Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart

by Opal Carew, Cathryn Fox, Eve Langlais, T. J. Michaels, Teresa Morgan, Sharon Page, Mandy Rosko, S. E. Smith, Pepper Winters

  "You did? Why?" I sip tea, sure I’m blushing.

  "I don’t know. You were so attentive and you looked completely fascinated by calculus proofs."

  I blush. He witnessed my geekiness.

  "I found I paid more attention, just to see what intrigued you so much. And I love the way you look in glasses. You just look smart."

  I am stunned. The things that made me look awkward in high school seem to be what interested him about me. Of course, I wore contacts tonight. "Are you in engineering?" I ask. "What are you going to specialize in? I’m intending to do soils engineering." Now that I know he’s not afraid of geekdom, I can talk openly to him.

  He grins. "That’s my plan too. Geological and soils engineering. I’d like to get a good job for an oil company. That way I could look after my mom and my sisters."

  The soup comes to our table, served by a small, slim woman in a floor-length blue satin dress.

  The soup, spicy and flavored with lime, makes me think I’ve died and gone to heaven.

  "This is incredible," I say softly to him.

  "Wait until you try the curry."

  I’m nervous. I’ve always assumed on a date I should try to be…perfect. But I have no idea how to do that. "I’ve never tried curry before. It sounds far more exotic than anything I’ve ever eaten." And strange, too, but I don’t say that. Coconut milk, bamboo shoots, red curry paste. "The most adventurous I’ve been in my past was eating chili."

  As the dishes are set in front of us, along with sticky jasmine rice, Sawyer asks me about my hometown. And my family.

  For a first date, I know I should avoid talking about sad and intense things, but when he hears I have a younger brother he asks me questions. Finally I admit, "My brother was sick for a lot of the time I was in high school. He has colitis, and he experiences a lot of pain with it."

  "I’m sorry," he says gently. He touches my hand. Just a soft stroke of his fingers. I’ve never felt anything like it. It feels soothing and sweet, but it also steals my breath.

  "My mom was sick," he says. "She’s had a couple of bouts with cancer. It’s not the same as when it happens to a kid brother or sister, but I think I understand a little of what you’ve gone through."

  "Now it’s my turn to say I’m sorry. Is she all right now?"

  Sawyer nods. "After the last round of chemotherapy and radiation, she’s in remission."

  "That’s so good to hear. Does she live far away from here?"

  "She lives in the middle of the country now, near my older brother." He offers me more of the plates—we were served communal plates of red chicken curry, green curry, stir-fried vegetables, and something incredibly amazing with beef and kaffir lime and coriander.

  "This food is incredible. Thank you for bringing me here."

  "You’re welcome." He smiles again. "My mom is the one who taught me to appreciate incredible food like this. On weekends, she would make her own curry pastes for Thai curries and blend spices for Indian dishes. She taught me to appreciate spicy food." He sips his tea. "She’s always been slender and healthy, and she eats stuff like vegetables all the time. I could never figure out how she got sick."

  "That’s how I felt about my brother. I used to ask: what did we do wrong? But we didn’t do anything wrong."

  "No, you didn’t," he says. "Sometimes fate is a bitch."

  My throat catches. I’ve thought that so many times.

  I realize he’s looking intently at my eyes. "Sorry," he says. "I shouldn’t get so depressing on a first date."

  "It’s okay. I understand. I know how hard it is to try to talk about unimportant stuff when you’re worried about someone."

  "I want to find out more about you, Claire. That’s really important to me."

  Under the table, my knees quiver. Seriously.

  When we leave the restaurant, he slips his arm around my waist. Walking beside him, I feel tiny. My head reaches his shoulder. A cool autumn wind whirls leaves around our feet as we walk. We leave his car, as it’s only two blocks to the theatre.

  Westingham’s movie theatre is in an old clapboard building and it plays up the small New England town feel. Movie posters are tacked up outside.

  Sawyer says it’s my choice—he’s happy to watch anything I want. There’s a romantic comedy, an action movie, and a serious drama. I go for the comedy. I figure there should be enough raunchiness built into it to make it guy-acceptable.

