Under Fire (Blue Collar Alphas)

by Aria Cole

  My hands trembling, I held the glass and took slow, deliberate sips. His eyes looked confused, menacing, and soft all at once. My eyes, of their own accord, shifted to his scar. I wondered how he’d gotten that violent slash on his face, how it must feel to have scars showing for the world to see.

  I knew all too well about scars. How they were ugly and deformed from the outside in. Daunting slashes scraped across layers of delicate flesh. Maxwell wore his scar on his face; I wore mine on the inside. My scars destroyed me and made me run; his seemed to have destroyed him and made him hide.

  Maxwell clasped my face. His rough palm, though formidable, was remarkably gentle. My breath hitched at his touch. I longed for it. It both excited me and left me agitated. I didn't trust it.

  He slowly moved his hand, brushing his fingers ever so gently along my arm. His touch felt like an artist’s brush and my body a blank canvas before him. I was nothing, yet his touch made me feel like a priceless work of art. I had never been touched like this before, and my body felt like an inferno. I could almost feel my molecules buzzing with warmth and about to ignite.

  His gentle palm roamed my skin and hovered just above my breastbone, as if he held me suspended by his invisible sexual energy, before his long middle finger made contact with the cotton between the rounded globes of my breasts. He dragged one finger down my rib cage, brushing over the soft dip of my navel, before stopping at my waistband. I shut my eyes, longing to get lost in his touch. I wanted to shut off everything and just feel. I wanted his fingers brushing my skin. I wanted to be his muse. I wanted him to make me forget. I wanted to be safe in his arms.

  “You’re a distraction,” he said.

  With my eyes still closed, I felt almost happy.

  His heavy hand clasped mine, leaving me feeling oddly protected and calm. Why was he doing this? Why was I letting him?

  “Help me put away the rest of these books.”

  In another breath, he was gone, the air absent of his protection, my mind reeling from his simple touch, my body burning up.

  “Sure.” Trying to get my bearings, I stumbled to the circulation desk and found my application in the trash and a stack of books that needed shelving. “You’re throwing my application away? Please, Maxwell, I need this job. I love books. I am well-read. My whole life was spent in the library. I’m a hard worker and very dependable.”

  “Got everything I need.” His eyes sparkled, and his beautiful lips twitched with a smile before he adjusted the collar of his crisp shirt.

  My gaze cast over the bronzed hollow of his throat, the sharp edge of his clavicle, down, down to the dusting of bronze hair peeking up over the top of his shirt. Maxwell Black was a disastrous distraction.

  “You were the only applicant anyway, so I didn’t have much of a selection.”

  I found my lips turning up on their own. This was my salvation, my escape. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It wasn't meant to be one. If I were giving you a compliment, beautiful Elle, you’d know it.” He moved his body behind me. “You’d feel it here,” he whispered at the nape of my neck and left shivers trailing down my body from his mere breath. “Definitely here.” His fingertips danced at the back of my thighs, inching higher before backing away again. “You’ll know when I want you.” His tone fell another octave and rumbled straight into my stomach, twisting my insides and coiling my core into a tightly wound spring.

  “Who says I want you?” I asked, my confidence weak in his presence.

  It was his turn to laugh as his belly chuckle filled the small space. I am determined not to show weakness. Men never protect. All this is a mirage, but I’m so thirsty.

  “We’ll see about that.” He followed closely behind me as I turned down the fiction aisle and shelved a Daphne du Maurier classic. “And, Elle?” His sexy voice singsonged; he was playful all of a sudden. “I like the chase. When you’re ready, you’ll like it too.”

  I nearly dropped the remaining books before I opened my eyes. He was gone again, his tall, burly figure already rounding the corner of the stacks.

  Damn him. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything, but I knew with every beat of my heart he would be nothing but bad for me. How could a man like that be good for anybody? And on top of all that, the scar. Whatever had happened to him hadn’t been pretty, yet a part of me wanted to find out. Maxwell intrigued me, and normally I was too frightened to be intrigued.

