Steamy Proposal (Alphalicious Billionaires Book 8)

by Lindsey Hart

  It felt like he was coming back to life. Slowly. Surely. Like there would be a life to come back to. He wanted Alix to be a part of it. He just wasn’t sure that was on her agenda any longer.

  Cancer taught him hard lessons, the most valuable being that tomorrow might not be a thing. For anyone. Even people who are perfectly healthy. He got used to seeing the future as a big question mark. He’d treasured every single minute he could with his mom, banking them all away in case one day, there weren’t any more days to make them.

  He didn’t want to wreck what he and Alix had going. He didn’t want her to go back to hating him, but he also knew that if he didn’t take a risk that she still felt the same way she obviously had for years, he was probably never going to find out. He didn’t want to wait until it was too late. He’d rather she punched him straight in the face when he tried to make a move, flip him off, throw him out, make him grovel, than letting ambivalence kill whatever feeling she might have left and time they might be granted.

  He sauntered through the open bathroom door. The place was nice. It had been remodeled a couple of years ago and had a double vanity with fancy lights overhead, a freestanding tub, the claw foot thing minus the claws and feet, and a glassed-in shower. The bathroom was done in shades of white and more white. Not his taste. It didn’t match the rest of the house either, given that it was a mid-century style bungalow, though not the really fancy, true MCM kind since it had been renovated over the years and watered down in a half assed, bare bones left kind of way, and the rest of the décor was casual and comfy.

  A thousand images ran through Ross’s mind when he spotted Alix, bent over that tub, her fucking skinny jeans so tight that they didn’t just cup her ass, they defined it completely, her hair hanging down so far, a dark curtain that nearly skimmed the water’s surface, her plain yellow tank top riding up to expose just the barest hint of her smooth, pale back.

  He tried not to think about stripping her naked and banging her ten ways to Sunday in that tub. About fucking her so hard that water sloshed over the side and flooded the floor. He glanced around desperately, trying to deflate the painful erection punching against his fly. Yeah. That was a no go. He got a big visual of the glass shower and imagined Alix’s perfect, small, perky tits pressed up against the fogged surface right before he bent her over from behind.

  His eyes swept to the vanity, but it was huge, with two sinks, and he imagined propping her up on there, spreading her legs, and feasting.

  Think horrible thought. Gross thoughts. Chance in that tub with one of his girlfriends. Alix’s parents christening the new bathroom…

  That did it. He suddenly felt like he was going to hurl.

  Alix glanced up from the bath as she shut the tap off and nearly jumped out of her skin. She slammed a hand over her chest and gasped for breath. “Holy turd balls, Ross. You scared the shit out of me!”

  He glanced around. “I see steaming water and I can smell that weird dog smell, but I don’t see or smell any shit.”

  She knocked her fists together and flipped him a double bird at the end of it. “Har, har, har. Don’t sneak up on me again.”

  “Or what? You’ll castrate me?”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. Clearly their maturity was still at an all-time high, but it felt good to just let go for the first time in months.

  “Actually, I prefer not to think about your balls. Thanks. I’m going to go start on that cake.”

  “I’ll get my anti-venom ready.”

  “What are you going to brew it out of? Bathtub and toilet water?”

  “Sounds as good as anything.”

  Alix rolled her eyes. She indicated a fuzzy pink towel on the rack that she’d probably set there just for him. “There’s your towel. Have a good bath. Try not to drown again.”

  “My head still remembers how bad it felt last time. Head and lungs. Thank you very much.”

  Alix retreated out of the bathroom and slammed the door just a little harder than she needed to. Good. Her attitude was back. He’d missed it. He’d missed teasing her. He’d missed everything about the old cute bear, if he was honest. He just didn’t realize that he had until he came up for air after his mom’s appointment. The old Alix was a pain in the ass, big time, but she was also vivacious and funny, a bright light shining in a dark sky and no one could hold a candle to her. The new Alix was all of that and more, but she was too serious. Too hard. He didn’t want her to be that way all the time. It felt like finally, finally, they could all just take a breath.

