Alpha Knight

by Rose, Renee Rose

  I grab his t-shirt from the floor and pull it over my head, not quite so immodest.

  When he comes back, he says, “I wrapped the condom up in a bunch of toilet paper. Think it’s okay? Who empties the garbage?”

  “Oh! Um, I’ll make sure to take it out.” Oh God, I think I’m blushing.

  Bo reaches for me, settling his hands on my waist, stroking the fabric of his t-shirt over my sides. “I like you in my clothes. A lot.”

  Lord help me, he seems sincere. And that, more than anything, terrifies me.

  The cat and dog frenemy thing we had going worked for me. I knew how to play it. But this? This I can’t handle.

  He wraps a big paw behind my head and pulls my face up to his for another knee-weakening kiss. I want to surrender to it. Want to surrender to him—to just give into whatever the hell this is, whatever the hell he wants.

  But it’s too dangerous.

  My heart can’t be in play here.

  I need to have enough cash by the time mafia dude gets back, or I’m screwed. And Bo is a distraction, at best. More of a liability. And if we get caught together by the police, they will be quick to draw lines between us. I could end up in jail. Bo could end up with charges against him, and he’s done nothing. And Rikki would end up naked in a cage with a ball gag in her mouth.

  “Bo.” I press my hands against his chest and turn my face away. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  He catches my jaw and turns me back to him. Our foreheads almost touch, but the mood has shifted dramatically. A wire of tension runs through him. He’s hyper alert, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. What I’m up to. “Not happening, sugar.”

  “You’re not solving Winslow’s problems sticking around. You hang with me tomorrow, and your life could turn out way worse.”

  “You’re on another job?”

  Not much gets by this guy.

  I swallow and nod. I have to steal and sell a car tomorrow, which means there’s no time for getting a title. I’ll have to go the most dangerous, stupid route for car thieves. Take it across the border to Mexico and be lucky to get a third of its value.

  I have a name and a phone number of a guy to call when I get a car, and he’ll give me instructions for the meet up.

  My chances of even making it out of the country without getting picked up are slim, but I have to try.

  His grip on my jaw tightens. “Why, Sloane? What’s the pinch?”

  I can’t pull away, he’s holding me too tightly. I catch his wrist and tap it, pleading for mercy. “Let me go.”

  His eyes narrow, but after a beat, he releases me and curses. He stalks over and picks up his boxer briefs and steps into them.

  “Winslow wouldn’t want you to be a part of this. So walk away now, Bo. You’ve punished me enough. Don’t fuck up your own life.”

  He stands still, staring out the window like he’s thinking it over. I try to walk past him to find some shorts to pull on, but he catches me around the waist, pulling my back up against his front.

  My breath leaves me in a whoosh.

  His arm is like an iron band, but his head rests against mine, like we’re slow dancing. “I’ll leave in the morning,” he murmurs against my ear.

  A flush of warm tingles wash over me.

  He’s staying for me. I mean, for him. Because he wants to be with me.

  Not to torture me. Not to find Winslow.

  He wants to spend the night.

  I want him to spend the night, too.

  Especially now that I know he’ll leave. I cover his forearm with my hand and squeeze. He nips my ear, and then suddenly, I’m off my feet, up in his arms.

  He carries me to the bed and tosses me on it.

  The head board hits the wall, and I put a finger to my lips in warning.

  He just grins down at me, his silver eyes glinting dangerously in the lamplight. Beautiful.

  “How do you not have a girlfriend?” I blurt. It really seems impossible.

  He shrugs. “Because I’m a dick.”

  I laugh because it’s true. He is a dick. And also because it’s a lie. There’s so much more to him than that cocky swagger.

  He crawls over me. The dogtag slides across his perfect chest as he moves. “You wanna know what they call me and my friends at school?”

  More warmth floods me. He’s sharing a piece of himself. It’s a moment of normalcy between us. Something we haven’t had much of. “What?”

  “The alpha-holes. Because we’re all walking dicks.”

