Page 25 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
“Here she is,” the assistant tells everyone and they all start snapping away even though we’re standing a meter apart.
Hunter scowls at the assistant and looks like he might start growling. Hardly the loved-up appearance we were going for so I saunter as best I can to his side and slide my arm around his waist (also solid). I lean against him and pin that smile straight back on my face.
“What are you doing?” he whispers tersely.
“Faking it, remember?”
He jolts ever so slightly and then his arm is mirroring mine, hugging me into him. He doesn’t actually manage a smile but I hope it seems convincing. It certainly feels convincing from down here. The warmth of his body against mine, the grip of his strong fingers at my waist. I feel protected and my little omega heart is singing again.
Alpha alpha alpha, she chimes, like a little lovesick and troublesome fairy.
We allow a few photographers to take our shot and then Hunter shuffles us around so the ones on the other side can snap us too.
“Give her a kiss, Hunter!” the red-haired one calls out.
My omega heart jumps up and down eagerly. Another kiss. I wouldn’t say no.
But Hunter shakes his head and drags me away.
“I wouldn’t have minded,” I reassure him, as we continue down the carpet.
“I’m not some performing seal,” he growls. “I don’t do tricks on demand.”
“You don’t? You must have a party trick. Everyone has a party trick.”
“I play the bass.”
I laugh. “Yep, that’s a pretty good one.” He not only plays the bass, he plays it better than any other musician I’ve heard. The kind of bass that has your blood thrumming. And the way his fingers move across the strings? Well, I can imagine he is good with his hands in all sorts of other tantalizing ways too. There’s a lot of speculation about that on the fansite!
“What’s yours then?” he asks.
“Ah ha. I can’t just tell you. I’d have to show you.”
“Go on then.”
“Not here,” I shriek, taking his hand in both of mine and squeezing those talented fingers.
“Now I’m incredibly intrigued. Why can’t you do it here?”
“Nope, my lips are sealed.”
His gaze drops to my lips and I can’t help thinking about that kiss. We need to do it again. In front of people.
As if he can read my thoughts he leans down and, pausing to see if I’ll pull away, presses his lips to mine. It doesn’t have the passion it did earlier. It’s sweet and gentle and I’m thankful for it considering my mom and grandma and half the neighborhood are probably watching this on their TVs. It still has the power to curl my toes though, in the good way, in the shivers-of-desire-down-your-spine way. It’s his damn scent, and the way his beard tickles my chin and the solidness of his body.So solid.
When he pulls back, I can’t help giggling at him.
“What?” he asks, perturbed by my reaction.
“You’re wearing my lipstick.”
“Shit!” He swipes his thumb across his mouth, only managing to smudge the red paint further across his lips and into his beard.
“You look like you just sucked someone’s blood.” I giggle some more.Or bit me, I think, those thoughts making my toes curl so hard I’m surprised I’m still upright. “Here let me.” I beckon him down and he bends. Layla is right. He is exceedingly tall. He reminds me of those trees in the national parks. Those tall broad ones that seem to stretch up into the sky and disappear into the clouds.
“What’s it like all the way up there?” I ask as I smooth my thumb over his lips and carefully remove the lipstick.
“All the way up where?”
