Alphas After Dark (9 Book Bundle of Sexy Alpha Biker Bad Boys)

by Vivian Arend

  “What? No, why would I do that?”

  Relief sweeps through me. It’s not that I thought he would tell, it’s just that I can’t take any chances. Mr. Stevens is a conservative guy and he’s already gone out on a limb by hiring me in the first place. The last thing I want to do is give him any reason to question that decision.

  “I don’t know. I just had to be sure. I need that job. Especially now that I just lost my second income.”

  Tank’s face doesn’t change but somehow I sense that I’ve offended him with the question. “I wouldn’t do that, Emma. It’s your secret to keep. Although you haven’t done anything wrong and have nothing to be ashamed of. Now where am I taking you?”

  I give him the address and then climb on the back of his motorcycle. He waits for me to adjust the helmet before he pulls out. I can tell he’s holding back for my sake. As strange as it seems, I wish he’d go faster. Really let loose. I want to know what it feels like to do something a little crazy. But true to form, I don’t ask him to. I just squeeze my arms tighter around his middle and lean against his back.

  He pulls up outside of the house. My heart sinks when I see the blue muscle car sitting next to Ivy’s silver sedan. Jon is here.

  I climb off the bike, awkwardly and hand Tank the helmet. “Thanks for the ride. And for what you did tonight. I know Sasha really appreciates it.”

  He flips up the front visor on his helmet. “I wish things had gone differently. My goal was to scare him, not get both of you banned.”

  I kick a loose pebble near my foot. I wish I could pretend that losing the job didn’t matter. But the loss of that income is even more important now. Mr. Marshall’s offer looms in my mind. One conversation with Tank and all my troubles could be over.

  “I had to deliver a package to your father today.”

  His face immediately closes up. “Did you?”

  “He’s a nice old man. He always asks me about school and how things are going.”

  “Yeah, he’s a model citizen all right. I’ll wait until you get in the house before I take off.”

  Something must show on my face because his eyes narrow. I can tell he’s about to say something else so I wave and walk toward the house. All I have to do is go inside and wait until he drives off. Then I can walk back to the law office. As soon as I close the front door behind me, I hear the sound of the motorcycle as he races off.

  I take a quick shower and then stuff some fresh clothes in my bag. There’s a soft thud against the wall that separates my room from the hallway. The door to my room is slightly ajar. I tiptoe to the door and peer through the crack out into the hallway.

  Ivy stands in the living room, staring at her phone. Jon comes up behind her and she suddenly puts it in her pocket. I can’t hear what they’re saying but when Jon grabs her wrist and yanks her toward him roughly, I gasp. I cover my mouth with my hand but they don’t seem to have heard me anyway. Ivy shoves Jon away and stalks back down the hall. He follows and then I hear her door slam.

  After the way Jon behaved this morning and what I just witnessed, this is the last place I want to be. I stand in the doorway, for a moment, listening. They don’t come back out so I grab my bag and head out. It’s exactly twelve minutes later when I lock the front door behind me and skip down the front steps.

  I want to weep at the thought of walking a little over a mile at this time of night. But my mind flashes back to this morning and I suddenly would rather be anywhere else. Jon has never been quite that blatant before. It’s usually just the lecherous looks and the comments. I made the mistake of telling Sasha last week that Jon was hitting on me and wish I hadn’t. She wasn’t exactly subtle with her offer to crash on the couch tonight. But I don’t need charity or to impose on my friends.

  Contrary to what she thinks, I’m not all heartbroken and depressed because my sister is being such a bitch to me lately. There was a time when Ivy would have stood up for me. Before our parents died, she would have told Jon he could take her or leave her. But ever since then, she’s been different. I’ve been different, too. I can hardly fault her for changing when I’m not the same person either.