  I bring my hands to his thighs, squeeze to feel their hardness. Then I reach up and catch the military tag.

  Almost immediately, the air changes. He catches my hand to stop me from looking. We stare at each other.

  “Who died?” I ask softly.

  He’s silent for a moment. There’s an air of resentment in his stare, but he finally answers, “My dad.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He releases my hand, lets me turn the tag over and read it.

  Theodore Fenton, Navy SEAL.

  “How old were you?” I whisper.

  “Eight.”

  He drops beside me, the playfulness gone. But I can’t regret this moment. Seeing Bo’s wounds exposed.

  “Tell me yours,” he says after a beat.

  My what? I don’t ask, though. I know what he means. My wound. My pain. The thing I don’t want people to see.

  I can’t tell him about the mafia, but I can tell him what any asshole who googles me could find out.

  “My dad went to jail for embezzlement. That’s why I moved here.”

  Bo leans up on his forearm, his brows drawn together as he studies my face. He brushes a few strands of hair out of my eyes. “Yeah?”

  I nod. “We were wealthy. Lived in the best neighborhood. I drove my dad’s old Beamer to school. And then wham-o. One day the Feds showed up and raided the house. They arrested my dad and took all but my personal possessions. And I lost everything. He committed suicide in jail six weeks ago.”

  That’s the part I haven’t dealt with. Not at all. Not my guilt over not speaking to him after he went to prison. Over not opening the letters he sent before he died. The ones that might have held the information the don is trying to squeeze out of me.

  “Fuck, Sloane. That’s rough.” Bo traces his index finger lightly over my skin, starting at my collarbone and traveling down between my breasts, then around to circling one nipple. “Your mom?”

  “Died in childbirth. Me and my dad weren’t tight. He was pretty formal and distant, and I think he resented me for my mom’s death. But he was what I knew.”

  “Is your aunt his sister?”

  “No, my mom’s. So I barely knew her. She’s great, though. I should be more grateful to her for taking me in. I just hate—” my voice breaks, and I stop speaking. This is too much.

  Bo touches my chin to turn my face back. “Hate what?”

  Tears fill my eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. Tell me.”

  “I’m just tiptoeing around, afraid any day I’ll get kicked out and lose it all again. I mean, what happens when I graduate? There’s no money for college. I might get a little scholarship money, but not enough. I don’t even know what I’ll do.” And that’s if I even live past next month with the mafia situation.

  His fingers splay over my belly. “That’s why you’re stealing cars? For college?”

  I blow out a puff of breath. “No.”

  My answer came too quickly. I should’ve just let him believe it. It’s not a bad story.

  “Then why?”

  “Enough questions.” I try to roll away, but he catches me around the waist and tugs me back.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I’m surprised at his agreement.

  “Yeah, I’ll back off.” He settles on his back with his hands behind his head. I reach over and turn off the lamp.

  I want to stay turned away from him, but it feels wrong, so I roll over to face
him.

  “You still going to do the job tomorrow?”

  My stomach squeezes. I have to. The don will be back soon, and I’ve nothing on his bars of gold and painting. So I’d damn well better have something to give him. To buy my own freedom. “Yeah.”

  His breath comes out, like he’s disappointed. “I don’t want to help you,” he says into the darkness.

  His words hit my solar plexus like a blow. There’s resentment in them, and yet I understand the subtext. He doesn’t want to, but he does.

  “You’re not going to help me,” I say firmly. “Winslow made me swear not to make you a part of it.”

  “Then how are you going to sell it?”

  “I have a plan.” The defensive note to my voice probably clues him into the holes in my plan, but I don’t care. I’m not going to ask him to get involved. Although a quick paint job might give the heist a fighting chance of success. No—I’m keeping him out of it.

  “You have a plan.” His voice drips with disbelief.

  “Bo? If you’re staying tonight, you’re not going to be a dick.”

