The Alpha Triangle

Fighting for Control

He picked me up and waited for me to wrap my legs around his waist. Once I did, his hands snaked around me and settled under the undersides of my thighs, holding me secure. Wes climbed the stairs as if I weighed nothing, pausing at the top step.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m not sure where I’m going,” he admitted.

Heat flushed my face and I tried to scramble down. “You aren’t getting away that easily,” he said, amused.

“I don’t know where we are either,” I replied. “I’ve only been here once. I was only allowed on the first floor. I don’t know which room is the master.”

He started nudging doors open with his foot. The second door revealed a room with a large king bed and Wes assumed this was ours. He kicked the door shut behind us. I tried to wiggle free again but he tightened his hold. At the edge of the bed he set me down gently, then crossed to the dresser opposite and began rifling through drawers that opened as if they’d been waiting for years.

After a few seconds, he came back with a pair of shorts, a baggy tee, and a small pair of panties. “Figured you’d want something comfy to sleep in,” he said. “Want a quick shower? I’ll find body wash and a towel.”

One of his palms landed on my thigh while he spoke, and I had a hard time focusing on his words. “It’s stuffy in here,” I said. “A cold shower would be nice.”

He moved into the ensuite and shuffled through the cupboards. Water began to hiss and then hit the floor in a steady rhythm. “Everything’s ready for you, love,” he called.

Clutching the clothes he’d found me, I headed for the bathroom. Wes leaned in the doorway. I tried to slip past, but he planted himself there.

“Do you need company? Maybe someone to wash that beautiful hair?” Wes purred.

“Nope. Maybe another time.” I squeezed my small frame past his hip and turned to shut the door. Only to realize there was nothing there. Wes’s smug expression said he’d known. He folded his arms across his chiseled chest, and I shot him a glare worthy of death. He raised his hands in mock surrender and retreated toward another dresser.

I took the moment to strip and slide into the shower before he could look back. Cold water hit me like a train while goosebumps rose along my thighs and arms. After I acclimated, I lathered coconut-scented wash through my hair and scrubbed my skin until the suds ran clear. I killed the water and listened for silence.

Wrapping the shower curtain tight around me, I leaned forward to snag a red towel from the counter. My fingertips brushed the fabric, but then I slipped. The curtain tore from my grip. Before I could hit the floor, Wes scooped me up bridal-style.

Panic slammed my eyes shut as I braced for a crash that never came. When I opened them, I was clutching his forearm, naked and soaked. He was on his knees, holding me, and then swift as a shadow, he had the towel wrapped around me.

“If you’re always this clumsy, I’m never going to be able to leave your side,” Wes said, voice soft as he handed me the clothes. He rose, pressed his hard body against mine for a heartbeat, then set the garments into my palms and headed back to the bedroom.

I watched him gather boxers and shorts, then return to the bathroom to place everything on the counter. He put his hands on my arms and asked, teasing, “Are you hoping for a show?”

I started toward the doorway and he spun me to face him. “You can, if you’d like,” he said.

“I think I’ll take this moment to get dressed,” I snapped, and walked to the bed.

From the doorway I heard the shower come back to life and caught one last glimpse. Wes’s back as he stepped inside. My pulse jackhammered. I forced my thoughts away from him, trying to steady myself before I lost whatever control I had left.

I glanced at the panties Wes had chosen. They were dark red, the same shade as the towel he’d handed me earlier. The shorts were loose and black, the shirt the same, though streaked with red lettering. Coincidence? Or something more?

The sound of running water cut off, and then the shower curtain slid back with a sharp snap. Wes stepped out, droplets rolling down his chest like liquid heat. He moved with unhurried confidence, standing on the bathmat as he dragged the towel through his hair, leaving his skin glistening. Once satisfied, he slung the towel low around his waist and padded into the bedroom.

That devilish glint returned to his eyes as he stopped at the foot of the bed. Our gazes locked. Then, without warning, the towel slipped to the floor.

It took every ounce of willpower not to look down. He wanted me to. I could feel the attention he craved, like a pull against my restraint. Slowly, he tugged on his boxers, then the red shorts. The exact shade of the panties he’d picked for me. My stomach twisted into knots. This was no coincidence.

I considered sleeping on the couch, or shoving him to the floor. But before I could sort the turmoil in my head, Wes crawled onto the bed. Damp strands of hair brushed my cheek, wild now, unruly and so perfectly him. My heartbeat thundered, a traitor to my resolve. I wanted to shove him away. Instead, I leaned into the heat pouring off his body.

We stared at each other for what felt like forever. Then he closed the gap, crushing his lips to mine with the same passion as before. Only this time, I didn’t hold back. My tongue tangled with his, demanding, exploring. His body pressed into mine, pinning me, and instinctively my legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closer, daring him not to leave.

His mouth left mine, trailing fire down my neck, sucking, tasting. My body burned. I wanted more. Needed more. I could feel the hard ridge beneath his shorts straining against me, and the ache inside me grew unbearable.

With a surge of reckless strength, I bucked my hips, flipping him onto his back. My breath came ragged as I straddled him, pinning his wrists above his head with one hand while the other clawed at the waistband of his shorts. For once, I wanted control.

But his eyes flickered from brown, then black, then brown again. The wolf lurked just beneath the surface.

In an instant, Wes broke free, twisting me beneath him. My wrists were wrenched behind my back, his grip firm, unyielding. I thrashed against him, furious at being restrained, but he only squeezed tighter, shutting his eyes. His chest rose and fell in heavy bursts, his jaw clenched.

Then, slowly, he opened his eyes. Still brown. Still in control.

“I think it’s time we get some rest,” Wes said quietly. His body stayed tense, waiting for my arousal to cool. When I finally stopped struggling against him, he released my wrists and rolled to his side of the bed.

Anger flared through me. Without thinking, I snatched the pillow from under his head and whacked him with it as hard as I could.

Wes caught it easily, grinning at me with maddening amusement. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, love.”

“Quit calling me love,” I snapped. “I’m obviously not yours. You stopped just barely as if the thought of being with me disgusted you.”

His grin faded. Sadness flickered in his eyes as he said softly, “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. But I couldn’t keep control of my wolf much longer. And I won’t risk hurting you. You’re so small compared to me. It wouldn’t take much.”

His hand came up, warm against my cheek, before he pressed the lightest kiss to my forehead. Then he lay back down, this time without a pillow, since I’d stolen the one he’d been resting on.

I had no words. Looking back, I knew I hadn’t been in full control of myself either. Part of me was relieved that one of us had the restraint to stop before we went too far.

His chest was still bare, faintly damp. I curled against him anyway, resting my head on the steady rise and fall of his breathing, looping my arm across his waist. His heartbeat drummed steadily under my ear. Within moments, the world slipped away, and sleep claimed me.