Page 16 of The Alpha’s Promise (Alpha Doms #3)

Choosing to ride the Ducati had nothing to do with the pleasure of having a certain beautiful redhead’s thighs straddling his hips, arms around his waist. Nor had it been about shoving his hellion ways in her face again. Right.

It might have had something to do with not thinking himself capable of sharing the cab of the truck with her for the trip, inhaling her scent and suffering through small talk.

He wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes without giving into the need to shove the seat back and tell her where he’d like her mouth to go.

Especially with the moon full and his beast so close to the surface.

Melissa unclasped her hands from their hold around his waist. He immediately missed having her body notched against his back.

He expected her to look annoyed about having her hair mussed or the trip being too frightening—she’d held him in a death grip the entire time—but she wore a smile when she pulled off the helmet.

When she gave her auburn waves a toss, sending them cascading over her slender shoulders, he distinctly heard the chicka-bow-wow play in the background of his mind.

Her eyes weren’t on him, though. She walked toward the cabin with eagerness plastered all over her face. “Wow. When you said cabin, I wasn’t picturing a full-on mountain retreat.”

One corner of his lips kicked up at her girlish enthusiasm. He hadn’t been prepared for this reaction. She skipped up the steps while he unloaded the food from the saddlebags. “When was this built?”

“I finished it last year.”

She whirled, her mouth open, her full lips forming a little O . “You built this? Yourself?”

He tried to ignore the cascade of pride her awe provoked. “Yeah.” He reached past her and hit the code on the security pad to unlock the door, somehow managing not to shove her against it and press his ever-eager cock against her lush, jean-clad ass.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, rushing in the moment he pushed open the door.

“This is so beautiful.” Her gaze swept over the oversized living room as she charged forward, checking out all the rooms. “I love the vaulted ceilings and the blend of rustic with high-tech. It’s just like a CJ Steele home.

This is incredible. What’s the square footage, three thousand? ”

“Thirty-two hundred.” He didn’t mean to, but he dropped the saddlebags with their clothes and food and followed Melissa as she rushed through the cabin.

“Four bedroom, two bath?”

“That’s right.”

“And this? Where did you find these carved supports?”

“I carved them.” His throat tightened. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much what she thought of the place.

“Who made this sink? It’s incredible.”

The sink was a hand-thrown and fired clay pottery beauty in shades of ochre and rust. “A friend of mine makes those.”

“Does Mr. Steele use these in any of his houses?”

A shard of irritation jabbed him. Her hero worship of ‘Mr. Steele’ was so at odds with her condescension toward him. Some stubborn part of him needed her to respect him , the guy standing in front of her, not the real estate success she worshipped.

“Yeah, these sinks are in a few of his properties.”

“Cody.” She turned.

He fucking loved hearing his name on her lips, although he loved it more when she was screaming it at the height of a climax. He schooled his features, hoping to hide the dirty thoughts looping through his mind on a constant playback. “Yeah?”

“Do you own this place?”

“It belongs to the pack.” That wasn’t exactly an untruth.

He’d built the cabin for the pack—a meeting place and a getaway for anyone who needed it.

It had taken him four years, working weekends, but he’d loved every minute of it.

Nearly every member of the pack had contributed their labor for it, too, which made it truly fitting as their home base.

“This property is worth a lot.” The awe in her voice should not please him so damn much. He didn’t want to impress her with money, after all.

“How much would you list it for?” He was curious about her skill as an agent. She said she’d lost a deal with him. Had she improved since then?

“Four ninety-eight for a quick sale. Five thirty if you wanted the perfect buyer.”

“The perfect buyer? Who is that, exactly?”

“It’s the person who will love your property as much as you do. The one who will take care of it, or improve it. The one who will give it a new story.”

He stared at her, fascinated. His agent sure as hell never talked about people loving his properties.

There was no emotion discussed in any of his transactions.

Yet, watching her face light up as she described this love for a property, he knew exactly what she meant.

He loved every property he ever worked on.

And it was, sometimes, hard to turn his back on them when he sold.

He’d never considered finding the ‘right’ buyer as a means of easing that pain.

“How would you show me this property, if I were a client?”