  In the darkness, I think I see the corners of his lips kick up. He rolls to bury his face in my neck. “Look at you, laying down the law,” he rumbles in my ear. He bites my neck, then kisses it. “Just because I let you ride on top doesn’t mean you’re calling the shots.”

  “Tonight I am.”

  I don’t know why I think I can. His threat from last night to turn me into the cops still stands, but we both know he won’t. Just like I wouldn’t alert my aunt to his presence. He’s going to let me call the shots simply because I’m calling them. Because despite his dickishness, he does respect me.

  And maybe because I let him punch my V-card tonight, but I don’t want to hang it on that, it’s too narrow and cliche.

  But yes, because we’ve been intimate—that’s why. Some of our barriers have come down, and there’s a new relationship growing underneath. Friendship, even. And friends respect each other’s boundaries.

  He kisses my neck again, and I take it as his agreement. With a big hand on my hip, he rolls me to face away from him and molds himself to my back. “Is this spooning?” he murmurs in my ear.

  I can’t stop the giggle from rising in my throat. “Yep.”

  “You’re my first spoon, Sloane McCormick.”

  “You’re my first ride.”

  He bites my shoulder. “You liked it.”

  “I did.”

  “Any time you wanna ride my cock, it’s at your service, princess.” Said anatomy twitches at my ass.

  “You know just how to ruin a moment, don’t you, Fenton?”

  He chuckles in my ear and pulls me closer. “It’s Fenton now, is it? Yeah, well, I told you I’m a dick. You should’ve believed it.”

  “And I told you...” I let the unspoken remainder of the sentence hang in the darkness between us. I don’t actually want to kick him out. This is the closest I’ve felt to another human being in a long time. Maybe ever. And my body’s purring with the pleasure he’s shown me and still providing.

  “You did. Shutting up.”

  “Thank you.” I snuggle back into him, warmth flowing through my limbs.

  Tomorrow we’ll sever these ties, but just for tonight, I get to enjoy the feeling of being held in a guy’s arms. A very hot, very wonderful guy who I can’t keep.

  Chapter 8

  Bo

  “Happy birthday, Sloane!” two chirpy female voices sing out.

  Fuck me!

  I roll off the far side of the bed and squeeze under it just as Sloane’s bedroom door swings wide.

  I’d heard the sound of voices downstairs, and I should’ve gotten up and dressed and out of here, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Sloane’s bed. Not when holding her felt so right.

  Not when leaving her meant saying goodbye.

  I watch two pairs of feet enter the room and stand inside the door. Then the voices break into a round of “Happy Birthday.”

  It’s sweet, but I fear Sloane’s too freaked out about my presence under the bed to appreciate it. I detect the scent of something sweet and chocolatey and the wax of a burning candle.

  “Oh my God, you guys. Thank you.”

  I love the rust in Sloane’s voice. It’s so damn sexy. She blows and the light scent of smoke reaches my nostrils. One candle, probably. In a cupcake. Or maybe a muffin.

  “Happy eighteenth, sweetie,” her aunt says. “I know this isn’t where you thought you’d spend it, but I want you to know how much we love having you here.”

  Sloane doesn’t answer at first—I’m guessing she’s holding back tears. “Thanks,” she says.

  “Any plans for today?”

  “Um… yeah. I’m going to meet up with Bo, my date from last night. We’re going to hang out all day. Maybe tonight, too, I’m not sure.”

  My gut tightens. I’d be satisfied if I thought it was true, but I realize immediately, I’m her cover.

  For the job she plans to pull today.

  And she’s right, I should just walk away and leave her to it. Walk away and never look back.

  But I don’t like the idea of her pulling this job on her own. I think she’s capable as shit, but she’s a human. Fragile. If she gets shot by cops, she won’t recover.

  I just don’t like it.

  “That’s great,” her aunt says from above the bed. “Well, maybe tomorrow we can celebrate your birthday together? Go out to dinner or something?”

  “Yeah, thanks. That sounds fun.”

  “Do you want your present now?” Rikki asks.

  “Oh, you didn’t have to get me a present,” Sloane protests.

