Alphas of Seduction

by Victoria Blue

  I hold my breath. I can’t read his face. He might be holding back a smile. And he might be trying to smile through abject misery. “How’d it go?” I ask tentatively.

  Defeat. It flickers across his face. “They’re gonna go with another guy.”

  I get up and hug him. “Aw, baby. I’m sorry.”

  He wraps me in his muscular arms.

  “For Trent,” he adds. And then he laughs. “Last minute, they decided to cast me as Gabe.”

  I pull back. “What? Oh my God!”

  “They’re gonna rewrite Gabe as Australian!”

  I whoop with laughter and throw my arms around his neck . . . and then, out of nowhere, burst into tears of relief. I squeeze him tight and he wraps his arms around me and holds me and we stay like that for a very long time.

  “The paycheck’s not much,” he says after a moment. “I won’t be able to afford renting us that house on the beach just yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say. I wipe my eyes. “I don’t care about that. I just . . .” Emotion floods me again. I press my lips together, unable to continue.

  Ben’s beautiful face contorts with concern. He wipes my tears. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  I gather myself. “I was so damned nervous waiting here for you, Ben. And not about this part, specifically. There will be other parts for you. Bigger parts. I was nervous because I knew you wanted this part so badly—and I desperately want you to be happy. Because I . . .” I swallow hard. I know I’ve already told Ben I love him. But in this moment, it’s suddenly clear to me what the words mean. That his happiness means even more to me than my own. “Because I love you more than literally anything,” I whisper, shocking myself.

  Ben’s face is the portrait of a man completely bowled over. He lays his palms on my cheeks and kisses me with deep passion, making me melt like a puddle.

  “Marry me,” he whispers, his eyes ablaze. “Marry me, Kaylee Rae. Be my wife.”

  My mouth hangs open. I can’t speak.

  He smiles. “Do you want anyone else?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then give me one good reason why we shouldn’t make this official.”

  I shake my head. “Ben, we’ve been together for three months.”

  “And seven years.”

  I make a face like that’s patently ridiculous.

  His dark eyes are amused.

  “I’m not a believer in marriage. You know that.”

  “Well, I am.”

  I open and close my mouth.

  “I’m not your father, baby,” he says. “You’ve owned my heart for a very long time and you always will. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

  I smash my lips together. My brain is melting. I never thought I’d feel this kind of love, ever. But . . . marriage?

  Ben grabs my hands. “I want you to be my wife. The mother of my babies. I don’t want to move in with my girlfriend. I want to make a home with my wife. And I want to do it before my career takes off—if it does.”

  “It will. It absolutely will.”

  “Well, then. Let’s do it. Let’s commit to this crazy ride together. You and me.”

  I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate. I’ve always said I’ll never get married. Not after my parents’ messy divorce. Not after watching their love morph into bitter hate. But, by God, I want to be with Ben forever. I know I do. And yet . . . Ben’s career is just beginning to take off. Who knows what adventures will await him when he’s a big star? “Let’s take it one step at a time,” I say. “We’ll move in together and take it from there.”

  Ben eyes me for a very long time like I’m some sort of Sudoku puzzle he can’t quite make out. “Bloody hell, you’re a tough nut to crack, Kaylee Rae.” He smiles. “But you know what, sweetheart? You’ve met your match.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is.” He winks. “I happen to be a highly motivated nutcracker.”

  Chapter 7

  Two months later . . .

  Everyone is having a blast around the campfire, talking and laughing and singing while my brother, Carter, plays his guitar and stares at his girlfriend’s boobs. Ben and I hadn’t planned on joining Carter and his crew on this trip, but when Carter mentioned it, we decided to join in on a whim. Why not? Ben had just finished shooting his scenes for the Trent Dowager movie and won’t be shooting that TV pilot for another two weeks, and Tatiana and her new boyfriend said they’d love to come, too. So off we went.

