The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male (7 page)

“I am all for that right about now,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. Oh, hello, delicious torment. She’d been about to suggest it herself but didn’t want to seem like an eager tramp.
Hi, can I rub my body all up against your hard one? I swear it’s just because I’m cold. The thought of your rippling abs and my eighteen months without sex has nothing to do with it in the slightest.

“Here,” he said, handing her the slicker. “Let’s move over to that corner. It’s the driest.”

His hand lightly brushed her shoulder and nudged her forward, and Beth Ann followed. She felt the boards creak as he shifted down to the ground, and then she heard him pat his leg. “Come on.”

Oh boy. Heart fluttering with anxiety and a mixture of things she didn’t want to define, she slid down to the floor next to him, and curled up, hugging her legs close. His warm arm was suddenly touching her legs and he pulled her body against his, and she tilted and leaned back against him.

“Don’t be shy,” he said in that same almost-mocking voice. “Shy means cold.”

She realized she’d sat down right between his legs. He’d spread them wide to accommodate her body, and her legs eased over one of his thighs, until her feet dangled off to the side and she curled halfway, sitting in his lap.

He reached around her and pulled the slicker over the two of them like a blanket. Then she felt his arms slide around her waist. “Relax,” he said. “Not gonna touch you. Platonic.”

No, she suspected he wouldn’t, but she was all too acutely
aware of where she was sitting, and what she was laying against. For example, right now her cheek lay against a metal chain that she was pretty sure were his dog tags. Imagining those on his naked chest was rather…delicious.

Not that she should be thinking about that sort of thing. Especially right now. His cock jutted like iron, and she’d definitely noticed how hard it was. “I’m feeling something decidedly unplatonic against my side,” she pointed out.

“Involuntary,” he said. “I’m alive and you’re female and almost naked.”

All good points, and he was definitely warm and hard under her. “I see. Well, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

He chuckled. “Didn’t realize that was what you wanted tonight. You want to feel special, you got to ask.”

Charming. “Platonic,” she repeated.

“Platonic,” he agreed. “Not dead.”

He was going to be in a world of hurt in the morning, Colt decided. Beth Ann—pretty, unattainable Beth Ann Williamson—had fallen asleep in his arms, wearing nothing but a scrap of panties, his T-shirt, and a rain slicker that covered them both. He was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. She’d turned a little after she’d fallen asleep and mashed her full breasts against his chest, and it had taken every ounce of his strength not to groan aloud. His dick was as hard as steel, and his knee throbbed, and he didn’t care.

She snuggled up against him and slept, oblivious to their cold, wet surroundings. And he kept his hands carefully on her
back, because he was afraid to put them anywhere else. Her thighs were too exposed, her front too tempting.

What the fuck was he doing? Why had he lied to her about the two of them being stranded? Had he wanted to teach her a lesson so badly that he’d felt like traipsing through the mud with her at his side all weekend? Was he that much of a masochist to enjoy a woman’s weeping and exhaustion? This was his own damn fault. He’d forced her to stay out here in the wild because he’d lied to her about being stranded.

Worse than that, she wasn’t crying or complaining about fatigue. She wasn’t being tortured by this. She was snuggling up against him. Even worse than
that
, he was attracted to her. Really, really attracted—could stroke himself off at the touch of her hand on his chest attracted.

Fuck. And she was nothing but bad news.

Wouldn’t the town just love that
, he thought with a wry twist of his mouth. Sweet, perfect Beth Ann, stolen away from handsome Allan Sunquist by one of the white-trash, no-good Waggoners.

Actually, he liked that thought very much, and his arms tightened around her, shifting her closer.

So this had started out as revenge, but it had changed at some point. Maybe when she’d laughed and apologized for being nasty to him. Maybe when she’d taken off her dress and shimmied into his shirt and even though he hadn’t been looking, he’d been picturing it.

Either way, he was setting himself up for a world of hurt and a weekend full of blue balls. There were a lot of things girls like Beth Ann liked in this world, but blue collar, ex-military guys
from trailer parks weren’t one of them. Beth Ann’s family had money. They mingled with Houston society. They held fund-raisers and held city offices and did stupid shit like that.

