Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart (55 page)

It’s only the first weekend in
September, but it’s cold out here on the dock. I undo my jeans and wriggle to
push them down, exposing my butt in thong underwear to the frigid night air. I
can see my breath, even though last week it was still summer. Goosebumps race
over my bared cheeks. They already sprinkle my arms and chest, since I’ve stripped
down to my bra and my t-shirt is lying on the planks of the dock, on top of my
shoes.

I stop and rub my arms, trying to
warm up. Am I covered in bumps because I’m cold or because I’m nervous? When
I’m finally naked, I’m supposed to jump into the lake. And that rippling, black
water looks freezing. Waves slap against the side of the dock. The smell of
smoke from the cabin’s fireplace fills the crisp air. Music sounds faintly from
the cabin and laughter spills off the deck. The sounds of an end of summer
party and I have to bite my lip because tears are burning in the corners of my
eyes. I’m nostalgic at the best of times, and this weekend—my last before I
leave for college—is killing me. In so many ways.

I have my back to Ryan, but I peek
over my shoulder. In the pitch dark—clouds cover the sliver of moon—I can
barely see him. I hear the boards creak under his feet and his fly unzip, and I
hear his breathing. Ryan runs ten miles every morning and evening, and he never
seems to be out of breath when he’s finished. But tonight, his breathing sounds
fast and furious.

Just like mine.

"Whoa Jesus, that’s cold."

I take another peek and hear his
footsteps as he walks to the end of the dock, out of my field of vision. I
suppose I can’t ogle him until I get everything off and let him get a look at
me.

I’ve never seen Ryan naked. That’s
funny and strange, coming from me, but I promised I was going to be
different—everything was going to be different when mom and I came here to
Milltown to live. It was like starting over again. And by some miracle I found
something I thought I’d never find, something I was too screwed up to ever
have.

An amazing, sweet, decent—not to
mention uber gorgeous—guy. When Ryan went west to do his tour of his future
military college in the summer, he sent me a rose. A single, perfect red rose
in a crystal vase, delivered to my front door by courier. Why? Because he was
going to be away from me for two days and he missed me.

Even remembering it, standing
freezing on the dock, I start blinking. Damn, the tears are starting. I
promised I would get through this one night without crying. I’ve got lots of
time to cry on the trip to Yardley College—two days to do nothing but think
about Ryan.

Tonight I get to see him. I’m not
going to screw that up by being sad a day early. Tonight I know exactly what
I’m going to do. This is probably it for Ryan and I—he’s going to be in the
state of Washington at a military school, I’m going to be at Yardley College,
in New Hampshire. For tonight, I’ve decided to ditch the good girl thing.

I’m going to make love to Ryan for
the first and basically only time.

I’ve got one night to throw away
all my promises to be sweet and good—the exact opposite of what I really am.
I’ve thought about sex with Ryan for months now, and I’ve restrained myself.
But I don’t want to go the rest of my life wishing I’d taken the chance to make
love to a guy I love.

So I commit. I shove down my jeans
and kick them aside. Undies next or bra? I guess the bra, and it’s a fight to
unhook it. Bras are my addiction. This one is candy pink with white lace and
even though it’s dark, the bra practically glows. My breasts bounce as it comes
off and tighten as a wave of goosebumps wash over them. My nipples go hard at
once and I cup my boobs with my hands in the desperate hope to warm them.

Why—so the shock of the water hurts
more?

I have to let my breasts go anyway
to ditch the thong. At least I can see my bra, shining like a beacon in the
night—like a lighthouse for crazy females about to skinny dip in frigid water.
I know where to toss my undies.

Clouds part above me and shafts of
silver-blue moonlight fall on us and the water.

"Mia—" Ryan’s voice, deep
and sexy and low, stops abruptly. Nineteen—like me—Ryan possesses the hottest
vocals of any guy at Hubert J. Rory High. Baritone tones and a deep, throaty
laugh. The first time I heard him read a section of Shakespeare in English
class, I swear I almost had a climax on the spot. And that was for MacBeth.

I turn quickly. A spike of
fear—this is going to be it. We’re going to be a thousand miles apart. He’s
going to break up with—

I forgot I’m naked. My breasts
swing, nipples perky, the curves limned with silver. But I’m staring at Ryan.
Seriously, I’ve seen David Beckham’s underwear ads, and Becks didn’t begin to
look as good as Ryan. Bulging muscle define his straight shoulders, and his
chest is broad and bronzed from the sun. A tattoo of a dragon perches on his
left pectoral muscle. Just looking at his arm muscles makes me feel a tug deep
inside. A hard, visceral tug telling me how much I want to wrap myself around
him and take him deep inside me.

It is more intense when you’re in
love. Now I know. The jolt of desire is so strong my legs shake with it. My
gaze coasts down his amazing gut. His stomach is a flat plane, with an
eight-pack instead of a six. Who knew there were
that
many muscles?