  Ben sits next to me and hands me a bottle of beer.

  “Thanks,” I say. I bring the bottle to my lips . . . and suddenly realize the paper label wrapped around the bottle isn’t a label at all. It’s a note. Smiling, I unfold the scrap of paper . . . and instantly smile wickedly.

  Feel free to come into my sleeping bag tonight after your brother and everyone else have gone to sleep. No need to bring a condom. If we make a baby, that’s perfectly fine with me because I intend to make you my wife. Ben

  I turn to look at him and find him smiling broadly. He raises his eyebrows like he’s asking me if I’ll come. I make a face like, “Maybe, maybe not,” and he laughs. But, of course, I slide my hand in his and squeeze, telling him I can’t wait.

  Several hours later, while hanging out with Tatiana and her boyfriend next to what used to be a roaring campfire, I look around and suddenly realize Ben is nowhere to be found.

  “Oh,” I say out loud. I pop up. “I think I’m gonna hit the sack, guys.”

  “Yeah, we’d better hit it, too.”

  We say our good-nights.

  I make my way in the dark to the tent Ben set up for us for the night. Once there, I poke my head into the tent and whisper, “Ben?”

  “Kaylee?” comes Ben’s familiar voice.

  I chuckle. “Yeah. Can I come in?”

  “I’m naked. Is that a problem?”

  “Fuck no.” I enter the tent, every cell in my body surging with joy, and begin stripping off my clothes. “It’s fucking freezing,” I say.

  “Get in here and I’ll warm you up,” comes the sexy reply.

  “I can’t see,” I say. “Turn on the light on your phone, babe.”

  I hear Ben shuffle around. And then a dim light fills the tent. Just enough light for me to make out Ben’s smiling face in the sleeping bag . . . and the sparkling ring he’s holding up toward me.

  My jaw drops.

  “You want to come into my sleeping bag?” Ben says, a huge smile on his face. “Then say yes. That’s the password. Say yes, Kaylee. Otherwise, you can stand out there all night long and freeze your perfect tits off.”

  I laugh.

  “Say yes.”

  My naked flesh is covered in goose bumps. My chest is heaving. “What’s the question, again?”

  “Will. You. Marry. Me?”

  Every cell in my body surges with certainty. Love. Joy. He’s right. I’m a tough nut to crack. But he’s also right that he’s a damned talented nutcracker. “Yes.”

  He whoops loudly. “Get your hot arse in here right fucking now!”

  He opens the sleeping bag to me and I practically dive inside. He slides the ring on my finger and pulls me in for the most euphoric kiss of my life. In short order, we’re mutually swept away in each other, our lips and tongues and fingers busy. And when Ben finally pushes inside me without a condom for the first time in our relationship, every nerve ending in my body comes alive all at once. I’ve never let down my walls and loved this completely before. I’ve never felt so utterly and completely loved.

  “I love you,” I gasp out as an orgasm rips through me.

  “I love you, baby,” Ben replies, just before he unleashes inside me . . . and as I feel his erection rippling and his seed spilling inside me, I’m not the least bit anxious we might be making a baby in this instant. In fact, I’m surprised to realize I hope we are.

  When we’re both quiet, Ben takes my face in his big hands and nuzzles my nose with his. “Mrs. Ben Watson,” he says. “I can’t
wait.”

  Epilogue

  Eight years later

  Coconino National Forest, Northern Arizona

  As I approach the campfire, holding drinks, everyone is having a blast, talking and laughing while my brother plays his guitar and stares at his pregnant wife’s massive boobs. It’s the first time we’ve left the baby, but she’ll be fine with her two older siblings and Ben’s parents, who are visiting from Melbourne. Indeed, Ben’s parents encouraged us to take a weekend with our best friends without our kids. “You haven’t had a chance to unplug and unwind, just the two of you, in so long,” Ben’s mom said. “Go and have fun.”