  So I lifted my chin and followed Maxwell, determined to stay in his good graces and keep this job. My life depended on it.

  Chapter 3

  Maxwell

  I woke the next morning; sweet little Elle and her curvy assets had been running through my dreams all night. I tossed my arm over my eyes to block the morning light before feeling my cock flex and jump beneath the cotton sheets. I needed a cold shower, or I was going to have to rub one out before heading down to the library in an hour. Being with her all day would be nearly torture. And Christ, I was supposed to teach her, be close to her, talk to her when all I wanted to do consume her, ravage her, fuck her until she forgot her own name.

  My gaze cast across my room to land on the old wooden chair next to the door. On it was the violet scarf I’d found on the coat rack last night after Elle had left. Her scarf. Her scent. Her. The beast in me growled, and before I could think twice, I was on my feet and sauntering naked across the room. My hands clasped the scarf as if I were an addict with a last hit of heroin.

  I brought the soft garment to my nose and inhaled. Fresh rain, a hint of vanilla, and strawberries. Not the packaged kind available all year long at the corner store grocery mart but real strawberries, sun-drenched and picked fresh from the field. I inhaled the enthralling scent, remembering the feel of her under my fingers last night. I was desperate to feel more of her.

  My cock stood heavy, my balls hanging low between my thighs, before I did the unthinkable and wrapped the pretty purple scarf around my thick cock. The fibers grated against the sensitive tip. Her fresh strawberry scent wrapped around my dick and invaded my nostrils. I pumped once, then twice, before bracing my other hand on the wall. My fist flexed as I pumped my length with more vigor.

  “Elle…” I roared a minute later.

  Long, hot spurts of fresh cum landed at my feet, a few drops spraying across the soft violet cloth and making my dick twitch at the thought of returning it to her with my scent, my manhood around her neck, claiming her from every goddamn man around. The primal caveman inside me wanted her. I couldn't explain it. I’d never been taken with anyone like this before. She was special, different. The feelings that twisted in my gut when I looked into her eyes told me all I needed to know. She’d walked straight out of my dreams and into my little town, and I would make her mine.

  I thrust a hand through my snarled hair and sped to the bathroom, buck-ass naked, before jumping into a chilly shower. I hopped and howled, just as I did every morning, before cranking the heat and washing my hair and body. I stepped out again, dead set on some coffee, thinking maybe I could relax with the morning paper now that I’d managed to calm my morning wood. I tossed on a pair of gray sweats then trotted down the back stairs that connected my second-floor apartment to the small library.

  Without turning on a light, I darted through the main room to the coffee maker perched next to the circulation desk. The aroma lured me in as I approached, thankful for the timer I’d started setting a few weeks ago once I realized a cup of coffee before work had become a routine.

  I turned and spun on one bare heel, but a shadow at the front door caught my eye. Nestled on one cement step was my dark-haired beauty, an old paperback tucked into her lap as she sat hunched and reading in the sunlight. I caught a glimpse of her elegant profile, the sun casting shadows across her cheeks and glinting off the shiny strands of her hair. She was like an angel perched on my doorstep, ready to fill my life with sweetness and love. Without thinking twice, I crossed the room and unlatched the door. The cool morning air bl
asted my chest and reminded me that I was nearly naked.

  Elle’s head turned, and her eyes hovered at my waist, where I imagined she saw two slashes of rigid muscle jutting into my waistband. I worked out. A lot. It was what I did in my free time to burn off excess energy. I was determined to stay big, remain a formidable force. I liked dominating a room when I entered it. I didn't want anyone to think I was weak.

  Elle’s eyes crawled up my waist and my broad pectorals before her gaze settled on my own, returning the intensity I felt pulsing between us.

  “Like what you see?” I winked. I was flirting with this girl and enjoying every one of her cute little reactions.

  “I guess I’m early.” She shot up, her eyes on her feet and the same scuffed boots she’d worn yesterday.

