Hooking Him (How to Catch an Alpha #3)(38)

“Do you?”

“Oh yeah.” His lips press to mine, and I move my hands up to his shoulders and then freeze when his cell rings. “Shit,” he groans, and my stomach sinks. “While I get that, why don’t you go change?”

I nod, and he kisses the tip of my nose, then lets me go. I leave the kitchen and hear him answer the phone behind me with a brisk “Yeah,” but I don’t stick around to hear what else he says. I head down the hallway to his room and go in, closing the door behind me. I change into my sleep pants and T-shirt, then fold the clothes I had on and put them back into my bag. Once I’m done, I place the bag on the floor and go to the door. Since he’s still on the phone, I give him some time to finish his call. I grab my cell from my purse and open my texts. I see that not only has Lance messaged, but so have my dad and Lucy.

I fight back a groan of frustration when I see Lance has sent me his flight itinerary for the upcoming weekend, along with the information for the hotel where he’s staying. I send him a text, asking him to please not come, and then open the message from my dad. I take a seat on the end of Calvin’s bed as I read it.

We’ve put up with this foolishness long enough, Anna. It’s time for you to come home. Call me.

I text him back with shaking fingers.

I’m not a child having a tantrum, and I am home. I wish you could be happy for me and support me.

My thumb hovers over the send button for a moment before I press it. Whatever my parents’ deal is, I no longer care. Actually, I should have stopped caring a long time ago. When I open Lucy’s message, I frown, because at first it appears to be a dark, grainy image. Then my eyes focus, and I see a mostly naked Lance asleep in her bed. And I know it’s her bed, because I helped her pick out the spiral-print comforter that’s covering him from the waist down. I frown, wondering why she’d send me the photo, and then a memory hits me—one of Lucy doing the same thing when she was dating a guy and found out he had a longtime girlfriend.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, wondering how long they’ve been sleeping together.

“What happened?” My head flies up, and I shake it as Calvin comes toward me and takes my cell from my grasp. “Who is that?”

“Lance.” He frowns at me, then looks back at the photo. “I should say, that’s Lance in my friend Lucy’s bed. I think that photo is her way of letting me know they’re sleeping together.” He eyes me warily, and I grin. “Isn’t that great news?”

“Great news?” he asks, sounding confused. “I’m not sure it’s great news that the people you considered friends back in Chicago are all assholes.”

“I am.” I take my cell from him and then hold down my finger on the image to save it. “This means whatever reason he had for doing what he’s been doing is gone.” I open the text from him and send the photo, along with a message that says simply, Leave me alone.

“Did you just send him that photo?”

“Yep.” I look up and grin, then frown when I see the look on his face.

“Babe.”

“What?”

His eyes roam my face; then he shakes his head. “Never mind. We’ll deal with it when it happens.”

“Deal with what?”

“Nothing,” he says with a sigh. “Now, what do you want to eat? I’m gonna order our food.”

“Kung pao shrimp and fried rice,” I say. Then I ask, “What do you mean, ‘deal with it when it happens’?”

“I don’t have the energy to explain all that right now.”

“Explain what?”

He leans into me, forcing me back until I’m lying on the bed and he’s looming over me. “Give this to me, please,” he pleads.

“What?” I breathe, knowing I’d give him pretty much anything as his weight settles over me and his eyes bore into mine.

“Right now . . .” He brushes his lips over mine. “I just want to order food, get into bed, and watch a movie with you,” he says, his voice sounding rough and tired.

“Okay,” I agree, and he runs his nose across mine, then kisses me softly. When he leans back, I’m a little disappointed to lose his warmth, but I hide it as I sit up and wipe my hands down the tops of my thighs. I watch him run his fingers through his hair, a move that seems somewhat agitated, and I bite my lip before asking, “Was everything okay on the phone?”

“Yeah, just my partner letting me know he didn’t find anything new with our case and is heading home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s the way it goes sometimes.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, then calls in an order for our food. When he’s done, he tosses it on the bed, then reaches behind his head, catching me off guard as he takes off his shirt. He’s not overly muscular, like he’s spent too much time at the gym. He’s sculpted like a piece of ancient warrior art. When he unbuttons his jeans, I hold my breath, and I must make a noise, because his eyes come to me and he grins as he kicks them off, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxers that are molded to his thighs and other parts.

“What movie do you want to watch?” he asks, going to the dresser and pulling out a pair of flannel pants he puts on quickly.

“Umm.” I try to think of one movie out of the thousands I’ve seen, but it’s difficult to think about anything with his chest and abs visible and just feet away.