Red Hot Alphas: 11 Novels of Sexy, Bad Boy, Alpha Males (Red Hot Boxed Sets Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  “I know. It's frustrating, but what are you going to do?” She sighs.

  “Stay forever single. Guys are such selfish dumbasses. They never realize what they've got until it's gone.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “You do me first today,” Parker tells me as he hops up onto the massage table.

  The point at which we could have done each other is gone. Now there's just this—awkward silence and the tension of wanting the last hour of my shift to pass as quickly as possible.

  To my surprise, he doesn't launch into a myriad of inappropriate questions. He's as silent as a church mouse, and I revel in my fifteen minutes of listening to classical music and the sound of his breathing. He seems more relaxed today, though I'm not sure why. Maybe because it's Friday, and we both have a weekend to get over everything that's happened. While he's off doing whatever rich people do in their spare time, I'll be applying to as many jobs as I can in the hopes that I can get away from him completely.

  “Why didn't you finish college?” he asks me lazily when it's time for us to switch places. There's no hint that he's actually interested in the answer. I can only assume this is an attempt at having a normal conversation with me, which is a most welcome change.

  “There was some drama in San Francisco.” I crawl onto the table and roll over onto my stomach, grateful that I don't have to look at him.

  “What kind of drama?” I watch his bare feet as he walks across the carpet to the table with the massage cream to dip his fingers into it.

  “Drama that I wasn't emotionally prepared to handle at the time.” It's another uncomfortable question, but at least we're not talking about sex for once.

  “San Francisco is far away. Are you originally from there?” He returns, leaning over me and pressing his fingertips into my back. It feels so relaxing, I can't help but moan a little.

  “No. My aunt lives there. She offered to house me while I went to school, and I needed a change of scenery, so I took her up on it. I thought it was going to be a big adventure.” The words sound sarcastic and ripe with disappointment. It was a big adventure, the kind I could have done without. I met both Anders and Asher in San Francisco. Thanks to the two of them, I now hate the city. It's a place full of horrible men and broken dreams.

  “It's an interesting city,” Parker says thoughtfully.

  “It is. I usually go there every summer, though I don't think I'll be going back for a while.” I pause for a moment, the memories surging over me like a wave of nausea. “I don't want to talk about San Francisco anymore though. Tell me about your life. How were you able to juggle college and building a business? That part about your life fascinates me. I don't even see how it's possible, to be honest.” It's hard to imagine going to school full-time and running a billion-dollar company.

  “My life was all about work and getting ahead back then.” I can hear the pride in his voice as he begins telling me the story. “Growing up in poverty is a pretty good motivator. Do you know how hard it is being the only white boy living in the projects? I used to get my ass beat daily.” He puts emphasis on the word daily. I can't picture him losing fights. He's so muscular and strong, like he's built to take on the world. That would explain the crook in his nose though. “Life growing up was a nightmare. There was never enough food. Our electricity and water were always being shut off because my parents couldn't pay the bills. My father was almost never around, and my mother was a hopeless alcoholic. I knew I'd never get away from that life if I didn't work hard.”

  While I find his story interesting, I'm starting to feel drowsy. It's strangely soothing to listen to him talk while he rubs my back. He's so good at giving massages, I half-wonder why he never pursued that as a career. Then again, I suppose there's not as much money in it as there is in running a company like Enkidu Industries.

  “I knew I didn't want to work for someone else. You don't get ahead in life that way. At least, most people don't. And I also knew I didn't want to wait until I graduated college before I started working on building my company.”

  I'm struggling to listen to him now. My eyelids are so heavy, and his words are growing more distant by the second. Before I know it, they're gone, and I'm drifting off into a deep sleep.

  ***

  I open my eyes to the sight of dark-blue carpet. It takes me a moment to realize I'm still in the massage room. The crick in my neck makes it obvious that I've been asleep for a while.

  When I lift my head, I'm not sure what I expected to see, but it certainly wasn't Parker Bernier sitting in a chair staring directly at me. His full lips draw into a soft smile as he looks at me. If I wasn't so dazed, I might blush. Was he actually watching me sleep?

  “I must have dozed off.” It's supposed to sound apologetic, but my voice comes out more tired than anything else.

  “You've been asleep for a while.” He uncrosses his legs, and his erection springs into view. I can't help but wonder if the guy is fueled by Viagra. Then the mischievous possibility that he was masturbating to my naked body crosses through my mind. As if on cue, he rubs his hand down his veiny length, giving it a few quick strokes. Oh God, I can't watch this.

  I rest my head back into the cradle of the massage chair. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Almost two hours.”

  The answer shocks me. Seriously? I've been asleep for two hours, and he's just been sitting there watching me.

  “Why didn't you wake me?” I pull myself into a sitting position, grabbing the sheet that's always on top of the massage table and covering myself with it, though I don't know why. This is the fifth day in a row he's seen my nude body. All of it. There's nothing worth hiding from him now.

  “I like to watch beautiful girls sleep,” he purrs, still absentmindedly playing with his dick.

  “But we were both supposed to be off work”—I cast a glance up at the large round clock that adorns the wall in the small room—“almost two hours ago. You should have woken me up.”