  So we went. Because we both desperately needed a break from The Machine. That’s what Ben and I call Hollywood and its never-ending appetite for all things Ben Watson.

  I hand Tatiana and her husband bottles of beer and they thank me and clink. I hand Ben a bottle of beer wrapped in a scrap of paper . . . and then take a seat next to him.

  “Cheers,” he says, clinking my beer with his.

  “Cheers.”

  As Ben brings his bottle to his lips, I can feel him noticing the paper I’ve slipped him along with his beer, but I don’t look. I keep my eyes trained on my brother playing guitar. But when I sense Ben’s hands unfolding the note out the corner of my eye, I can’t help grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  Feel free to come into my sleeping bag tonight after my brother and everyone else have gone to sleep. No need to bring a condom. If we make a fourth baby, that’s perfectly fine with me. Why? Because I love you with all my heart and soul, my beautiful husband. And I always will. Forever and ever. Forever yours, Mrs. Watson

  A quick note of thanks from Lauren Rowe: Big thanks to my Aussie friend, Madonna Blackburn, for helping me make Ben talk like an authentic Australian! You’re the best! Mwah!

  About Lauren Rowe

  Lauren Rowe is the USA Today, Amazon #1, and international #1 best-selling author of The Club Series, The Morgan Brothers, select standalone Misadventures titles and more. Lauren's books are full of feels, humor, heat, and heart. She's a performer, audio book narrator, award-winning songwriter and media host/personality who lives in San Diego, California where she lives with her family, sings with her band, and writes at all hours.

  To be notified of new releases or sales, join Lauren’s Mailing List: Here!

  Connect with Lauren online

  Visit Lauren at LaurenRoweBooks.com!

  Chapter 1

  Ethan

  “Call me,” the gorgeous blonde said with a smile as she leaned over my chest to plant a kiss on my lips.

  “Of course.”

  I was rewarded with a sexy wink before she turned on her heel and strutted out of my hotel room, her beautiful ass swaying with each step and making my body wake up after very little sleep following hours of incredible sex.

  Running my hand down over my abs, I slid my palm over my hard cock and moaned. “Mmmm…if there was any justice in this world, I wouldn’t have to get out of this bed and work.”

  I thought about the woman I’d spent the night with and a tiny lick of guilt nipped at me that I couldn’t remember her name. Even if I wanted to call her, which I probably never would, what was I going to say? “Hey, gorgeous blonde with the great ass, what’s up?”

  Not exactly the way to get a woman in your bed. I mean, I’m good, but even I’m not good enough to tell a woman I can’t remember her first name and have her back underneath me.

  All the better anyway. Some things were meant to be momentary. I wasn’t ready to settle down with any one woman yet, so why pretend?

  I folded my arms behind my head and looked out at the world beyond my hotel room. I had to give my father credit. The man knew how to pick the best locations for his hotels. I’d never been in a single one of them that didn’t have a view to die for. Today’s offered the beach and the beautiful ocean water I planned to enjoy after a few hours of work.

  Tristan Stone’s Richmont Hotel on the southeast coast of Australia. Beautifully overlooking the crystal-blue waters of the Pacific.

  I chuckled, imagining the marketing team Stone Worldwide paid to come up with that. The ads never mentioned my father’s name, though. I added that part in because, in the end, that’s exactly who the entire Richmont Hotel line belonged to.

  Tristan Stone.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I pushed out any thoughts of my family. Lying in bed with a hard-on after a night of great sex was not the time to be thinking of them.

  And then from the other room I heard the sound of the video phone alerting me that at any moment someone planned to ruin this perfect morning for me. Damnit. I forgot to turn on the message before I went to sleep.

  “Ethan? Are you there? I need to speak to you.”

  I scrubbed the last remnants of sleep from my face and rolled out of bed. Quickly, I slipped into a pair of shorts before I headed into the other room of the suite.

  “Ethan? I know you’re there. You didn’t put on the away message, which I know you always do when you aren’t around.”

