by April Hunt
“I wasn’t expecting to get ravished today, so my clothes aren’t exactly designed for easy removal,” Elle admitted.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t had the pleasure of putting my mouth on you for almost two days. I have a lot of incentive and, if all else fails, a pocket-knife to cut my way through.” He groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder. “But goddamn it, there is something I don’t have.”
“What’s that?”
“Condoms.”
Elle got his meaning and instantly felt a wave of disappointment. “I’ve never done anything without one.”
Trey let out a sigh. “I understand. Completely.”
“But…” Biting her lip, she gave him a nervous look. “I know I’m clean. And as far as pregnancies go, I’m basically a sure thing—for it not to happen, I mean.”
He raised a brow at her choice of wording, but didn’t comment. “What are you saying, sweetness?”
“That I’m okay with going without…if you are.”
He waited a beat before replying. “I’m clean and I’ve never gone without either. I’d never put you at risk. But this can only happen if you’re completely on board with it. If you have any reservations at all…”
“There’s no reservations here,” Elle whispered. She slid her hands beneath his shirt and slowly peeled it up and off his sweat-dampened body.
“None?” Trey asked, doing the same to her exercise tank.
Elle shook her head, getting breathless as he slowly lowered his mouth to her breast. “Not a single one.”
At least not about the condom use.
Chapter Twelve
Trey’s sexual stamina had no limits, and when it came to him, neither did Elle’s. In the week and a half since their locker room interlude, she’d found herself a wanton, carefree woman she didn’t recognize—and the feeling was almost as addictive as the man who elicited it.
In the hopes that they’d stick with repetition, she’d started reciting her four rules every morning in the bathroom mirror. Some days she said them twice. And on those days, she made sure Trey got a refresher too.
But she hadn’t needed to do that today because it had been almost eight hours since she’d laid eyes on him—or on anyone else, for that matter.
Everyone was topside. Stone and Chase were following a lead regarding the mysterious Alley Man, which took them out of town, and Rafe surprised Penny with a night away from the compound. Everyone else—Trey included—was upstairs putting in their appearances at the bar.
Eight hours of no Trey, no people, and way too much junk food had Elle standing in front of the elevator doors when it hummed to life. This far into solitary, she didn’t care if it was a vacuum salesman coming to visit.
The doors opened, revealing a lone Charlie.
“I guess I’m not the one you were hoping to see sneaking out of work early.” Charlie chuckled as she stepped into the room. “Your boy’s still working hard at not doing much, but it’s soon time to shut things down.”
“It’s almost closing time?” Elle heard the hope in her own voice and cringed. Being stuck in a hole in a mountain was starting to get to her.
“About another hour.” Charlie grabbed a baseball hat someone had left on the table and tossed it into her hands. “Put this on, love.”
“Why?” she asked while she pulled her ponytail through the back and settled it on her head.
“Because even though I doubt anyone upstairs would know the difference between a senator’s daughter and a pole dancer, I don’t want to tempt fate. You’ve been cooped up in the Hole long enough. It’s time we got you some fresh air. Well…air. I don’t think it could be considered fresh. We get a lot of hunters and there’s some bloody nonsense about soap scents scaring the animals away.”
“Are you serious?” At Charlie’s raised brow, Elle grinned. “Not about the soap. You don’t think going upstairs would be a problem?”
Charlie threw her arm over Elle’s shoulder and led the way into the elevator. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I thought it would be an issue. The guys have squirreled you away down here out of an abundance of caution, but it’s not like Frederick is a beacon for mercenaries searching for blonde nurses. But just so you know, the only one who knows about our side jobs is Shiner. I call him Alpha’s Grease Technician, but he calls himself a cook. He kind of came with the place.”
Elle nodded. “Got it. Keep my mouth closed.”
The elevator came to a stop and, a few seconds later, a beep indicated the coast was clear for them to step into the storage room. The smell of sizzling grease hit Elle’s nose before they’d even fully walked into the kitchen.
“You’re gonna drop them there patties, kid!” Armed with a shock of white hair and a loud bark, an older man made the kid in question jump inches into the air. “No one’s gonna pay for burnt patties! You best work faster and get the shake out of your hands.”
Charlie planted a loud kiss on the older man’s whiskered face. “Who are you trying to fool, Shiner? These Yanks will eat anything as long as they don’t have to run across the field and catch it themselves.”
Shiner barely managed to smother a smirk. “Yeah, but the kid don’t need to know that.”
Charlie chuckled. “Shiner, this is…Laura. Laura, this is the one and only Shiner.”
Shiner raised his white, bushy eyebrows, and gave her a flirty wink. “Laura, huh? Yeah, you look like a Laura. I used to know a woman named Laura…and oh, boy.”
“Of course you did.” Charlie gave his weathered cheek an affectionate pat.
A loud plop and softly muttered curse turned everyone’s attention toward the greasy mess on the floor—and the kid standing in front of it. Shiner looked up at him with a growl.