  Ross shed his clothes into a heap on the floor. He didn’t bother setting them aside neatly for later. He’d go to Chance’s room. The guy was just about his size and pillage his messy dresser and closet for something clean to wear. Those clothes reeked of the hospital and he didn’t want a reminder at the moment, of anything clinical, stark, bleached, or medicated.

  He jumped into the tub without thinking. All at once. Plunged himself right in.

  And came up screaming.

  He’d forgotten that Alix was like the ninety-nine percent of women out there and was cold blooded. She was always cold, even on a warm day. Wearing sweaters, complaining about the pool’s temperature, asking for an extra blanket for her bed at night when it was sweltering in the middle of June.

  The door banged open and Alix rushed in, horror and alarm twisting her beautiful face. She scanned the area like there was a group of ninjas hiding behind the door waiting to fuck them up.

  “What?” she gasped. “What is it? I heard a scream. It sounded like you’d done just what you said you wouldn’t and cracked your stupid thick head open again.”

  “You made it so fucking hot you’d boil a person to death! What do you think I am? A lobster?”

  Her eyes widened when she took in his naked form. She did a full sweep, from head to toe. “That’s ridiculous,” she muttered, clearly flustered. She dropped her eyes back down to the marble floor tile. “It wasn’t hot at all. I tested it.”

  She was standing only a few feet away. Close enough to grab. He didn’t know what he was thinking, except that he wanted her to test that water alright, with more than just the tip of her little finger. He grabbed for her and she wasn’t fast enough to get away. A second piercing scream rent the air as he tugged her, fully clothed, into the tub with him.

  Water splashed everywhere. Over the edge. Over the floor. Onto the damn vanity a good fifteen feet away. Alix’s shrieks would have brought the cops, if they were anywhere near a station. He was half amazed that the neighbors weren’t bursting into the bathroom, pitchforks and axes at the ready to defend her.

  She came up spluttering, punching and lashing out, swatting him away with one hand while she tried to wipe the water out of her eyes with the other.

  “What is wrong with you?!” The high-pitched wail could have split his eardrums.

  Fortunately for him, he’d grown up hearing a lot of it from her and he was pretty much immune. Her hand connected with his chest, shoving him back, but he didn’t budge, and her palm sat there, splayed out against his left pec.

  She seemed to realize that at the same time he did. Her eyes widened even more, and those amber orbs were burning with a feral intensity he’d never seen before. He knew he pretty much had one shot at this. It might be his last shot. He wasn’t going to waste it, so he cupped her flushed, flawless, porcelain cheeks between his rougher palms and brought her close. Close enough that her heaving breaths blasted all over his face. Close enough that his breath danced all over hers.

  She didn’t pull away.

  So, he didn’t either.

  He pulled her closer. So that they were chest to chest, kneeling together, legs to legs. His cock hadn’t quite recovered from the scalding yet, so it was behaving- for the moment. At least it wasn’t trying to dig a hole into her stomach or drill through her jeans.

  He wanted to crush her mouth with his. Brutalize her lips. Nip her until she fought back and brutalized him too. He wanted to kiss her messy, u
ntil drool ran down the corners of her mouth and her tongue felt like it was going to fall off. Until she told him that she was his again.

  Except, he wanted to treasure her too. He wanted to be gentle. To remember the moment he kissed her for the first time when he knew. Knew beyond a shadow of the most shadowy doubt, that he wanted her.

  So, he let his breath fog up her lips. He let her pant and whimper as his lips played over hers, little more than a whisper and a flutter. He let her learn every indent and pattern and crease in his lips as he pressed them to hers and he kept them there, memorizing every crease and dip and curve of hers before his opened and hers followed.

  They danced then. His tongue darted out and he traced the patterns in her lips he’d just taken so much care to learn. He licked at her mouth until she opened for him, until she was kissing him back. He deepened it a few seconds later, tasting her mouth, her tongue and her air. He stroked her gently, deeply, darkly, and swallowed the whimpers she moaned into him. He breathed in sharply, inhaling her air.

