Renegade Alpha (ALPHA 5) Read online

  Callie had come to Grayson Security to ask for help in finding her father, not to have the man giving her that help also wanting to fuck her brains out.

  Which was why he had taken care of that little problem while he was in the shower.

  Much good it had done him, because he was so fucking hard again from just looking at her, his dick probably had an imprint of the zip of his jeans etched up the throbbing length of it.

  “Smells good,” he said gruffly.

  Callie had been so concentrated on what she was doing that she hadn’t realized Lijah had come back down the stairs. That catlike tread of his, she acknowledged ruefully.

  She drew in a sharp breath, her mouth going dry, her palms damp, and her nipples tightening into hard buds as she looked up at him. His hair was still damp from the shower and brushed ruthlessly back from his face. A clean-shaven face. Without that dark stubble, Lijah’s features were just as aristocratic as she had thought they might be. Wide, intelligent brow, those shrewd indigo eyes, the sharp slash of his high cheekbones, straight nose, sculptured lips, and he had a cleft in the center of his chin above that strong jaw.

  A black T-shirt now stretched across his wide shoulders and muscled chest and arms, black denims wrapped around that taut ass, and he was once again wearing the ubiquitous cowboy boots.

  He looked as if he had just stepped out of one of those advertisements for a male cologne every woman would want to buy in the hope it would give her man the same appeal as the male model.

  Except Callie was beginning to think there couldn’t possibly be another man quite like Lijah.

  Was she getting a crush on this man?

  A crush? Oh come on, Callie, you aren’t sixteen anymore. Be honest with yourself and call it exactly what it is. Lust.

  Lijah Smith pushed every one of her lust buttons without even trying.

  Buttons she hadn’t even known she had until meeting him.

  She had dated a lot during her university years, and she had been seeing Michael for two months before— Before. But she had never experienced this totally physical response—lust—with any of those other men.

  Michael always wore suits, was sophisticated, courteous, well-read, enjoyed the theatre and the ballet, and was articulate on all those subjects. The two of them shared passionate kisses good night at the end of an evening out together, but he had never tried to take their relationship to the next level. He was, in fact, the perfect gentleman, and exactly the sort of man any parent would be pleased to see their daughter dating.

  Lijah Smith was the direct opposite of Michael in every way, and yet…

  And yet he made her pulse race, her palms go damp, and her nipples hard. Her thoughts also turned to hot, entwined, and naked, sweaty bodies every time she looked at him and imagined those naked bodies as being her own and Lijah’s.

  “Lasagna,” she answered him abruptly. “And garlic bread.” The fridge had been empty—as evidence that Lijah had been away for at least several days?—but she had found lots of ready-made meals in the freezer, and as they didn’t have a lot of time, she had decided to opt for one of them.

  “Do you need any help?”

  Callie shook her head. “I’m good.” A blush instantly colored her cheeks as she inwardly acknowledged Lijah made her want to behave very, very badly.

  He gave her a frowning, slightly questioning glance before nodding as he pulled out one of the chairs at the table and sat, legs sprawled.

  Revealing a very large—and telling—bulge at the front of his jeans.

  Lijah gave a self-conscious grimace as Callie raised her startled gaze to his. “What can I say, that part of a man’s anatomy functions completely without reference or permission from his brain. I’m convinced that sudden rush of blood to one spot is why men can’t think and fuck at the same time.”

  The blush deepened in Callie’s cheeks as she placed their food on the table before sitting opposite him. “Strange reaction to lasagna.” She attempted to laugh off the moment before changing the subject completely. “What time are we leaving for the airport?”

  Lijah gave a humorless grin at her response—or dismissal—of his comment. “The plane is being readied for takeoff right now, so we’ll drive out to the private airfield as soon as we’re finished here.”

  Her brows rose. “I thought we were flying commercial?”