Charlie steered Elle toward the swinging doors. “It’s best we let them have their moment alone. Shiner’s usually a big ol’ teddy bear, but he can be a bloody grizzly when he’s in a snit, and he’s been trying to teach Ryan how to flip a decent burger for close to a month.”
Elle stepped into the main bar and did a double take. Unlike the time she’d been in the room before, bodies filled every table and corner. Music blared from the speakers. Pool balls cracked together. People laughed and danced and drank. There didn’t seem to be a soul in the place that wasn’t having a good time.
“What do you want?” Charlie ducked beneath the bar’s counter, where Vince was filling two huge mugs from the tap.
“Just a water.”
Charlie nodded and pushed her a bottle before jumping into action alongside Vince. The tatted operative said something in her ear that had Charlie squirting him with the water nozzle in her hand. The spray hit him in the face and dripped down to his shirt. Elle couldn’t help but grin at the show the two put on without even realizing it.
On the other side of the bar, Logan stood talking with one group of patrons before laughing and moving on to the next. It was all a little surreal. Logan schmoozing. Vince and Charlie running tabs. No one knew that the people who poured their drinks and replenished the peanut bowls were badass heroes of the selfless kind.
And then there was Trey.
He’d yet to see her, but her attention drifted to him like he had a homing beacon pinned to his clothes. Across the room, he leaned casually against the wall, his arms folded across his chest in a drool-worthy display that emphasized the contrast between his black T and sleeve of tattoos—and the redhead glued to his side Siamese-twin style.
The woman pushed her impressive cleavage against his arm and danced two red tipped fingernails up and down the center of his chest as she whispered something in his ear. Trey listened intently and then tossed his head back and laughed.
It was a sad testament to her love life that Elle had never cared about anyone enough to invoke jealousy—not even James. But there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it was responsible for her sudden desire to claw out the redhead’s eyes—especially when she lifted herself to her toes and planted a solid kiss on Trey’s che
ek.
Elle had no right to get upset. It was her decree of no expectations that gave him free rein to do as he pleased, and now she had to deal with the consequences. But that didn’t mean she had to stand by and watch.
Elle approached two men who looked to be wrapping up a game of pool. “Does someone have dibs on the next game or is the table free?”
From the corner of her eye, Elle caught an encouraging wink from Charlie.
The man in the blue plaid work shirt and worn jeans flashed her a smile and offered her a cue stick. “It’s all yours, sweetheart. This one looks like a good fit for your little self. Why don’t you try it on for size and go ahead and break apart those balls.”
She accepted the cue. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” His friend nudged him as she leaned over to take her first shot.
She bit her bottom lip in concentration and let the cue fly. Balls flew apart, at least four dropping into various pockets. Elle barely refrained from jumping up and down. She’d played a time or two before, but it had been a while. She called stripes and systematically started clearing the table.
“Day-um, sweetheart,” the plaid-wearing stranger drawled. “You sure know how to work that stick, don’t you?”
“Jealous?” Elle returned.
His friend chuckled. Elle barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the juvenile joke. In her periphery, she caught a glimpse of Trey, no longer looking casual and relaxed. He glared her way—and his little friend didn’t look amused.
Elle couldn’t help but put a little extra sway in her step as she walked to the other end of the table. One ball left to go and about a million and one ways for the shot to go wrong.
“You sink that ball, hon, and I’ll pay for your drinks all damn night.” Plaid Man chuckled, obviously not worrying about the thickness of his wallet.
“I’ll start with a martini.” Elle bent down to the table, examining the lay of the felt between the cue and the eight ball, when she felt a wall of warmth sidle up on her left.
“Keep ogling and I’m going to let Charlie serve your eyeballs in that fucking martini,” a familiar voice snarled.
“Hey, Trey,” Plaid Man confirmed what Elle had already guessed. “It’s been all in good fun, I swear.”
“Yeah, well. Get gone before I have fun with your face.”
Plaid Man and his friend scampered away without so much as a backward glance.
Whatever. Trey could growl and snap all he wanted, but he wasn’t ruining her good time. She threw her concentration back to the table when his spicy masculine smell drifted around her, at the same time as did a set of corded arms.
“Move now or risk getting a cue stick drilled into your gut.” She gave herself a mental pat on the pack for sounding so normal.
“I’ll take my chances.” Trey’s low voice, brushing against her ear, sent a warm tingle straight between her legs. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I should think that was pretty obvious.”
“You know what I mean, sweetness.”
Elle looked across the room to where he’d been chatting up his little friend and found the redhead sending her a death-glare. Elle gave a little wave and turned toward Trey before she could see the other woman’s reaction.
“Charlie said it wouldn’t be a problem if I came up, and so I did,” Elle explained easily. “Contrary to popular belief and my current circumstances, I do still have some control over my life.”
Trey’s silence hung heavy in the air before he murmured, “Sweetness, you have control over a hell of a lot more than you even know. If you’ve been up here for a while, why didn’t you come over and say hello?”
“I didn’t want to bother you when you were…busy.”
Well, crap. That sounded catty, even to her own ears.
Trey’s lips twitched. “I was playing nice with some of the locals. It’s part of the job.”