  We take a seat near the back. I have the popcorn on my lap and I’m munching (it’s drenched in that gooey buttery stuff—oh yeah), when Sawyer puts his arm around me again. My heart leaps as his fingers stroke my shoulder.

  Does he think this is the lead up to a one night stand? What if he does? I asked him for one. Could I actually do it?

  The truth is, I really, really want him. But to jump right into bed with him?

  I ache to do something physical to him in the theatre. Run my foot along his? Touch his leg? Kiss him?

  I’m paralysed by a lack of daring when suddenly a woman on screen yanks off her shirt and two of the largest breasts in history bounce toward the camera. She’s supposed to be attempting to seduce the hero. I guess the hero’s struggle is that if he’s true to love, he doesn’t get to play with the huge boobs.

  I squirm a little in my seat and shoot a glance at Sawyer. A lot of the guys in the audience are laughing, obviously attempting to deal with the sudden shot of arousal over being faced by boobs that could smother them.

  Sawyer looks…bemused. That’s the only word to describe it. He has one brow raised. Then he bends over to me. "Sorry. I had no idea it was this kind of movie. You okay with it? We could go."

  "Uh, I’m okay."

  His mouth is so close to mine. Then he leans in that last inch and his mouth covers mine. He tastes of butter-stuff from the popcorn. Of heat. His lips are so soft, but firm too. He captures my lower lip between his, tugs lightly, lets me go.

  Desire rushes through me. I really squirm on the seat.

  On screen, the large breasts are bouncing over the hero’s head. Sparkly red heart-shaped pasties cover her nipples—to get the appropriate rating, I guess. If the nipples aren’t bare, all that wobbly naked flesh is okay.

  Sawyer isn’t paying any attention to the defy-gravity boobs. His lips brush my ear. It is barely a touch, but I feel like he just stroked me with a sparkler. Hot, tingly, sizzling.

  I turn and kiss him on his gorgeous, sensual lips. In my excitement—and nervousness—I do it too hard. His kiss was slow and seductive. I know mine is clumsy.

  His hand comes up and I expect he’s going to break the kiss. Instead, he tenderly cups my cheek and guides me, turning my awkward attempt into a hot, sensual open-mouthed ecstasy of a kiss.

  I’m necking in a theatre. I’ve never done this.

  I always thought it was weird that kissing is acceptable—that no one thinks much of it, and it’s okay to do it in public. It’s your mouth engaged with someone else’s mouth. It seems like the most intimate thing in the world, since your mouth is part of your head. When I think about it, joining private parts seems like a more distant form of contact than mouths.

  Of course I would never voice these things. I would sound geeky, weird, socially strange.

  Sawyer’s kiss makes me spin. I feel like I’m whirling in dizzying circles. And I want more. Daringly, I touch his forearm. It’s like stroking iron, even through his jacket.

  "I should put the popcorn on the floor," I murmur against his mouth.

  He moves it for me, then his strong arm slides around me and he draws me into a deep kiss that sets me on fire.

  His seductive mouth melts me, turns me into a gasping, moaning puddle of desire. I’m floating in the heat he exudes, in the sexy, unique scent of his skin. He moves from my mouth and nuzzles my jaw, then my neck. My head falls back as I go weak with desire. I moan way too loud.

  People turn. I clamp my hand over my mouth. Look at Sawyer with horror.

  "I’ll stop," he murmu
rs.

  "No. Let’s get out of here."

  "My place?" he says.

  Maybe this is it. Where our date moves into a hot sexual encounter and I get to try everything I’ve dreamed of with the most gorgeous guy on earth. Not to mention a guy who kisses like a god. A guy who saved a little boy’s life by being smart, observant, and having quick reflexes.

  "Yeah. Your place sounds good," I say. This could be it—my night to experience sex, if I want to. Inside, I’m trembling with uncertainty.

  * * *

  We reach his house, and three of his roommates are sprawled on a large sofa in the living room, watching a horror movie. The fourth, who has a shaved head, large dark eyes, and copper-brown skin is in the kitchen, stirring pasta. A girl watches him cook, while she drinks a huge glass of red wine. Sawyer introduces me to them all, but I’m so fixated on wondering what is going to happen next—trying to guess what Sawyer wants and decide what I want, that I don’t remember their names.