  “I decided against it. Time is a factor here, which means I don’t want to have to change planes several times in order to cover our tracks. I would also prefer that our names don’t show up on any list of passengers flying directly to Washington.” His expression was grim. “I discussed the situation with Dair earlier, and he suggested, as Grayson Security’s plane isn’t available, that I ask his cousin if we can borrow his plane.”

  “Dair’s cousin owns his own plane?”

  Lijah nodded. “Lucien Wynter. Heard of him?”

  Everyone had heard of the reclusive billionaire businessman Lucien Wynter. And the rumors connecting him to London’s criminal underworld. “You know some interesting people.” It also answered her question as to how Lijah intended to get his weapons through security. She had no doubt there was a cursory check even for people traveling on private planes, but probably not as much as there would have been on a commercial flight.

  “You have no idea,” Lijah assured her with feeling, and this time he knew it was his gaze that avoided meeting Callie’s curious one as he picked up his fork and began to eat.

  Lucien’s story was his own to tell, and he was far from being the most interesting person in Lijah’s life.

  Not that he thought his family was interesting. It was just different. And not in a good way. His parents were uptight, formal, and appearances were everything to them. Which was maybe why Lijah did the opposite in regard to his own appearance.

  His parents lived in a castle, for fuck’s sake, and opened up the grounds and gardens once a year to “amuse the masses.”

  His father was also a complete and utter bastard, and Lijah, as the only son and heir, couldn’t wait to get away from him once he’d reached eighteen. He’d never looked back. Never intended to either. Ever.

  “Lijah?”

  He could feel the scowl darkening his brow as he looked across at Callie questioningly.

  She gave him a quizzical glance. “You seemed far away for a few minutes there.”

  Not nearly far enough, in Lijah’s opinion. He never thought about his family anymore. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t exist. Not his too-handy-with-his-fists father or his too-weak-to-defend-her-own-son mother. They could rot in hell together for all he cared.

  “I’m not hungry.” He dropped his fork onto his plate and pushed it away. “Not for food, anyway.” He eyed Callie speculatively as he slowly stood.

  Callie had no idea what Lijah had been thinking about the past few minutes, but he’d gone from being his usual economically terse self to a man whose eyes now glittered with a cold intensity.

  An intensity that appeared to be centered on her as he stepped purposefully around the table. Callie swallowed, her gaze on a level with that noticeable bulge at the front of his jeans.

  “Lijah?” She pushed back against the chair as she looked up at him.

  “Say no now, Callie, because I won’t give you a second chance,” he warned gruffly as he grasped hold of her arms and easily pulled her to her feet to stand in front of him.

  The difference in their heights meant she had to tilt her head back in order to look him in the face. She wasn’t in the least reassured by what she saw there. The darkness of his gaze was fixed on her slightly parted lips, and there was a ruddiness to his cheeks, and those chiseled lips were curled into a humorless smile of intent. The muscles in his arms and chest were also tense. As if he was preparing to pounce.

  Callie ran her tongue nervously across her bottom lip, her breath hitching in her throat as that indigo gaze darkened even more as it followed the movement.

  Was it wrong of her to w
ant to feel those sensuous lips against her own? To want that hard and aroused body pressing into her softer curves, if only for a few minutes?

  Was it wrong of her to want another man, this man, when Michael had only been dead for six months?

  Lijah’s eyes narrowed to dark slits. “There’s no room between the two of us for anyone else.”

  Callie flinched at how easily he had been able to read her guilty thoughts.

  She had been well on her way to loving Michael when he died, but she hadn’t yet been in love with him. Whereas in just a few hours of being with Lijah, watching him in action, she had definitely fallen in lust with him.

  Was it wrong of her to feel this way?

  “Oh for fuck’s sake!” Lijah growled as his arms moved about her waist and he pulled her in tightly against the muscled contours of his body, crushing her hands against his chest. “This is real, Callie.” He deliberately ground the hardness of his erection against her. “I’m here, you’re here, and you sure as hell can’t fuck a ghost.”