And even knowing all this, he wanted to tilt her face up from where it was buried against his chest, and slide his lips over her parted ones, and kiss the hell out of her. See if she’d respond to his kiss.

But he wasn’t that big of a dick to molest a girl while she was sleeping. And Beth Ann wouldn’t be interested in a guy like him. So he just lay his head back against the tree house wall and tried not to think about the curve of her hip resting against his cock, and how he could have her spun around and down on the floor, pushing her panties aside and sinking deep into her before she’d had time to fully awaken. Fuck her until that sleepy look in her eyes turned to desire.

Okay, so he was thinking about it a little.

Beth Ann slowly woke up, her front toasty and delicious, her feet incredibly cold. She shifted, wondering why her bottom felt so stiff. She was pressed up against something deliciously warm and hard, and her first thought was Allan. Except Allan didn’t like to cuddle in bed with her, and there was definitely a large, warm hand cupping her ass. To her horror, she was drooling on a bare chest. Oh God. She suddenly knew whose chest that was, and she suspected he wouldn’t like being drooled on. She sat up, surreptitiously wiping at her mouth, and then straightened the dog tags that had gotten stuck to her cheek, returning them to their usual spot on his chest.

“Mornin’,” Colt said in a raspy drawl.

“Um, hi,” she said, and ran a hand over her hair. It had dried sometime in the night into unruly waves. Lovely. She probably looked like a hot mess. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well enough considering the splinter up my ass,” he said. “You?”

“Like a baby,” she said. She laughed but it was kind of the truth. She’d slept well in his arms, given the circumstances. Almost too well. Of course, she’d never admit that to Colt. He didn’t even like her.

“It’s still raining,” he pointed out.

“Still?” she said with dismay. “That means the river’s still going to be too high to cross, then?”

“’Fraid so,” he said, except she could have sworn he’d sounded pleased about it.

“You’re having fun with all this, aren’t you?”

“’Fraid so,” he repeated with a grin. “This sort of thing’s a challenge, but it’s nice to push yourself against the elements, see who comes out on top.”

“Right now it’s the elements one, Beth Ann zero,” she pointed out.

He simply smiled, one corner of his mouth tugging up. Through the day’s growth of stubble, she saw a dimple. Heaven help her.

She stood up and stretched, then tugged the shirt down over her panties, remembering that her thong didn’t cover much. He’d stood and began to put on his pants again, and she didn’t watch, but she did notice what he was wearing. Tighty whities. She could see that. He was all business to the core.

Beth Ann reached out and grasped the hem of her dress and grimaced. “Still wet.” Wet and cold to boot. The cloak was like one big soggy towel. She sighed and turned back to him. “So what’s the plan?”

He put his hands on his hips and she noticed the marines symbol tattooed over one hard, flat pectoral. His stomach was flat and lean and his shoulders were hard with muscle. Had she really rested up against that all night? Mercy. She felt weak in the knees.

“You lead. I’m just here to make sure you don’t get into trouble.” His lean, predatory gaze stroked over her.

She was staring at him. She flushed and dropped her gaze, pretending to look at a fleck of mud on her big toe. “Well, seeing as how I have no clue of what I’m doing, I think it’s your call.”

“There’s a supply shack the survival business keeps stocked in case of school emergency not too far from here,” he admitted. “We could skirt the river and head toward it. Might not be drier than here, but there’s some emergency supplies. And enough open area to build a fire.”

“That sounds like as good a plan as any,” Beth Ann said. Fire sounded awesome.

She leaned over and picked up her bag, and fished out one totally destroyed Louboutin. “I’m not going to be able to walk far in these.” She stared at it, and then peered over at him. “I don’t suppose you could snap the heels off?”

“Snap the heels?”

“Like in that movie.” Beth Ann didn’t remember which one. “So I can walk better.” She held the shoe out to him.

He took it in hand and gave her an odd look. “Might not be a bad idea. Hope they aren’t expensive.”

“Twelve hundred dollars,” she admitted, just as he snapped the first heel off and handed it to her.

He looked a little sick at the thought. “Twelve hundred?”

“Yup,” she said cheerfully, and handed him the other shoe to destroy. “If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t my money.”