I let
my eyes go a little lower—

One Hot Winter Break

Sharon Page

Excerpt

It is ten days before Xmas, and
Ryan and I are lying in my bed while my mom is out, entwined together to stay
warm. My mom keeps the heat down in the bungalow to save on the bills, so we
spend a lot of time in the winter wearing coats inside.

Ryan is under my sheets and worn
quilt. His toes stick out of the end of my bed, which bothers me as I’m sure he
is cold. He doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe because we’re both naked.

He kisses the top of my head, a
Ryan-gesture I adore. "What do you want for Christmas, Mia?"

"This." I snuggle close
to him, and wrap my hand around his amazing cock that is already hard again.
I’m supposed to be the one who can keep coming time after time and enjoy the
multiple orgasm phenomena, but Ryan and I have been apart so much that he is
now insatiable. Apparently guys can bank up their horniness, and it can all
explode at once.

I give his rigid shaft a squeeze. I
have small hands and can barely touch my fingers around him. "This is all
I want," I say, "being in bed with you."

Ryan gazes at me under his long,
dark lashes. His hair, buzzed almost to his scalp, is white-blond but his
eyelashes are black. He laughs huskily. "I want to give you more than
that."

I hesitate. I know Ryan is
struggling to afford school, even with the scholarship. "I don’t need
anything else. You don’t have to get me anything." When he came to visit
me just before Thanksgiving, he showed me how to use the equipment in the
architecture school’s wood and metal working shops, which save me from failing
my major fall term project. I really don’t need anything else.

"I want to get you a gift."

"Don’t, Ryan. You need your
money for school."

He frowns, his lashes flicking down
over his sapphire blue eyes. He runs his hand over his white-blond stubble. On
Ryan, the severe hair cut looks sexy. "I’m not that poor, Mia."

"You—" I break off. I
was about to argue and say that I know he is and I don’t care. That I don’t
need stuff. But Ryan has a lot of pride.

He sits up in my bed, the sheets
tumbling off him. The cool air washes over me and my heart hammers.

I’ve hurt him. Money is something
he’s sensitive about.

I sit up too, my bare breasts
jiggling. My nipples go hard from the cold. Goose bumps jump up all over my
breasts. Shivering, I lean over and put my lips to his cock. He tastes of sex,
of his come. Sticking out my tongue, I run it lavishly around the taut head. I
strum along the crown, then open my mouth and suck his cock deep inside.

I want to make things up to him.

He groans, but he cups my chin and
gently pushes me back, forcing me to release him. "I don’t want pity. You
don’t have to do this to make me feel better."

True, making him feel better was
sort of why I was doing it. But I say, "I was doing it because I like
sucking and licking you."

Ryan gets out of the bed, which
startles me. He pulls on his sweatshirt, covering his broad bare chest. "Is
that why you sleep with me? You feel sorry for me. You think I’ve had it rough."

"No, that’s definitely not why
I sleep with you."

But he’s a guy. Guys don’t listen. "I’m
not good enough for you, Mia."

I get up on my knees, my old
mattress sinking under my weight. "That’s not true, Ryan." I hate
confrontation. I want to say I love him, but maybe that will make everything
worse.

"You know about all the crap
in my life and it’s made you feel sorry for me." He runs his hand over his
short hair again. His sapphire-blue eyes are filled with pain. "Why else
would you be with me?"

"Maybe because I care about
you?"

He doesn’t say anything. He picks
up his white briefs from the floor, and yanks them up his muscular legs. Under
his sweatshirt, his biceps flex and his forearms are hard as steel. He was
always strong from football, mixed martial arts training, and work in the
garage. But a term in military college has bulked up his pecs, his biceps, even
tightened the muscles of his amazing butt. He’s sexy and beautiful.

My brain is slowly processing
information. He’s putting on clothes. Does this mean he’s walking away? Out the
door? What
does
this mean?

What in hell did I do that was so
wrong? "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you." I feel confused and
bad. But angry, too. Why isn’t he just talking to me?

I’ve spent way too much of my life
feeling that way over stuff that I did, or didn't do wrong. I’ve never meant to
hurt anyone. And right now, I’m starting to shake.

My reflection flashes back at me
from the round mirror on my pink dressing table—I’ve had it since I was six. My
hair is all tangled from sex, falling in red-blonde messed-up waves that spill
over my shoulders and half-cover my breasts. My face is pale.
Count-the-freckles pale.

He looks at me with this kind of
unutterable sorrow on his face. "I’m sorry, too. I should have talked to
you before now." He has his jeans in his hand.

What’s
going on here?

# # #

Burns Like Fire

Mandy Rosko

Jack Marilla is out for
revenge for the deaths of his family, and the burn scars that cover his body.
To get it, he has to hunt down the woman he used to love, the paranormal fire
starter who set his house ablaze with him, and his family, locked inside of it.
When he catches her, however, he faces his biggest challenge yet. To not
believe her when she claims to be innocent, or fall for her seduction.

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