  I’m suddenly pissed as hell I didn’t think to get her one. I knew it was her birthday today—I saw it on her license Thursday. But that seems like a million years ago. Before an ocean of change washed between us.

  Before I knew what her pain consisted of.

  Loss, but also unworthiness. She feels like an outsider—doesn’t think she belongs here in this townhouse, with these people. Sounds like she never belonged with her dad, either.

  And all I’ve done is grind in that sentiment a little deeper.

  Regret washes through me. No wonder she let me push her around—feeling blameworthy resonates for her.

  “We got you a present,” Rikki tells her. “Should we save it for dinner tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, let’s save it for the celebration,” Sloane says. The bed shifts as she climbs out of it. “I can’t wait.” Her bare feet move toward the bathroom. “I’m going to jump in the shower. Thank you for my birthday muffin.” She’s trying to get them out of the room. Clever girl.

  “All right, sweetie. There are more muffins downstairs if you want. Rikki made a whole batch.”

  “Thank you, Rikki. It’s delicious.”

  Her bedroom door shuts, and Sloane rushes over to the side of the bed where I’m sitting up.

  “Oh my God.” She covers her mouth with her hand and drops to her knees in front of me, stifling giggles. “I can’t believe you rolled off the bed so fast!”

  “Good thing they didn’t hear the thud of my body hitting the floor.” I grab her and pull her into my lap, dropping a kiss on her temple. “Happy birthday, princess.”

  “Ugh.” Clearly this birthday is a trigger for all that’s wrong in her life.

  Dammit.

  I want to fix it for her. All of it.

  And that’s impossible because I’m leaving today.

  All I can do is help her forget. I lift her out of my lap and stand up, then scoop her up into my arms.

  “What are you doing?” She kicks her legs.

  “Taking you to the shower. Isn’t that where you were going?” I carry her to the bathroom and silently turn the locks on both doors before I lower her to her feet.

  I turn on the water.

  She stands there with her arms folded across her chest, looking adorable in my t-shirt and her rumpled hair.

  I ho
ld my hand out. “Do you trust me?”

  A reluctant smile curls her lips. “Yeah. I don’t know why, but I do.” She puts her hand in mine. I tug my t-shirt off over her head, then drop the boxer briefs to the floor and lead her into the tub.

  I pick up the bar of soap and roll it in one hand, gathering lather. “All right birthday girl. Tell me how you want to come.”

  She watches the soap. “Do you have another condom?”

  I lift my brows. “You want to come on my cock?”

  “Maybe.”

  I grip the base of said cock and give it a hard yank. “Don’t tease it. I’m fully prepared to go blue-balled for you again if you tell me you want the vibrator. Or my mouth. Or fingers. It’s your birthday, princess.”

  I love the slow smile that spreads across her face. “That’s very gallant of you.” She jerks her head toward her bedroom. “Go get a condom.”

  “Don’t have to tell me twice,” I mutter, heading to the bedroom. I grab a condom from my wallet and quickly return.

  When I get back, her nipples are hard peaks, and her fingers are between her legs.

  “Oh, sugar.” This girl will be the death of me. I thought I worked through the crazy hormones of puberty, but I’m ready to jizz before we’re even started.

  But it’s her birthday, and then I’m gone, so I have to make it good.

  I pick up the bar of soap again and lather it up, then stroke down her neck, across her shoulder, around her breast.

  She trails one finger down my abs, and my cock punches out even harder. I stroke her other breast and down her belly. Then I drop to my knees and trail my hands down her thighs.

  I look up, through water droplets on my lids to watch her face when I scoop behind one knee to pull it over my shoulder.

  And then I give it to her—full bore. I suck and lick and nip. I taste her like I’m a starving man. She grips my shoulders, pulls my hair, wobbles on her standing leg.

  “I won’t let you fall,” I promise, wrapping one arm around her waist and palming her ass with the other.

  “I want you inside me,” she says.

  I grin, my knees cracking as I stand up. “I love a girl who knows what she wants.”