Page 5 of Rocked By the Alpha
“Have you been watching me?”
“Can you blame me?”
She peered at him over the top of her menu. “This one, please.” She swiveled the card around, her finger hovering over the cocktail with the longest list of ingredients.
His grin grew wider and he shook his head. “I like a challenge.”
Running his finger down the list, he mumbled the names of each drink to himself and then ducked under the bar to rummage around. She knew she could leave. Get up and walk away. But she wanted the drink. She wanted to make him work.
He emerged with a cocktail shaker and a shot measurer. “Vodka and gin, right? Does it say how many shots?”
“No. I guess you’ll have to take a gamble.”
“I like a gamble.”
Leaving the thimble to one side, he unscrewed the cap on an expensive bottle of real Russian vodka and tipped some into the shaker, pulling his arm away quickly so the liquid ran slowly, then fast. Next, he poured in the gin and scooped out ice from the bucket.
“What else?”
“You’re the barman.”
“I’d better get a good tip for this.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps.”
His eyes seemed to glint and fell down to the neckline of her top. Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. She was used to guys hitting on her, although the majority were Betas, unaware that she was an Omega. It was rare to come across an Alpha. Especially a secret Alpha.
He held up two plain metallic bottles. “Which one do you think is the strawberry syrup?”
“I thought you liked to gamble.”
“Both then,” he said, emptying them in and then finding the tap to add soda to the shaker.
“I think this is going to be revolting.”
“Have some faith.” He winked and shook the shaker, the ice rattling inside. Then he winked again and spun the shaker in his hand, before lifting a glass down from the shelf, flipping it into the air, spinning around and catching it behind his back.
“Am I meant to be impressed?” she asked.
“Oh, come on, you are just a little bit.” He poured her drink into the glass. She reached out to take it from the bar, but he snatched it away. “Uh uh, it’s not done yet.” He reached into the bowls laid out along the bar, adding a slice of orange to the rim and then a bright red cherry, a tiny umbrella, a sparkly stick and a straw.
“That looks ridiculous.”
“I’m trying my best to impress you.” He handed her the drink, his fingertips brushing against hers as she took it from him. “Is it working, Omega?” he whispered, and her eyes flipped up to meet his.
“I’m not an Om—”
“Yeah, and I’m not an Alpha. I can smell the blockers on you.” He leaned closer, over the bar. “I can smell your slick.”
She glared at him, even though his words, spoken in a deep Alpha growl, sent a shiver down her spine and instinctively she could feel herself getting wet.
Fuck, she hated her traitorous body sometimes. The way it responded to an Alpha like that, so willing to roll over and be fucked, when what she really wanted was to take a sip of this drink and throw it in his face. That had been the plan when he’d first jumped over that bar, anyway. Now she had a desire to throw the drink over his face just so she could lick it off.
“Thanks for the drink,” she said, holding it to her lips and taking a sip, then lifting it in a salute to him.
He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist.
“You haven’t paid for that drink.” He said it playfully, with no aggression, and yet she could smell his scent darkening, his eyes too.