“Allan?” he guessed, and snapped the other heel off and handed it back to her.

“He always thought I had a weakness for shoes,” she admitted.

“And do you?” His keen gaze rested on her legs as she slid the shoes on. They were tilted at an odd angle to support the heel that was now missing, but she wouldn’t sink in the mud anymore. That was a plus.

“Not really,” Beth Ann said. “All I ever asked from him was faithfulness. Instead, I got expensive shoes, Coach handbags, and Tiffany jewelry.”

“I don’t know what any of that is,” Colt drawled. “Expensive?”

She nodded. “Useless, too.”

That dimple reappeared, and she felt like she’d suddenly said the right thing. “Keep the heels. Maybe you can get part of your money back.”

She snorted, and then touched the hem of her damp dress. “I’ll change back into this if you don’t mind turning around.”

He turned away from her, and she slipped his shirt off and her dress back on. She shivered as the damp, cold fabric slithered down her body, and then held his shirt out to him reluctantly. “Here you go.”

He took it and turned, then frowned at her. “Cold already?”

“I didn’t buy this because it was incredibly warm,” she admitted.

He handed the shirt back to her. “Put this on over your dress.”

“I—but you—”

He ran a hand over his own chest and her gaze was drawn there like a beacon. “I can stand a little cold.”

She needed to quit staring at his far too nice pectorals. “Okay,” she said weakly, and tugged the shirt back over her head. It helped, a lot. “Thank you.”

He squinted at the sky, then at her. “It’s letting up. We can grab some of those apples to eat and head out for the cabin before it starts to rain again. You sure you want to do this?”

“I’m good,” she affirmed. “A little hike won’t kill me. And your knee?”

Colt gave her a hard look. “If I avoided hiking because my knee hurt me, I wouldn’t be much use as a survival instructor, would I?”

Ouch. She’d insulted him with her question. “Sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t trying to question your ability.”

For some reason, his mouth quirked at that. “Oh, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of your needs.”

A hot flush swept over her face at that. Oh mercy, he didn’t mean that how she’d taken it. Did he? Because now she was thinking naughty things.

He handed her a few apples, oblivious to her blushing.

She took them and placed them in her plastic bag, along with another bottle of alcohol. Why not. She’d probably need a stiff drink by tonight. Her hand hesitated over the now-soggy box of
condoms. She could toss them. Or she…could keep them. Beth Ann flushed even harder, thinking of his hand casually grazing over his chest, and how she’d wanted that to be her own hand.

I’m perfectly capable of taking care of your needs.

Wishful thinking
, she told herself, but she left the box in. She was way too cowardly to make a move anyhow, and he likely saw her as an annoying burden for the weekend.

“Anyone looking for you?”

His sharp voice startled her out of her reverie and she clasped the bag tightly shut, cheeks flaming. “What?”

He gave her another one of those intense, narrow-eyed gazes that seemed to see right through her. “You didn’t go home last night. Anyone going to be looking for you?”

“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “My clients will be annoyed when they get to the salon and I’m not there, but I’ll reschedule them and give a discount, and we should be okay.”

“I meant family. Boyfriend?”

There went that flush again. “My parents will think I flounced back to the salon to hide out for the weekend. When I get mad at them, I do that. Living at home is too claustrophobic.” She thought for a minute, and then grinned. “I’ve been doing a lot of weekend flouncing lately.”

He gave her a slow, wicked smile in return that made the pit of her belly flutter with excitement. “Parents?”

“What?”

“You said you hide from your parents. Aren’t you a little old for that?”

“I moved back in with them after I left Allan,” she admitted. “Everyone thought it would be pretty temporary…except me.”
She smiled over at him. “Eleven months later, here I am. Still living at home.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of in that,” he said, and she could have sworn that he was pleased.

“You?” she asked casually. “Anyone waiting at home for you?”

“Just Grant,” he said with a drawl. “Probably wanting to go over class schedules again. So no.”

“Ah,” she said. So he was a total bachelor? It seemed weird and awkward to ask him if he had a girlfriend, but she suddenly really wanted to know.

“So no boyfriend?” His lazy drawl almost sounded interested, and her pulse fluttered.