  She flinched, both at his words and the underlying anger in his tone. “That was completely uncalled for.”

  He shrugged. “The truth is the truth.”

  “And you’re big on the truth, are you?” she accused.

  “Yeah, I am, as it happens.”

  Callie believed him, could clearly see the dangerous glitter in his eyes. Lying to this man wasn’t an option.

  “What’s the problem, Callie?” His face had hardened. “And don’t say it’s because you don’t want me, because I’ve seen the way you’ve been watching me all afternoon.”

  Her cheeks blazed with guilty heat. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from watching him. She also hadn’t known he was aware of it. “You’re quite impressive in work mode,” she came back defensively.

  “I’m quite impressive in a lot of modes,” he assured her dryly.

  Callie already knew that too, had realized it from the moment Lijah emerged from underneath the Stetson that this man had the power and expertise to absolutely wreck a woman on a physical level. Knew he would claim and give absolute pleasure, while revealing nothing of himself. “Michael and I weren’t lovers.”

  He stilled. “Why the hell did you tell me that?”

  “Because you were making assumptions that simply aren’t true.”

  “Perfectly natural ones in the circumstances, I would have thought,” he drawled, eyes narrowing. “What was wrong with Hammond?”

  She drew in an indignant gasp. “There was nothing wrong with him!”

  “Then why didn’t he— Was he was of those gay artistic types?”

  Callie was rendered almost—almost—speechless. “How dare you?” she managed to burst out. “Michael was a gentleman, and he certainly wasn’t gay.”

  “And I’m so obviously neither one of those things.” Lijah eyed her mockingly. “You want me anyway.”

  Callie could feel that want now, pulsing, heating, arousing as it clawed at her insides wanting to break free. And she so wanted to forget the horror of these past months—and the ordeal to come—and lose herself in the promise of pleasure she could see glinting in Lijah’s eyes as he looked down at her.

  She wanted his strength, his possession, if only for a brief time, to breathe in and lose herself in his body and that hot male musk that had curled its way into her senses.

  As Lijah was now breathing her in, his face buried against the column of her throat, lips nuzzling, tongue tasting as it licked against that sensitive flesh.

  “Yes…” Callie acknowledged achingly, giving a shiver of pleasure even as her neck arched in silent invitation.

  “Better.”

  “You want me too.” The evidence of that was all too obvious.

  “Never said I didn’t.” His breath was hot against her skin. “So, we have time for food, or we have time to fuck. Which is it going to be, Callie?”

  Despite those early years spent on army bases with her father, Callie knew she had never met a man as direct as Lijah before. At least ten years older than her, with those bad-boy good looks that tempted a woman into sin, he didn’t even attempt to pretty up his intention with compliments or seduction, or a claim of having feelings for her. He stated exactly what he wanted: sex without false emotions or promises.

  They could eat, or they could fuck.

  All Callie had to do was choose which one.

  Chapter 5

  “Maybe a little hors d’oeuvre would help to make up your mind,” he murmured as his lips grazed across her jaw on a path toward her lips.

  Callie couldn’t breathe, certainly didn’t have the willpower to resist.

  She wanted Lijah to kiss her. Wanted so much more than kisses. Had been wanting them—him, for hours now.

  She expected his kiss to be hard and demanding. Instead, his hands moved to cup either side of her face as he tilted it up toward his and those chiseled lips claimed hers in soft exploration. Testing her response as he sipped and tasted, giving a low groan in his throat when her lips parted tentatively beneath his and her hands glided up the warmth of his chest, fingers grasping hold of his muscled shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as she silently pleaded for more.

  Maddeningly, he continued those slow and tempting kisses as the heavy weight of his erection pressed and rubbed against her, his hips arched into hers.

  “Lijah, please,” she pleaded between those frustrating kisses that really were only that starter he had suggested, a promise of what was to come.

  His teeth nipped at her jawline. “You haven’t said yes yet,” he reminded, voice dark and smoky from his restrained desire.

  They could eat, or they could fuck.