  It’s eerily quiet as I pass the dark houses on my street. There’s no one out this late. I hook the long strap of my messenger bag over my head so it doesn’t get in the way. No doubt I’ll have blisters by the time I get there but I should be able to curl up on the sofa in the waiting room and catch a few hours of sleep before Mr. Stevens comes in for the day. It’s embarrassing enough that he knows I do it but to have him catch me would be even worse.

  I turn the corner onto the main road. It borders a wooded area that always gives me the creeps. So when a dark shape moves out of the corner of my eye, I whirl around, my bag slapping me in the back of my thighs, fists at the ready.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Once it registers who it is, I scream in frustration. “Tank! What in the hell are you doing? You almost gave me a heart attack!”

  “Where are you going, Emma?”

  “None of your business.”

  He taps his fingers against the helmet resting on his thigh. “Is there some reason you don’t want to go home?”

  He’s going to make me say it out loud. “Do you just get off on annoying me or what?”

  “Something like that.”

  It’s the lack of pity in his eyes that tears the words from my mouth. It’s the understanding. Like he’s been in my shoes a time or two and knows how much it sucks.

  “My sister’s boyfriend is there and he’s just … I just, don’t want to be there, okay?”

  He nods, a quick perfunctory motion, like he was just waiting for me to finish so we could move on. “Get on.”

  “Wait, what? I just told you I’m not going back there.”

  He starts the engine and the loud sound startles me in the stark quiet of the night. “I know. You’re coming home with me.”

  At any other time I would have a million arguments ready. I’d rail at him for making assumptions or make a joke about “what kind of girl do you think I am?”

  But it’s late. It’s dark. And he represents the only safety I’ve had in a long, long time. So I do something that makes no sense.

  I get on the back of his bike and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  He pulls out and this time he’s not holding back the way he did on the way here. Maybe he can sense the wildness growing inside me, the restless need I have to just feel. Something. Anything other than helpless. We arrive at an apartment building on the other side of town. He takes the helmet from me and stows it on the back of the bike along with his own. I follow him into the building and up several flights of stairs. We stop on the third floor. He unlocks it and then punches buttons on a keypad next to the door.

  As we enter, his eyes are constantly moving, surveying the room and the hallway behind us. I can see why he’s so good at his job. I get the sense that he’s always on the alert for trouble.

  “I like your place.”

  He narrows his eyes at me, as if searching to see if the comment is sincere or snarky. “There’s nothing in here but a couch and a television.”

  I shrug. “Yeah, but it’s yours. There’s no one here to take your stuff or kick you out. I like it.”

  He sets his helmet on the kitchen counter and then drops down on the couch. “When you put it that way, I like it too. Do you want something to drink? I’ve got some sodas, fruit juice and I’m sure there’s some bottled water somewhere. Or, are you hungry?”

  I hold up a hand before he goes into a detailed account of the type of food he has here. All I really want is to crash but I’m not exactly sure how this is going to work. His couch looks really comfortable but he’s sitting there now and doesn’t look like he’s planning on moving anytime soon.

  “Truthfully, I’m exhausted. If I wait any longer, I’ll fall asleep on my feet.”

  “Right. Follow me.” He stands in one fluid movement and gr
abs my hand. I’m so stunned that I don’t even yank it back. His palm engulfs mine and when I look down to where our fingers entwine, the size of his hand makes mine look like a child’s.

  “Let me just strip the sheets for you.” He drops my hand as we enter a bedroom and I rub my palm absently, already missing the contact. Tank doesn’t look like the kind of guy who does housework but he strips the bed of all the linen with the efficiency of someone who’s done it a thousand times in his sleep. He disappears and I’m left standing next to the bed with nothing to do. Shouldn’t I be helping?

  I look at the book on the night table next to the bed. There’s a picture of a soldier on the front. The comforter at my feet is a dark hunter green. The closet is open slightly, revealing several sets of fatigues and black combat boots. He hasn’t come back yet so I wander over to the dresser and pull open the first drawer. It’s filled with boxer briefs. I slam the drawer shut.

  “Find what you were looking for?”

  I turn around slowly. “This is your room!”

