I’m lucky enough to get a shot?”

  I bite my lip. “A magician never reveals her secrets, Ben.”

  He suddenly looks very much like a man pretending not to have a hard-on under the table. His chocolate eyes darken with heat. “I find you incredibly sexy. Even more than I did seven years ago. And that’s saying a lot.”