  As I turned the corner into the living room, I saw her. Tressa. With her dark hair up in a bun like she wore it so often, she reminded me of some librarian who spent her days in the stuffy back room poring over old books.

  If only I’d put the damn message on before whatever her name was and I fell asleep.

  “What do you want, Tressa?” I asked as I flipped on the screen so she could see me.

  My sister opened her mouth and then closed it, grimacing at me. “Jesus, Ethan. Did you get another tattoo? I don’t think there’s a square inch of skin left untouched on your torso.”

  Leave it to my bossier sister to be the one to call me. Too bad Diana wasn’t the one staring back at me. Her I loved talking to.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t call just to comment on my tattoos. What do you want, Tressa?”

  She drew her dark eyebrows in and shook her head. “No, I don’t give a damn what you do to yourself, Ethan. What I do care about is our mother and father, and that’s why I called you.”

  Tressa always made it sound like she was the only one of the three of us children who gave a damn about our parents. As if, because I didn’t live a stone’s throw away from them, I’d somehow given up having any feelings at all about Tristan and Nina Stone.

  “Since you’re still being a royal—”

  She leaned in and growled at me. “Don’t you dare finish that statement, dear brother of mine, or I’ll just have to tell Mom and Dad what I heard.”

  My mind raced with possibilities of what she could have found out about what I’d been up to. Lots of women. A little too much partying. At least too much for my parents’ tastes. That fight in that club a week ago in Sydney. God only knew what she could be referring to.

  Best to play it cool. Saying much of anything would likely give away my guilt.

  “Uh-huh. So about Mom and Dad?”

  Tressa grinned like a cat who’d just swallowed a canary. Obviously pleased with herself about something, she wiggled her eyebrows and asked, “So, how was your shoot last week?”

  I plastered a smile on my face as once again my mind raced to piece together just what the hell she meant. Shoot last week? Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I’d done my job, got some nice shots, and had a great time that night.

  Same as always. So what the hell was Tressa getting at?

  “Don’t you have a job or something? I mean, you’re twenty-five years old. Shouldn’t you be at work now?”

  My sister’s face twisted into an expression of disgust. “It’s ten o’clock at night here in New York. You do understand that it isn’t the same time around the world, don’t you?”

  I’d had enough of her for one morning. Reaching toward the screen to turn her off, I said, “Okay, bye. Nice chatting. Let’s do this again in, say, another decade or so.”

  Before I could get rid of my sister from my hotel room, she said in her trademark snide way, “Imagine me hearin
g the awful news at the Morrison Gallery opening that our mother was dead and her dear son was in mourning about losing her so young.”

  Cringing, I stopped just before I turned her off. Damn.

  “What do you want, Tressa? What’s it going to take to make sure you don’t say a word about this?”

  A slow smile spread across her lips. “I can’t believe it. You actually used that line to get some bimbo into bed. Is nothing sacred to you, Ethan? That’s our mother you’re killing off to get a piece of ass.”

  “It wasn’t like that. It was a misunderstanding, actually.”

  As I sat down in the chair in front of the screen, she laughed at my feeble attempt to lie my way out of this. If only Diana had been the sister to attend that gallery opening.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t, and the sister who had stood staring at me with that look of judgment she seemed to always wear when it came to me.

  “Let me see if I can figure out how it went down. You were talking to the flavor of the day and somehow the topic of your mother came up, and oops, you mistakenly said she died. Or maybe it was something more like bimbo du jour wasn’t completely falling for your charms and you figured you needed a little something extra to convince her to jump into bed with you. Was that it, Ethan? What’s killing off one of your parents if it means you get laid, right?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose to forestall a headache that was beginning to form behind my eyes. “I said it was a misunderstanding. The person I was speaking to was talking about losing her mother, and I was consoling her when I said I’d be lost without my mother. That was it. She must have misunderstood.”