  He laughs softly then bends to spread the clean sheets in his arms over the mattress. “What gave me away? My superior design skills or was it that warm, cozy feeling from the military fashions on display?”

  “I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own bed.”

  “Unless you’re willing to share it then I’ll be on the couch.”

  “I could take the couch. I’m smaller and I don’t need as much room. That makes way more sense.”

  “Yeah, no.”

  I want to argue but then he picks up my hand and puts a folded towel and washcloth into my arms. My stomach tightens as our fingers brush. The warmth of his hands linger even after he lets go.

  “There’s no way I’m putting you on the couch. I’ve slept worse places, believe me. I’ll be fine. Let me know if you need anything else.” He backs away slowly, holding my gaze the entire time.

  My blood heats at the intense look in his eyes. His shoulders are so broad they take up the entire doorway. All of a sudden, I remember him fighting off those guys. There was no hesitation on his part. He just jumped in front of me and took control of the situation. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.

  Just before he hits the hallway, he says, “I’m glad you’re here Emma.”

  I should be saying that to him. The weirdest thing is, I have the sense that he really is glad I’m there. We don’t know each other that well and probably have nothing in common. He took out both of Paul’s thugs tonight and a bunch of those drunk guys, too without breaking a sweat. I can’t pretend his brutality doesn’t scare me but he took those hits for me.

  So in this moment, I’ve never felt safer in my life.

  When I wake it’s still dark and my heart picks up rhythm as I take in the unfamiliar environment. Then memory returns and I know where I am.

  I’m with Tank.

  Strangely enough, I’m completely comfortable. I smile at the thought. I never thought I’d be so comfortable in a random guy’s bed. I turn over and collide with a warm, incredibly wide chest. A naked chest.

  “Whoa, it’s all right.” Tank’s deep voice grumbles through the darkness.

  I should be pushing him away, climbing out of the bed. Instead I’m shocked into stillness. His hand travels up the bare skin of my arm and stops at the base of my neck. Goosebumps follow the path of his fingers. The man can turn me to mush with just one touch.

  “What are you doing in here?” My voice comes out as a high-pitched squeak. He’s so close that I can feel the soft puff of his breath against my hair. Part of me wishes it wasn’t so dark so I could see for myself if he’s just as built as he looks under all that leather.

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I have shorts on. You were having a nightmare.”

  “I was?” I wrap my arms around myself and curl up into a ball. I haven’t had nightmares since my parents died. I used to dream of my mother and what she was wearing that day. All dressed up for a night on the town with my dad. You’d think the fact that she was so happy would be a comforting image. Instead, it tormented me for months that she could be so happy and have it all taken away in a matter of moments.

  “Yeah. I wasn’t trying anything, I swear. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed to sleep better with me here, so I stayed.”

  In my sleep-muddled state, I answer with more candor than I otherwise would have. “What girl wouldn’t sleep better next to you?”

  His chest rumbles beneath my palm. “Miss Shaw, are you flirting with me?”

  Before I can think of an answer, there’s a soft snore. He’s asleep again. The soft rumbling sound lulls me to sleep and I don’t wake again until the next morning.

  When I open my eyes, Tank is watching me. It’s an odd thing to look at someone this close up. His dark hair is spiked up all over his head and his eyes are still heavy with sleep. He doesn’t try to pretend like he’s not looking either. His eyes take in the full image of my face and what I’m sure must be messy hair then down to where my breasts mold against the thin fabric of the T-shirt I borrowed.

  Most of the girls who wait tables at the Black Kitty are used to those types of looks from men. Guys aren’t that picky, especially when beer goggles are involved. They all do the same thing: they squint as they picture what’s under your clothes and then there’s that slightly glazed over look as they imagine what they’d do to you. It’s usually the grossest feeling ever.

  But with Tank, it’s different. My body reacts immediately, my nipples blooming and pressing against the fabric. His gaze is like a touch; it awakens every one of my nerve endings. Heat blooms out from my core and spreads throughout me. Within moments I’m completely wet and ready for him.