  “Did you have plans tonight?” Perhaps he should have thought about that before he let me sleep like I owned the place.

  I don't have plans. Yolanda is working a late shift at the daycare, so the only thing on my agenda is watching movies in my pajamas and eating cheap ramen noodles.

  “Nothing important. Do you?” I rub the sleep from my eyes, thinking about what a mess I must look like. The way my face stuck to the head cradle of the massage table is a pretty good indication that I have a red ring circling my features.

  “Then I made the right call in letting you sleep,” he deflects, leaning back in the chair, his eyes on me.

  “I'm really sorry about this.” Not that it's my fault. He could have easily woken me up if he wanted to.

  “Don't worry about it.” He looks away from me for a moment, thinking. “I know you just started working here, but I throw a company Christmas party every year. Well, I wouldn't say it's exactly a company Christmas party, but a lot of people from work attend. It's a fairly intimate affair, with only a hundred guests or so.” That doesn't sound intimate at all to me. Intimate to me is a dozen people. I can't help but wonder what he considers to be an actual party. “If you're interested, I'd like for you to attend.”

  “All right.” In all honesty, I don't want to be around him outside of work. Being around him here is intense enough. I have no interest in his personal affairs.

  “Would you like me to finish your massage?”

  The question catches me off guard. Is he serious? He's already sat in the room with me for nearly two hours while I slept, and now he wants to rub on me some more?

  “You didn't finish it earlier?” Last thing I remember, he was massaging my back when I passed out.

  “No. I stopped when I realized you were asleep. You snore, you know?”

  My cheeks flush in embarrassment. I did know that. But I didn't want him to know it. He should have never had an opportunity to find out. “You should have woken me up,” I grumble.

  “It was ad
orable. Lie back down, and I'll finish giving you a massage. It's Friday, and you've worked hard this week. You deserve a reward.” He stands up and walks to the table to lather his hands with massage cream before returning to my side. Reluctantly, I lie down again, though it doesn't feel anywhere near as comfortable as before thanks to the aching in my neck.

  When his fingers knead into my shoulders, I groan in approval. This is the weirdest thing ever. He's being so nice to me. I don't understand what's going on, but I'm worried about what it means. I can't allow myself to start thinking about him as anything other than my boss.

  “How are you not married?” I tease. I'm pretty sure I know the answer. He's handsome and rich and skilled with his body, not to mention he gives great massages. Any woman would want him, but that's just the problem. Every woman wants him. He knows that, and he takes advantage of it, just like every other rich guy who has it all.

  “I'd say I've never met the right woman, but that's not exactly true.” The admission sends a twinge of jealousy through me. He did tell me he's been in love before, but he never explained it. Even though it bothers me to think of him with other women, I am a bit curious about what kind of woman was amazing enough to steal his heart.

  “What was she like?” I try not to sound too interested. These are the types of questions he typically asks me, and I doubt the answers have ever meant anything to him.

  He takes a deep breath. “She was with another man.”

  That's not what I asked, but I decide to take it anyway. Whatever information he's willing to share is welcome. It's nice talking to him like this without sex being the focus of our conversation. I like that he's finally starting to open up to me. At the beginning of the week, he was so guarded. Maybe he's starting to trust me more. “Did you know she was with him?”

  “Yes.”

  I can't say that makes me feel any better about him. I've always hated home-wreckers. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. He's the type of guy who goes after what he wants, even if it's already owned by someone else. “So what happened?” The answer matters a lot less to me now that I know more about his character. Even if he wasn't my boss, he would still be a guy I'd want to stay away from.

  “It's a long story.” The way he says it sounds labored, but he continues anyway. “I met her at the grocery store, of all places. She was having a hard time reaching something on the top shelf. I offered to get it for her.” He smiles fondly as he recalls the memory. I can picture the story as clear as day. I imagine she was some gorgeous woman whom he couldn't resist. “I helped her out and went along with my business. Later, when I finished getting groceries, I ended up in the checkout line behind her. It was purely coincidence. She was a few dollars short paying for her stuff, so I offered to take care of it. She was very gracious and told me she wished she could repay me. I told her she could repay me by going out with me for coffee.

  “I didn't think much of it at the time, but there was a big bruise on her arm. She went out with me for coffee, and we got to talking. That's when I found out about her boyfriend. She told me that he was on unemployment, and that they were really struggling to make ends meet. Even though I knew it was none of my business, I tried to help by offering her a job.

  “She went home and talked to her boyfriend about it, but he said he didn't want her working, which was completely ludicrous considering that he was unemployed and they were struggling to survive. That's when I realized he had control issues. I didn't want to get into their business, but I still wanted to help, so I offered him a job instead. He accepted, so I put him in one of my distribution centers.

  “To make a long story short, I got more in their business than I should have. I'd go to check on her when I knew he was working, and things blossomed into more than they should have. She's so sweet and kind, and he's a complete asshole.