  She arched into him, pushing her breasts into his chest in invitation, and goddamn those flimsy lace bras she liked to wear. He could feel the hard outlines of her nipples right through two layers of clothing.

  He growled into her mouth as he shoved her shirt up roughly. She lifted her arms in the air so he could tug it off. His control snapped, when he saw her in the soaked, totally translucent, white lace. He bent his head and tore the little piece of cloth holding it all together with his teeth.

  Alix moaned and scraped her nails over his scalp as she tugged his face to her breast. He captured her nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking and using his teeth until the bud was hard and straining. Her hips ground down into him and yeah, this time his cock was ready. He ground back, dry humping her in a wet bathtub like a horny sixteen-year-old who has just been warned about the dangers of copulation but doesn’t have a condom in sight to save his already blackened soul.

  Alix, sweet, innocent, gorgeous, Alix who wasn’t so little anymore, or so innocent, reached between them and grabbed his cock with her fist. She ran her hand down the smooth length of him underneath the water and his hips jacked into her hand with the motion.

  “Fuck, Alix” he hissed.

  “Yeah,” she breathed, right next to his ear, all soft honey, sugary syrup, warm breeze and desperate, dark need. “If that’s what you want, this time I’m game.”

  His eyes slammed shut and he made a living out of grinding his teeth to dust just to keep from coming all over her hand. Not that there’d be a mess in the tub, but still… it was her parent’s tub, and he had a reputation to consider. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so on edge. So close to the edge. Like he was a virgin all over again. Oh right. Even when he had been a virgin- and no, he was not going to even think about how that had gone- he hadn’t come in under a minute.

  He was supposed to be the Ross Rivers. The guy who could go at it all night. The guy who was famous for his stamina. Multiple orgasm king, Ross Rivers. That was his reputation.

  He curled his hands around Alix’s jean covered ass and lifted her from the bath, soaking wet. He climbed out after, her still in his arms, her legs locked around his hips, and nearly fell flat on his face, since the marble tile was a slippery motherfucker when already drenched.

  “Holy shit,” he groaned, when her nails bite into his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” she breathed again. “Holy shit. Holy everything.”

  “Where?”

  “My room. Down the hall.”

  “I know where your damn room is,” he ground out. If his cock got any harder, he was going to tear through her jeans and be inside her before they got to her room and he had time to glove up.

  Fuck. He didn’t have a condom. It was very unlikely she did either, though he couldn’t say why he thought so. She was beautiful. He and Chance used to have to kick ass every single day just to keep the bastards off of her. Away from her. Whatever. She could very well have had a ton of sexual encounters by now. The thought pissed him off. Wildly. He wanted to find the bastards who ever dared to touch her, cut their balls off and make a ball necklace that he’d wear like a trophy.

  Okay. Sick, caveman, plain weird. He didn’t have time to shake his head.

  “Condoms?” He asked as he crested the bathroom door and rounded into the hall.

  “I- uh… shit,” Alix cursed.

  He couldn’t say why that made him so happy, but he wanted to fist punch the sky. He wanted to click his freaking heels… while carrying her. He didn’t stop to think that whoever she might have hooked up with in the past would have had condoms so she didn’t have to worry. He was not going there. He was never fucking going there.

  “Chance’s room.”

  They both said it at the same time. He snorted. She giggled. He set her down in the hall, half naked, fully naked himself. Her eyes nearly bulged when she got a good look at him. At his dick. The bastard twitched in response, as obviously his ego was getting stroked. Big time.

  Alix let out a raspy breath. His cock twitched again.

  Her eyes glowed. It felt like his cock was going to rip right off and chase her down the fucking hall.

  “Have those jeans off by the time I get to your room,” he commanded in a voice that said he was totally out of control.

  “Okay,” she breathed, so breathless that it implied that she was too.