  It was an offer so raw, so utterly basic, and with absolutely no suggestion of his ever wanting anything else from her. Lijah wasn’t even asking for her to like him, only that she want and desire him.

  The desire was a given. And she did want him. Over her. Inside her. Claiming her. Pounding into her relentlessly as he took them both into mind-numbing, pleasure-filled oblivion.

  She needed this.

  She needed Lijah.

  “Yes or no, Callie,” he encouraged throatily, gaze holding hers as his hands moved slowly down and then up her sides to hold the weight of her breasts in his palms, fingers caressing, finding and then gently squeezing her hard and aching nipples.

  The pleasure of those caresses shot directly to her core, the lips of her labia swelling, relaxing in readiness for him as they became slick with her juices—

  “No.” Lijah was the one to groan in harsh protest.

  “What?” Callie looked up at him in bewilderment as he straightened abruptly, his expression bleak, the lust having faded from those dark indigo eyes. “What’s wrong? I didn’t say no. I didn’t say anything!” To her shame, her voice broke emotionally as Lijah stepped away from her, removing his reassuring heat and the promised pleasure in that hard, aroused body.

  “Didn’t you hear someone’s banging on the fucking door?” Anger darkened his face as he turned to glare in the direction of the door through which they had entered the warehouse earlier. A door within the much bigger door that had obviously once moved up to allow deliveries into the warehouse.

  Callie hadn’t heard anyone knocking on the door. She hadn’t been aware of anything except Lijah and the pleasure of having his hands, lips, and eyes on her.

  “Stay here,” Lijah directed distractedly, glaring his displeasure as he turned to stride toward the door.

  No one—absolutely no one—came here. No one was ever invited here. No one was allowed to come here.

  But someone was definitely daring to invade his privacy. Lijah felt so pissed, he wanted to open the door and rip the head off the shoulders of whoever was standing out there.

  And not just because they shouldn’t be here.

  His cock was once again pounding in a painful, demanding rhythm. He had been so close, so damned close to carrying Callie upstairs to his bedroom, and now this.
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  Whatever—whoever, this was.

  He wrenched the door open with such aggression and a scowl on his face that the man standing outside took an instinctive step back. “Who the hell are you?” Lijah growled in challenge.

  The man wore a nondescript dark suit and plain white shirt with a neatly knotted dark tie, which did absolutely nothing to lessen the bulging muscles beneath.

  Lijah knew he had never set eyes on this man before.

  The other man seemed to gather himself together as he straightened. “I’m Mr. Wynter’s chauffeur. I’m here to drive you and your guest to the airport.”

  How the fuck did Lucien Wynter know where he lived?

  Strike that question, Lijah. Lucien Wynter is a powerful unstoppable force, and he will make it his business to know whatever the hell he wants to know.

  And right now it seemed he wanted to know where Lijah lived.

  “Wonderful,” he accepted disgustedly.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Smith? I can come back later if—”

  “Just wait outside in the car, and we’ll join you in a minute.” He closed the door in the other man’s face before he had a chance to reply.

  Great. Just fucking great. He invited Callie into his home for a few hours, and now the whole damned world and its chauffeur thought they were invited in too.

  Not that he didn’t appreciate the ride. It would save him having to leave his own car at the airport. But it would have been nice to be consulted, asked, rather than having that arrogant bastard just assume—

  Lucien Wynter was Dair’s cousin. What else did Lijah expect? No doubt the two men had talked on the telephone after Lijah spoke to Dair, and the two of them had decided on this one together.

  “Lijah?”

  He turned to glower across at Callie. The woman he had fully intended taking to bed just a few short minutes ago.

  So maybe you should be thanking the chauffeur for the interruption rather than wanting to rip his head off his shoulders?

  He never allowed a mission to become personal, couldn’t afford to do so when lives were at stake. He couldn’t let this one become personal either.

  Any more personal than it already was, when it was Peter Morgan he was going to the States to find.