  Sawyer holds my hand, threading his fingers through mine. "Do you want to go to my room?"

  I am struck dumb by the physical contact. Then stutter. "Y-yeah."

  I guess this is how the one night stand happens. His room is the only place we’ll have privacy. I want to be alone with him. I want to kiss him more. I want him.

  The problem is that I want him, but I never dreamed of going to bed with a guy I barely know. If I do it, I do it with the acceptance that this will probably be just for this night. No matter how exciting and thrilling it is, it may never happen again.

  I like Sawyer. That’s what makes my stomach clench in knots.

  I want to see him again. Have a date with him again. Talk to him again.

  Definitely kiss him again.

  He opens the door to his room and I step inside.

  So many things hit me at once. His bedroom is huge. So is his bed. I’m in the room he does the most intimate things in, like sleep. Get naked. Has sex.

  One glance at the bed and I picture Sawyer on top of it. On top of me. I can imagine how beautiful his naked back would be. Wide, wide shoulders. Big muscles beneath smooth, velvet skin. And my hands clutching his back as he thrusts into me—

  I almost sway on my feet as desire streaks through me.

  He closes the door and leans his elbow against it, bending down to me. I have my back against the door, gazing up at him. I barely come up to his shoulder.

  With his full, soft lips that are almost pouting right now, he has the sexiest mouth I’ve ever seen.

  That mouth touches mine.

  Sparks more than fly. They shoot though my body and burst into flame.

  Sawyer presses me back against the door. The kiss gets so deep, it’s bottomless. I wrap my arms around his neck, press my breasts to him. For once, I’m pleased I have fairly generous breasts.

  We kiss forever. It feels endless. With each second, I grow hotter and hotter. My heart races. Races because I love kissing him, I’m so aroused I could scream, and because I’m certain, at any minute, he’s going to lead me to the bed.

  And I might lose my virginity.

  Other than in wild fantasies, I always thought my first time would be preceded by a relationship. But I’ve never wanted a guy with such ferocious lust. Not even Trey.

  My hands glide over Sawyer’s shoulders. I breathe in the scent of his skin, his hair. Musky but clean. I want to be underneath him while he pounds wildly into me.

  Sexual need actually hurts. It hurts bad.

  Tension tightens inside me. Say yes. Say no. The warring battle in my head is going to consume me.

  I’m about to scream, and in wild desperation, I pull back from his mouth. He’s gorgeous and I’m tired of waiting for a relationship. I’m nineteen. "I know you just do one night stands," I say. "And I want one."

  He looks at me, his arm braced against the door over my head. "Not with you, Claire."

  Not with me?

  Then he leans down and he kisses me like a god. I’ve read in romance novels about kisses that are scorching. Masterful. Steamy. Dizzying.

  Orgasmic. His are almost orgasmic. I’m panting into his mouth, so hot and needy that I fight not to whimper.

  Is it because I haven’t really kissed before? Or is this all Sawyer?

  He stops and strips off his shirt. I watch the hem slide up, revealing his flat washboard abs, his navel, then the taut, hard muscles of his wide chest. He’s lean and hard. He’s…perfect.

  But what does he mean—not with me? "You want me to go?" My voice catches.

  "I don’t want just one night with you."

  I’m trying to process that as he takes my hand and leads me to his big bed.

  At the side of his bed, I take a deep breath. I free my hands from his; haul off my pink sweater, revealing my breasts cupped in my bra.

  Next thing I know, I’m on my back on his bed. His head bends to my breasts, held in my simple bra. I’m not built like the rom-com girl with the huge bazooms, but my chest is respectable.

  I reach behind and unhook my bra, so he knows what I want.

  His strong, big hands draw it off my shoulders, tosses it off the bed. Flicking out his tongue, he caresses my nipples. I’ve always dreamed of having my breasts played with. The idea of being able to stroke the silky hair of a guy I loved while his mouth was on my nipples—

  Oooh, shivers.

  I had no idea Sawyer would want to give my breasts so much attention. He licks them and caresses them with his strong hands. My nipples get erect and long. He sucks them so hard his cheeks hollow.

  "Oh God!" I shout. It’s amazing. My brain—once praised for its intelligence—feels like a bowl of instant oatmeal. Steaming hot and complete mush.