  “Were you watching me sleep?” I whisper.

  When his eyes raise to mine, I see the answering desire there. There’s a tension in his big body that tells me he can deliver on every inch of the promise his eyes are making.

  “Good morning, buttercup.” He kisses me softly, one hand sliding into my hair to cup my head. I’m so shocked that I don’t do anything at first. Then he kisses me again and my hands drift up to his hair. I curl my fingers through the thick strands. He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat.

  He likes that.

  I pull him down on top of me and then my hands are in his hair again. He’s so warm and everything about this feels so right. Waking up, sleepy and soft with this gorgeous hunk of man in my bed.

  He shifts, allowing the full weight of his big body to press me into the mattress. It’s all chemical, the insanely seductive way he smells, the erotic taste of his tongue in my mouth and the ache between my legs as he presses right up against my core. I’m burning up and surely he can feel it. My arms wrap around his shoulders and trace over the muscles that flex under my touch.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbles. “But I’m no angel and you are so beautiful.”

  He inches down, his lips leaving soft kisses on my neck, my breastbone, then my stomach where the shirt I borrowed has ridden up. I squirm beneath the soft touches, especially as they get lower. His tongue dips into my belly button and then bites the swell below gently. I shudder under the assault, my hips pressing up with a will of their own.

  He looks up at me, his eyes so dark and intense they look black. Then his head dips and his mouth settles over my sex.

  “Tank!” I cry out again as he nips me through the fabric of my panties. He grabs the sides and pulls them down. The slide of the fabric against my skin is so erotic, especially when he sits back slightly and then looks at what’s between my legs like he’s never seen anything he wants as much. His eyes fall closed and he takes a deep inhale.

  “I want your taste.”

  “Yes, please.” I can’t even think let alone understand anything he’s saying. All I can see is that intense look in his eyes as he leans down and his tongue curls around my clit.

  He settles himself between my knees, his big body pushing
my legs out to make room for him. It’s the most shameless feeling, being in his bed with my legs spread while he tongues me. But I’m not sure how much shame I have left, whatever I started with slowly dissolving as he pushes his tongue into my pussy. I can’t do anything except splinter into a million pieces as he explores the lips of my sex and his hands cup my ass, pulling me forward for each thrust of his tongue.

  I’m still shivering when he kisses my belly and then my neck. As he settles on top of me again, I soften beneath him, ready for him to strip my shirt off and finally have me completely naked. He kisses me and I can taste myself on his tongue. It just makes me hotter, sends my desire skyrocketing. I’m ready for him to make me come while he takes me. There’s nothing I want more than to watch those incredible eyes as he finds his own pleasure.

  I’m mindless and I want him to do something, anything that will put me out of this misery. But even as I arch under him, pressing upward, rubbing myself against him, he’s slowing things down. The frantic coupling of our tongues changes to soft, suctioning kisses. His hands slide under my bottom but not to pull me closer, to hold me still.

  “Tank, please.” It should embarrass me that I’m essentially begging. But I’ve never felt this before, this all-consuming heat. This blinding desire to have him inside me. I’ve wanted men before but I’ve never felt this out of control. This needy.

  “So sweet,” he mutters. “So damn sweet.”

  He rolls to the side and pushes his face into the pillow next to me. I can hear his gasping breaths and I can definitely feel the iron-hard rod pressing against my thigh. What I don’t understand is why he’s stopped? Then as my heart rate slows down some, my reason returns. I put a hand over my mouth.

  I just dry humped him like I was in heat.

  “I’ll get out of here so you can get ready.” He pulls back and rolls over, presenting me with his back. I watch as he stands and then pulls on his jeans. Then he’s gone.

  This is the most awkward thing I’ve ever experienced. How do you handle a morning after that isn’t really a morning after? Tank has now seen me with mascara trailing down my cheeks and hair that’s snarled into a bird’s nest of knots and we haven’t even gone on a date.