“Your job must have a lot of perks…two of them, to be exact.”
Elle bit the inside of her cheek as Trey’s smirk split into a shit-eating grin. God help her, she didn’t have alcohol to blame this time for her loose lips. But it was too late to back down now, and she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to, either.
“Careful, sweetheart, or you’re going to have me believing that you’re jealous.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Please. Why would I be jealous?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because you’re the one who reminds me of our agreement every chance you get.”
“Because it’s something that can be forgotten pretty quick if we’re not careful.” She did her best to hold on to her mad, but it was hard to do with his body still so freaking close. “And I’m not jealous,” she lied. “I just don’t understand why women feel as though they have to flaunt the lady bits in order to get attention.”
“Because those women don’t think they have a whole lot else going for them, so they try to amp up the goods themselves. You don’t have that problem.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Are you saying I don’t have the goods to amp up?”
Trey let his hands drift slowly from the table to her waist and anchored her hips to his. “No. I’m saying that you don’t need to paint yourself up like a clown and wear a shirt three sizes too small to grab someone’s attention. You do that by being yourself.”
Words escaped her. That was sweet…much sweeter than her catty self deserved.
“Last call! Start settling up,” Charlie shouted. A chorus of complaints echoed through the room. “Hey, Laura! Get your cute little arse over here.”
Elle cleared her throat. “Uh…that would be me. I’m Laura.”
“Then I guess you better go.” Trey took a small step back, but not one large enough that she didn’t brush against his body when she slipped away.
Elle’s knees wobbled as she returned to the bar and to Charlie’s knowing smirk. “You looked like you needed a save.”
“From who? Myself or Trey?”
“Both.”
Chapter Thirteen
Elle thunked her head on the countertop and groaned. “What the hell is the matter with me, Charlie? It’s like my brain isn’t attached to my mouth, and my hormones themselves have gone ape-shit crazy.”
Charlie gave her hand a sympathetic pat. “It’s the Alpha Syndrome, love. I told you, these men pack quite the wallop.”
When Elle lifted her head and brought it down for a second time, a soft pillow cushioned her thunk.
Charlie gestured to the rag under her forehead. “Use that to work your sexual frustrations out on these mug rings. My arms have never been as fit as they’ve been since this place opened.”
Why not? She didn’t have anything else to do, and if it took away even the smallest bit of stress, then it was well worth it. Elle started attacking the mug rings down the length of the bar, but instead of clearing her head, the harder she wiped at the stains, the more confused she got.
“Some women prefer to eat their way through a box of chocolates because of man problems, but I’m in the same category as you, hon. Work through it. May as well get something accomplished while you’re trying not to wring their necks,” a friendly female voice empathized.
Elle glanced up. Somewhere in her early- to mid-sixties and dressed in pressed linen pants and a button-up top, the older woman didn’t exactly mesh with the other clientele at Alpha. But she sat on the bar stool as if she’d been coming there for years.
Elle returned her friendly smile. “It’s a little pathetic to admit this, but I’m not used to having these kinds of man problems. Probably because I’ve never met this particular kind of man before.”
“And is that a good thing? That he’s different?” the older woman asked.
There was something both disarming and welcoming in the way her green eyes glittered in the bar’s dim lighting. She studied Elle carefully, almost as if reading beyond the words she said aloud. Something told her that t
his woman would recognize a lie the moment it left her lips, so Elle didn’t bother trying to fabricate one.
“Yes and no,” she said honestly. “Yes, because I’ve been unfortunate enough to have been around some real jerks. No, because I don’t know what the hell to do with him. He’s flipped me upside down and inside out so many times I don’t know which way is up.”
“If you ever find out what that something is, you let me know, because his father—God rest his soul—had the same knock-you-for-a-loop effect on me.”
It took Trey dropping his arm around the older woman’s shoulder for Elle to truly decipher her meaning.
With his eyes lit up with affection, Trey planted a kiss on the woman’s cheek. “Ma. What are you doing out this late at night?”
Oh. My. God. His mom.
“Seems to be the only way I get to lay eyes on my one and only son these days.” Trey’s mom, with the same deep green eyes as her son, flashed Elle a conspiratorial smirk. “But now I can understand why you’ve been working yourself so ragged lately.”
Elle wanted to bury her head in the nearest hole—strike that. A crater would be better. On another planet.
Trey’s mom chuckled. Reaching over, she squeezed Elle’s hand, obviously reading her embarrassment. “We didn’t get to the pleasantries yet, honey. I’m gathering from Charlotte’s vibrant bellow that your name’s Laura. I’m Sophie Hanson, this one’s mother…though his lack of visits suggest I’m nothing but a mere stranger—or a pit stop to occasional bathroom breaks.”
“Actually, most people call me Elle.” Keeping a low profile or not, there was no way in hell she was going to lie to Trey’s mother.
Sophie didn’t bat an eye. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Elle.”
“It’s been busy, Ma,” Trey half-heartedly defended himself. “But I was going to come over soon.”
“You mean like tomorrow? At the Sled-tacular?”