  When he grazes my nipples with his teeth, it’s so intense I moan really loud. Shake-the-walls loud.

  "You have the sexiest moan."

  I wrap my arms around his neck and feel the muscles under my touch. While he sucks and sucks my breasts, my moans get louder. My hips squirm. I’m bare-chested but wearing jeans.

  "Are you sure you don’t want to do more?" I ask. He has a huge bulge in his jeans.

  He kisses my earlobe. "I’d like to go down on you."

  That surprises me. I should be asking what he likes. But I’m so stunned I say, "Okay."

  He smiles. I love his grin so much. It’s wicked. Dazzling. He kisses his way down my naked torso. I watch him in utter disbelief. I can’t believe this gorgeous guy is doing this to me.

  He looks up, his chin at the waistband of my jeans. "I’m not going too fast for you, am I?"

  I have my hands on my breasts now, covering them. I suppose that probably made him think I wasn’t ready. But I do want this. "No. After all, I asked you if you wanted to…well, you know."

  "After tonight, that doesn’t seem like you, Claire. Admittedly, I don’t know you really well. But even the night you asked me, I didn’t think that was genuinely what you wanted."

  I’m still warring with myself. I want Sawyer like crazy physically but I don’t really know anything about him. Other than that he sleeps around.

  But if I say no, I’ll end up going home and I know I’m going to regret walking away.

  Isn’t that a reason to stay?

  "It’s what I want with you." Okay, despite the words, did my tone of voice make that sound like: "I want more out of this than you probably want to give?"

  He gives his head a quick shake because his blond hair is falling in his eyes. While I’m transfixed by how hot he looks doing that, he undoes the fastening of my jeans.

  I have never had a guy’s hands do that, obviously.

  It is soooo hot.

  He draws down the zipper, opens them, plants at kiss on my panties where my curls are hidden beneath. I don’t shave or anything. Except for the summer, and that’s just to wear a bathing suit. Not a really revealing suit either.

  Now I’m nervous.

  I’ve never been naked with anyone.

  I bite my lip, deter
mined to plunge in. I lift my hips and shove my jeans down to my thighs. Take that, high school insecurities.

  Only one thing can follow a wild move like that. I shove down my underwear, managing to get it somehow tangled with my jeans, trapping my thighs together. Sawyer takes over, whisking off my jeans and my panties. They land somewhere on his floor.

  I’m naked. On the bed of a guy I barely know.

  I never quite dreamed this would really happen—

  Sawyer puts his beautiful mouth to my...uh, pubis.

  Pubis. Yeah, that’s the trouble with me—I can’t even think sexy. I open and shut my eyes a dozen times, afraid I’m dreaming. But he’s still there, this gorgeous guy with violet eyes and sun-kissed blond hair kissing my pussy.

  He flicks his tongue out and licks my clit. I clutch the sheets of his bed. Behind my closed lids, it looks like comets are shooting by. He’s incredible. I mean, I could barely find my own clit in the folds of my pussy lips if I were blindfolded and had to do it with one touch. But he knows exactly where to go.

  His tongue circles my sensitive clit, Pleasure streaks through me. My hips lift off the bed. I have to open my eyes so I can see him—

  This is the hottest thing ever, watching him kiss and lick my clit. His long dark lashes shield his eyes. He puts his lips gently over my throbbing, aching nub.

  Then he sucks hard.

  "Sawyer!" I shriek his name.

  In a loud holler which his roommates must have heard. He licks and sucks and I rock my hips up to him. God, he’s tasting me and teasing me, and I think I’m going to come.

  His fingers stoke my pussy lips, making them ache and tingle, while his tongue pleasures my clit. I want him inside me. Deep inside me. So far inside that his groin slams my clit with every hard thrust. I imagine him going crazy on me, fucking me hard and wild and fast—

  His index finger slides in my pussy. I’m a virgin but years of masturbating have made me very ready for this. His other index finger strokes my anus.

  That I’m not prepared for. His finger goes just a little inside my ass. At first I freeze with shock. It’s so sensitive. But it teased me. It feels so good. He licks my clit and plays with me and I’ve never felt like this. So wound up. So ready to—