  Where had this girl come from? She’d seemed to waltz in like a stranger, and while I had no right to question anyone’s past, I was curious. Especially after her panic attack on my floor. She was so broken, and I longed to destroy those who had hurt her. How dare anyone clip the wings of something so beautiful?

  “Look at me,” I ordered, feeling my heart thud as I watched her dark chestnut waves whisper in the wind before her round eyes met mine.

  “W-what?” she said on a soft wave of air.

  I clutched the mug of coffee in my hand, my cock no longer sated from my early-morning incident with her strawberry-scented scarf. What the fuck was this girl doing to me?

  “Would you like coffee?” I gestured, unsure of anything else more meaningful to say.

  “No. Thank you.”

  “Well, you’re here.” I flashed her a meaningful smile. “I’ll go up and put some clothes on, then we’ll get started early, I guess.”

  I hated breaking my routine. I never opened the doors a minute earlier than posted, but I liked seeing Elle eager to please on my steps this morning.

  I liked her very much.

  “Should I stay?”

  I turned halfway up the steps to my flat to find her gesturing into the library or up the stairs with me.

  “You’re already this far.” I shrugged then continued up the steps.

  She followed me up. I could feel her checking out my ass. If only she knew I’d had my cock in my hands just twenty minutes ago, coming to her pretty face and intoxicating scent.

  “You left this last night.” I handed the scarf to her with a hint of a smile, thinking of it around my fist minutes ago and the ecstasy I’d gained. The thought of what it’d be like once I finally owned her, sheathing my cock in her deep depths. Would she taste like strawberry too?

  “Thanks.” She pulled the scarf from my hands, and our skin brushed, alerting my senses to the constant smell of sex and strawberries that wafted off her.

  Or was I making that up? Just a simple case of pheromones? I’d never dreamed about love at first sight, but no one had ever taken the air straight from my lungs on first sight before either, so anything was possible.

  “So now you’ve seen the lair.” I caught her arm. “Not so scary?”

  I leaned in, desperate for another scent of her. I inhaled and felt her shudder as goose bumps rippled across her skin in uniform salute. I heard the soft swallow of her delicate throat before she nodded.

  “So precious.” I darted my tongue out beneath her ear for a taste.

  She shivered, fear and arousal rippling through her voice as she said, “What are you doing?”

  “Tasting you.”

  I pressed my palm at her throat in a move that shocked her. Shocked her and turned her on, if I was reading the shifting thighs and tightening nipples right. I could have tweaked them right then, maybe even found out what shade of pink they were. She’d have let me. I could see it in the hooded eyelids, feel her lust gaining momentum, ready to crash between us.

  “You’re turned on, beautiful,” I teased and released. “But we’ve got training to do.” I ripped myself from her intoxicating gaze, handing her a file I’d pulled out last night. “Fill these out.”

  I walked down the long hallway, leaving her reeling and trying to make sense of my actions. Keeping her on her toes, that would be the game of the day. After last night, I needed to keep her in a playful mood. Something deep inside me wanted her to open up. To trust me.

  Continue Reading…

  Acknowledgments

  I have to thank my ever so loving and patient husband. You truly are my HEA, babe. <3

  Thank you to Aria's Assassins for keeping my fire burning. I am forever grateful for your love and cheerleading!

  I can't thank the ArdentProse team enough. You ladies make my life so much easier and I love you for it!

  To my ladies...the ladies that love to get lost in books about true and last lasting love... THANK YOU!!! Writing books you love is what keeps me going. You are my rock stars!

  About the Author

  Facebook

  GoodReads

  Twitter

  Instagram

  Newsletter

  Also by Aria Cole

  Black

  White

  Swan

  Scarlet

  Bending Bethany

  Chasing Charlie

  Taking Tessa

  The Long Ball

  Banger

  Cheeky Christmas

  Under Construction

  Under Her Hood

  Valentine For Hire

  Sweet Valentine

  The Modern Fairy Tale Collection