Page 10 of Fired Up (Alphas Forever 2)

“Good, Frank. What about your last name?”

“Harmon,” he says, after a second.

“Okay, Frank. I’m going to stay with you until help comes, okay?”

He nods slowly. “O…kay.”

His cut looks pretty bad. I take off my shirt and press it to the wound. He doesn’t even flinch at my touch. I keep him talking, keep him awake, until the paramedics arrive, at which point they take over. I wish I could stay and help, but they’ve got it covered. And I’ve got Layla to get back to.

I head back to the car. Layla has gotten out, and looks panicked. “Is everything okay?” she asks, rushing over to me. She wraps her arms around me, pressing her face into my chest.

“One driver was hurt. He’s going to be fine, I think, though.”

She nods, relieved. She looks up at me. “You really are a good man, aren’t you? You really do care about helping people.”

I laugh. “What gave it away?”

Layla looks at me for a long moment. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been hesitant to fully open myself up to you because…well…you just seem too good to be true. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? But…maybe you really are as great as you seem.”

“What are you saying, Layla?”

“I’m saying that I know I want to be with you now.”

I grin. I grab her and pull her toward me and kiss her. It feels different this time. There’s no longer that feeling of something keeping her from me. I’m hers, and she’s mine. Totally, completely mine.

That night, we barely sleep. We haven’t had sex since that night in the elevator, and it’s like we’re making up for all the fucking we haven’t been doing these last several weeks. I lick that sweet pussy of hers until she comes—twice—and then she wraps her mouth around my cock and takes me deep. Fuck, it feels good. But it feels even better when I get those beautiful curvy thighs of her spread open and enter her. I come inside of her three more times that night: first, while holding her ankles wide apart and gazing down at her gorgeous face; next, while fucking her hard and fast from behind; and then, after catching our breath, while making love to her slow and sensually, dragging out the intense pleasure for both of us for as long as I can. It’s after that last orgasm that I tell her I love her. I have to tell her. I can’t hold it in any longer.

“You do?” says Layla, tracing a finger over my chest.

I nod. “I really do.”

Layla’s eyes shine.

“Good,” she says. “Because I love you, too.”

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