  “I started to notice that every time I'd come over, she'd have different bruises. She always explained them away until one day I saw she had a black eye. She couldn't explain that away. I convinced her to tell me what was really going on between them. I told her I'd keep her safe.” Parker's voice takes a sullen turn. “She told me he beat her when he got angry, which was frequently. I begged her to leave him, but she was too afraid. She said he had threatened to kill her if she tried to leave. I wanted to call the police, to steal her away from him, but there's only so much you can do when the other person isn't willing to cooperate.

  “Eventually, I just became her secret lover. She always seemed happy when she was with me, and I so desperately wanted her to leave him. It was the first time in my life I actually wanted to marry someone. But she wouldn't leave him.”

  I wait patiently for Parker to continue, but he doesn't. He moves on to my legs, silently brooding. “Then what happened?”

  Parker sighs deeply. “One day, her boyfriend came home from work early. He caught us together. It was ugly. I begged her to come home with me. She wouldn't do it. She ended up in the hospital that night.” His tone is infused with regret so deep that I can feel it hanging in the air.

  I can't even imagine what that would have been like for the girl. To be so afraid that you won't leave a man who you know is dangerous. Then again, I've never really understood the victim mentality. If a man ever laid a hand on me, I wouldn't hesitate to call the police. “What happened after that?”

  “He quit. They moved. She stopped talking to me.”

  “Love is shitty,” I comment bluntly. It is. People are stupid, and most of them are only out to hurt each other.

  “Turn over.” Parker moves away from me when he finishes massaging both of my legs. “And tell me why you think love is so shitty.”

  I roll around, surprised that he's going to give me a complete full-body massage. It's a very welcomed gesture. “I had something similar happen to me. Except I didn't know about the other person.”

  “Ah, the classic cheater.” He returns to the container of massage cream to lather up again before starting on my right arm.

  “I'd like to think that I'll heal from it someday.” I stare up at the ceiling, wondering whether I ever will heal. Asher struck at the very core of my heart.

  “Maybe we can help each other heal.” It's a peculiar thing to say, and I have no idea in what context I'm supposed to take it in.

  “Two broken people can't heal each other. Two wrongs don't make a right.” I'm doing my best not to look at him. After all of this emotional sharing, I'm starting to feel something I shouldn't.

  “I don't think you're broken. You're too irresistibly beautiful to be broken.” A charming smile crosses Parker's lips, though his eyes stay focused on my arm.

  “If I was so irresistible, you wouldn't have left the other day.” I chastise myself for sounding so bitter. Why am I bringing this up again? That ship sailed. I can't let him know I still want him.

  I do still want him though, more now than ever. There's an irrational hope that what he said was true, that maybe we can heal each other by being together. More than that, my body is swimming with desire for him all over again. He's let me peek into a vulnerable part of his soul, and I like what I see. There's a kindness there, a strong sense of humanity, and the hope that he might not be as bad a guy as I had originally thought.

  “You know about my policy.” His words are firm, driving a stake of rejection through my chest.

  “I thought you didn't care about your policy when it came to me.” Why am I pressing this? I want to stop, but my body and my heart won't let me. It's like I've switched into aggressor mode all over again. If he was on the table instead of me, I'd probably pounce on him.

  “I don't care about my policy.” He shakes his head.

  “Then what's stopping you?”

  When his eyes meet mine, it feels like the intensity of his gaze might burn a hole into me. I know that whatever comes out of his mouth next will be raw and serious. “I'm afraid that if I have you, I'll become addicted to you.”

  A blush fans across my cheeks as m
y heart skips a beat. Does he seriously mean that? He'll become addicted to me. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I tease, showing my skepticism.

  “No.” He drags his tongue across his bottom lip, wetting it, and I follow the movement, wishing I could kiss him. “The other girls aren't like you. I don't want them like I want you.”

  My face is on fire from his words. I'm sure he's said them to a million other women before me. The thought that he wants me more than anyone else is absolutely preposterous. “The other girls are lucky they don't work for you then.”

  He stops massaging my arm, letting his hands slide down to take mine in his. The look on his face is earnest. “I don't care that you work for me anymore.”

  “I do.” My body tenses. I know I have to stop this before it goes too far, but it's so difficult. “If we have sex, it's going to make working for you awkward.”

  “No, it won't. I'll probably just want fewer massages.” He smirks with silent promise. I can imagine me spending the last hour of my workday on my back in this room with him between my legs. That doesn't sound bad at all except for the fact that he'd still be paying me, so I'd pretty much become a prostitute.

  “I don't want you to pay me for sex.” I frown at the thought.

  “Who said anything about paying you for sex?” He quirks an eyebrow. “I've never had to pay for sex, Kira, and I never will.”

  I sit up and wrap my arms around myself protectively. There's so much sexual tension coursing through my body right now that there's no way he could rub it all out with his strong hands. Only his dick can satiate me now. That or me getting out of this room and far away from him. My head feels so clouded, my body so wanton with the possibility of having him. “I can't do this, Parker. I want it to be just sex, but it wouldn't be. The fact that we see each other every day, it changes the dynamic of things.”

  “It doesn't have to be just sex.” He leans against the table facing me.

  My heart jumps. I'm so confused. I want to ask him what he means, but I don't want to sound stupid or desperate. The thought of getting involved with him…