One corner of her lips lifted and her eyelids drooped slightly, as if talking real estate was a form of foreplay for her.

She returned to the front door and beckoned him over.

He pictured her in the tight skirt and heels she’d been wearing on the day he met her, her long auburn waves done up in a French twist. No—scratch that—hair down for this fantasy, always hair down, tempting his fingers to wrap it in his fist and pull. He sauntered to her side.

“I think you’re going to be blown away by this place, Mr.—er—” She stopped, eyes seeking his face for help with her pretend game.

He didn’t want to tell her his last name was Steele. Not now, maybe not ever. “Cody.”

She rolled her eyes but went on. “Mr. Cody. It’s more a work of art than a mere building.

One of the members of the CJ Steele Construction team built this one, and it has all the same touches, which raises its value significantly.

In time, I believe CJ Steele properties will become as sought after as, say, Frank Lloyd Wright buildings in other cities. ”

Cody gaped at her. Was she really comparing him with an architect? An artist? Some unknown emotion threatened to expand his chest beyond comfort. An itchiness came over him, like he needed to shift and run. But from what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe from the feelings closing his throat.

She stepped to the center of the room and pointed toward the floor.

“The wood floor looks like pine, but it’s actually Australian cypress”—she shot him a questioning look and he nodded in affirmation—“which is a harder wood and far more durable. Notice the builder chose to leave the interior walls as the same rough log as the exterior. This is a classic CJ Steele technique of exposing the raw materials. He doesn’t hide anything; instead he puts it front and center.

In his industrial remodels, he exposes brick and uses the steel housing for electrical wires as a focal point.

Here, in this cabin, he brings the outdoors in, yet still provides every comfort you’d crave in a getaway.

” She trailed off with her monologue and looked at him sheepishly.

“I know it’s not really a CJ Steele house, but I would sell it that way.

Maybe I’d be cheating the buyer, I don’t know. ” She shrugged.

He tried to speak around the knot in his throat. When nothing came out, he pulled her against him and crushed his lips to hers.

She gasped, jerking in surprise, then softening into the kiss. He slid his tongue between her lips, holding her nape to keep her captive. Then, because the little control he had was slipping, he pulled away.

“So your royal highness can stand the digs while I run?” He didn’t know why he had to poke her with that again, when he liked her the way she was now, soft and appreciative.

It probably had something to do with needing something to wedge between them, because as much as his inner wolf screamed she was his, he didn’t want her.

Not a human. He wasn’t going to make his father right.

She flinched, and when she turned, the haughty tilt of her chin told him his barb had hit its mark.

“Is this just a new cage to lock me in while you go off and do your thing?” She put her hands on hips, her perky breasts seeming to taunt him through her snug cotton tee. “Am I allowed to step out the door?”

Hating the way he’d changed things between them, he picked up the saddlebags and tossed the food supplies in the refrigerator. “You’re safe enough here. You can sit outside on the deck, but don’t go further than that.”

She sniffed. “I should’ve brought the Chromebook up here.”

“There’s no Wi-Fi or cell phone signal. We’re out of range.”

“So exactly what do you think I’m going to do while you’re off on your run?”

“You could make yourself useful and get dinner ready for the pack.” He didn’t mean it, but he knew it would annoy her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Great, so the wolves go on a run and the lowly human stays home to cook their meal? This patriarchal wolf dominance thing is starting to get old.”

“You love the way I dominate you.” He stalked closer to her, backing her into a wall.

Her breath hitched, eyes dilated.

He sank his fingers into her hair and massaged her scalp before he tugged her head back.

“Ow. What are you doing?”

The scent of her arousal made him insinuate his knee between her legs before the thought even entered his brain. “Princess, the moon is full. Leaving you here and going for a run isn’t a pleasure, it’s a necessity. You want to know why?”

Her plump lips parted. “Yeah.”

“Because, baby.” He grazed her ear with his teeth. “If I spend one more second in here with you, I’m going to tear your clothes off and fuck you so long and hard you won’t be able to ride that motorcycle back tomorrow.”

She licked her lips and his eyes tracked the movement with hunger.

“Don’t tempt me like that, princess. You know I’d love to shove my cock in that hot little mouth of yours.”