  He took off full tilt for Chance’s room, somehow managed to trip over his own feet, and flew headfirst into the nearest wall. He let out a string of curses that could rival even the filthiest sailor of old. He pulled back and inspected the five-inch dent he’d just put in the drywall. Whatever. He’d pay to have it fixed. It didn’t matter that his face was aching from literally breaking his fall. He’d been told he had a hard head. He had that to live up to as well.

  He burst into Chance’s room. As usual, it was a pig sty. His mom probably had to come clean it up just to keep things from sprouting legs and taking over the house.

  Ross checked the first obvious culprit. The nightstand. It was worn and beat up, even though it was basically brand new. He remembered the day Chance’s parents finally bought him a new bedroom set. Six months ago. He didn’t want to think about his parents ever having to know that he was so dirty, that he fucked chicks in his bed so hard, that he literally broke it and had to move onto other surfaces in the room.

  Surfaces. Fuck.

  There was a reason no one ever hung out in Chance’s room. For one, it was a pretty good chance that you’d actually contract an STD just by breathing the air in the place.

  He fumbled with the nightstand drawer, trying not to throw up all over when he thought about Chance and Chance’s room and anything related.

  The condoms probably weren’t even safe. At the moment though, he didn’t exactly care. He’d wash the fucking packets off. It beat running to the closest store completely butt naked and buying a box, because there was no way he was stopping to put his clothes back on and take them off.

  The drawer gave way and there they were. A string of red packets. Ross ducked his hand in, carefully- though the drawer appeared mercifully clean- and grasped one. He tore it off and read the wrapper.

  Extra large. Extra ribbed. Extra sensation.

  Dis-fucking-gusting.

  He never wanted to think about his best bud’s dick in any capacity. Whatever. It was going to have to do. As an afterthought, he grabbed two more.

  He peeled out of the room so fast that he just about wiped out in the hallway a second time. He sprinted down the length of hardwood floor fast enough to make even the best athlete jealous. He burst into Alix’s room to find her trying to peel her tight, wet, evil, cock blocking jeans off of herself.

  “They won’t come off! They’re way too tight because they’re soaked! They’re like one of those evil finger traps. The more you pull, the tighter they get!”

  “Get on the bed.” He pointed at her twin sized bed. The same one she’d had since
junior high when her parents bought her first bedroom set. She’d never had to replace her bed, thank fucking god.

  She hobbled over to the bed and threw herself across the mattress, legs sticking off. She had one of those headboards that had the slats between, real wood, and she gripped it with both hands.

  Right. Smart girl.

  Ross threw the condoms onto the nightstand and grasped the offending jeans. He was two seconds from finding a pair of scissors and cutting them the hell off. Luckily, with a few tugs, the bastards gave way, tearing down Alix’s lithe, perfect, shapely, pale legs with a sucking sound. It was the sexiest sound he’d heard in his life because it left her completely bare.

  “Where the hell are your panties?” He gaped.

  She stared back at him, completely expressionless. “I never wear panties.”

  Those words were like a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning straight from the heavens. He was done. Finished. So was his reputation, because there was no way he was going to last longer than thirty seconds with her.

  She turned on the bed, aligned herself with the covers and the mattress, and slowly, so damn slowly it was like watching a slow motion movie if that movie was a porno made just for him, by her, to drive him completely out of what was left of his mind, she opened her legs.

  She was perfect. Glistening. Soaked. Completely bald. Gorgeous.

  “Fuck, Alix,” he swore again. “Just… fuck.”

  She winked at him, oddly composed. “I already told you I’m game.” She crooked a finger. “Now. Come here already, or I’ll think you changed your mind.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Alix

  This is happening. This is really freaking happening.

  Ross Rivers was in her room. Alone with her. Naked. She was naked too. Strangely enough, she wasn’t losing her mind. She wasn’t freaking out. She wasn’t attacking him. Or his really crazy big erection. She wasn’t the one who had started it. She was oddly composed on the outside. She wasn’t even freaking out on the inside.