Page 12 of Perfect Alpha

Something makes Cade turn his head and, instead of embarrassment, there’s cockiness in his raised eyebrow as though he caught me intentionally spying on him.

As if.

He smirks, completely comfortable in his skin, and approaches the window like he’s ready to have a conversation with me.

When he’s naked.

I yank the shade down and my fists clench painfully while I imagine pummeling his date for the night.

And whoever he has lined up every other night, too.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Hannah.

My face burns and my skin is painfully tight as memories of exactly how Cade used to touch me overwhelm my senses.

Damn him and hisstupid,perfect body.

Aidan figures out how to work the siren on his firetruck, and I jump a mile at the familiar sound. His happy giggle means he will undoubtedly press that button at least 10,000 times.

You’re welcome, Hannah.

In the en suite bathroom, I sneak a glance at my work phone, trying to ground myself in the familiar.

Work makes sense.

Life in New York City is a critical part of my comfortable routine that keeps me busy enough to avoid painful introspection. And when the person I’m trying to avoid is 20 feet away, it becomes even more important.

Fiona:I’m so freakin’ in love with this manuscript! OMG, Victory, you’re incredible. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Victory:I’m SO glad you love it as much as I do!

Fiona:Enjoy your vacation! Don’t mind me. I’m just fangirling over my newest author.

Victory:Are you going to call her?!

Fiona:I’m curling up with her book and some Merlot tonight. I’ll make my final decision in the morning. But unless the rest of the book is blank pages or written by someone else, nothing is stopping me!

Victory:Ahhhhhhh! So amazing. It’s not a real vacation. You can get me whenever you need to.

Fiona:You’re the BEST. Seriously, I’m so glad you joined Gemstone. Let’s do dinner when you’re back in the city, mmmk?

Victory:Definitely!

A glance in the mirror confirms my face no longer matches my hair. As much as I can’t stand Cade, he certainly has a few skills I’ve missed over the years after repeatedly striking out with dating in the city.

God, what that man can do with his wicked tongue.

Remembering the look in his eyes when he buried himself inside me makes my legs so weak that I need to grab the counter.

But the blinding flash of remembered pain about what came next instantly turns my blood to ice. It’s the only reminder I need to knock my wild train of thought back on the correct track.

Cade Fenway knows how to treat women in bed. A lot of women. Outside the bedroom is an entirely different story.

“You should bring a sweater,” Hannah reminds me when I emerge from the bathroom. “It’s still cool in the evenings.”

Winter comes hard and fast in Montana and is reluctant to let go, blanketing the world in a soundproofed snow globe. Christmas in New York City has been the theme of many Hollywood movies, but I wouldn’t trade my holiday time in Montana for anything.

Last year, Cade put a damper on the festivities when he brought a date to my parents’ place for dinner, an insufferable airhead I’ve hated since kindergarten. She giggled constantly and was hanging off him while he ate, afraid he’d come to his senses and run away from her.

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