Page 29 of Perfect Alpha

It’s only the next driveway over, but it takes way too long to get there. I scramble out of the truck to open the passenger door, taking her hand and leading her to the front porch.

It’s like stepping back in time to when we were madly in love and couldn’t live without each other.

We still can’t.

I don’t know who moves first, but we’re suddenly kissing each other for everything we’re worth. Her hands knock my New York Yankees cap off, an attempt at being ironic or perhaps an asshole. She tangles her hands in my hair, forcing me to deepen a kiss that has already sucked all the breath from my chest.

Victory bites my lower lip and I growl, the remembered pleasure of how rough we are together making my already throbbing cock somehow even harder.

“You’ve been hard forsolong, Cade.” She slides her hand down my body to grip me through my jeans, making my head tilt back on a groan. “How does that feel? Do you miss me touching you?”

“Mmm, you make me feel so good, angel,” I murmur, locking her in a vice grip and using the first nickname I ever gave her. “I miss everything about you.” I’m shaking violently and can’t think about anything other than touching her absolutely everywhere.

My hand moves between her legs, the heat of her scorching me through the damp denim and making me grit my teeth. She rocks her hips and moans into my neck while my free hand snakes up to cup one of her breasts.

“You’re so wet for me,” I groan. She’s trembling in my arms, and it’s going to be so easy to have her exactly how I crave. “And it’s making me want to come in my jeans right here, right now.”

“I remember exactly how to make your eyes roll back in your head, Mr. Fenway,” she purrs, giving my cock a very welcome squeeze.

“How about you do it right now?” Stars flash before my eyes, and my legs threaten to buckle when I imagine Victory on her knees.

I have never been so horny in my life or wanted anything on earth as much as I want the woman in my arms. I need her to open the front door so I can carry her upstairs and fuck her so good that the only word she remembers is my name.

When she leans back in my arms to study me, her guard is completely dropped and she looks so goddamn innocent. I never intended to break her, but when her voice cracks with vulnerability, I fear that’s exactly what I’ve done.

“Cade… Do you…”

And it’s written all over her face.

She was trying to play with me, to tease me like I do to her. But something shifted, and we’ve slipped back into our old dynamic of beinguswhile strolling down memory lane.

She’s not toying with me anymore.

She wants me.

The hope in her eyes shatters me, and I have to avert my gaze to avoid confessing the truth about the day I ripped both of our hearts out.

This isn’t a game anymore.

“Do you…” she repeats. “Ever think about me? About us? About what… what… could have happened if we… we… stayed together? Where we’d be now?”

Victory looks earnest as she speaks my truth, staring into my eyes with a mixture of promise and desire that would be so easy to get drunk on.

But this conversation needs to stop because it will destroy her if we have sex tonight without becoming a couple. My selfish desire to spend time with her has now forced me into hurting her again to ensure she keeps right on hating me.

Fuck, I’m such an idiot.

“No. Never.” Lying through my teeth doesn’t get any easier with time. “You know I’m not the girlfriend type.”

The practiced line comes out so quickly and smoothly that she’ll believe it’s true. Tears well in her eyes, and she flinches like I slapped her before disentangling from my arms. She looks into the distance, biting her lip as she regains control.

“You know I don’t think sex and love are anywhere close to the same thing. You can’t separate the two,” I remind her.

Based on her murderous expression, she doesn’t get the subliminal message I’m sending. Flings are easy for me because there’s no emotion involved. And if she wants me back in her bed, she’s still in love with me.

My hands burn with the desire to hold her and explain everything, but I don’t.

I can’t.

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