Page 9 of Possessive Alpha

If anyone is listening, please save me from demanding alphas.

“If you don’t mind, I have laundry to do,” I say as calmly as I can.

His grip tightens a split second before he tugs.

We collide. Chest. Thighs. Arms. We’re flush together, my head angled back so I can meet his eye and his hand on my right hip searing through cotton to the skin beneath. “Liar.”

That strange thing happens again where it’s just us. No one else in the world but us.

I’ve started calling them perfect moments, and they keep on happening.

He must feel it too for his eyes to soften. “You feel like you belong right here, Martha Vincent. As if right here is where you’re always meant to be.”

Soft words kill my desire to want to fight. Because he’s right. It does feel good in his arms. Too good to want to peel myself away.

I’m not sure my expression changes. I certainly don’t mean for it to happen. But it must for Ty’s eyes to heat as, frustratingly slowly, his head lowers.

A branch snaps and I pull away.

His grip tightens on my hip as I focus on his chin. He’s looking into my face, but I refuse to lift my head to meet his gaze.

“Please let me go,” I say quietly.

He blows out a breath, warm air stirring my hair as he slowly releases me, one finger at a time. “This time.”

A terrifying thought.

Next time, I’m not sure I’ll be strong enough to stop him before he kisses me. I know because I wasn’t strong enough to stop him this time. If that branch hadn’t snapped…

The second he releases me, I whirl around, take a couple of steps, and suddenly there’s no ground beneath my feet.

Before I’ve had a chance to process what the hell just happened, a strong hand yanks me out of the waist-deep hole I fell into.

Ty sets me on my feet, his hands on my hips.

“Are you okay?” His voice is tight, his expression placid.

But I know the truth. He’s laughing at me.

Footsteps pound toward us. Probably people wanting to investigate the source of the bloodcurdling scream I let out before I disappeared into a hole in the ground.

“Fine,” I say calmly.

I’m not calm. Not in the least. How I’m faking it so well is something I might never work out.

His eyes sweep over me, taking in my thoroughly muddied appearance. I wasn’t in the ground long, but clearly, you don’t need to be to ruin your outfit.

“I’m used to digging holes in the ground.” His expression remains neutral. “Not pulling beautiful women from them.”

“Right.”

Inside, he must be dying from all that laughter he’s hiding from me.

“Why is there a hole in the ground?” I ask in the same calm voice as before.

“Jackson said at the meeting for us to be careful because the contractors were digging. There was an old lake around here, and they wanted to know how far to dig to avoid it.” His expression still hasn’t changed. “Remember?”

No, I didn’t remember to watch for holes because you had your arm around me and you were playing with my hair. How the hell is a girl supposed to think at a time like that?

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