The Alpha’s Desire 1(15)

 

 

 

I stood there staring into space until a light knock on my front door roused me. Trembles turned to quivers with the realization that this savior, tonight’s, a man not beast, stood waiting for me at my door.

 

 

 

“Pizza delivery,” he stated with a grin as he held up the pizza like a trophy.

 

 

 

“That was fast,” I congratulated him.

 

 

 

“Ah, I know the guy. Well, also, he owes me a few favors, and tonight I asked him to start paying up.”

 

 

 

“Well, smells good. Come on in,” I gestured him toward my living room. “Make yourself comfortable in there, and I’ll grab some plates and napkins.”

 

 

 

“Great.”

 

 

 

I thought the same as I watched his ass walk away from me. I’d never tire of that view. That thing was tight in two perfectly rounded globes. If I so much as got to run my hands over them tonight, I’d call this my best date ever. I’d never had a real relationship, but I’d had my limited-by-choice share of awful dates. Never had one of those men had an ass even close to his. You couldn’t just judge a guy by his backside, but the view didn’t hurt.

 

 

 

“You want a beer?” I croaked.

 

 

 

“Sure. Whatever you got. I’m not picky. Never met a beer I couldn’t get down,” he laughed. “I may have choked a little, but I’ve gotten it down.”

 

 

 

“I don’t have anything fancy, an amber ale,” I said as I shrugged and handed him the bottle.

 

 

 

As he opened the box and put a piece on each of the two paper plates I’d set out, he asked, “So what do you do for a living, Christina?”

 

 

 

“Oh, I’m just a secretary,” I offered, then bit into my pizza to avoid further depiction.

 

 

 

“There is no such thing as just an anything, my father always said. He always told me that every job needs doing, so the servant and the rich businessman have equal value. Of course, he was a servant—“ he suddenly left off, as if he’d said too much.

 

 

 

“So, your father is gone then?” I inquired with a soft voice

 

 

 

“For some years now,” he answered.

 

 

 

“Mine, too. Just a few years now, but I lost my mother when I was only eleven. I know the pain, but we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I can see where you got your intelligence, though. I’m still just blown away by your lyrics, the emotional depth, the real compassion for the plights of your fellow man, the wisdom men your age don’t typically possess. My own grandfather never had such wise words to impart as one of your songs did tonight... Sorry, I’m rambling.”

 

 

 

“No, I’m enjoying your insights. I’m truly touched by how much you enjoyed my songs. Most people tend to not get me. They like the band, the style of music, but I’ve been told quite a few times to lighten up on the lyrics. Apparently I depress people and shit. Some smartass member of the band once gave me a cartoon that his sister drew of a guy slicing his wrists with the caption of having heard one to many Lex Roberts’ songs. They found it wildly amusing.”

 

 

 

“Seriously? I find it sick. I can’t imagine anyone complaining about what you write, what you do. In fact, I’d say I felt like you more got me, like at times you spoke just to me, words I needed to hear so desperately. Anyway, it’s just that, as I said, each song made me think,” I mumbled before taking a big bite of my pizza to shut myself up.

 

 

 

“Thank you. That means a lot to me. To know I had an impact on you, that you understand the messages I feel compelled to put out there, well... oddly, I don’t have the words at the moment to describe what I’m feeling. Sorry. Doesn’t happen often. I told you that you were a distraction. Anyway, tell me more about yourself. What do you like to do outside of the obviously necessary evil of your job?”

 

 

 

I chewed, then swallowed hard. Taking a sip of beer first, I grew conscious that his eyes never left my face. I had a good rack, a perk of being full-figured, but he looked at my face, right into my eyes as if searching for my soul. Touched, I shocked myself when the following words flowed out of my mouth like an erupting volcano that had been dormant for centuries.

 

 

 

“Well, I love to read. I’m a real bookworm. I’ll read any book I can get my hands on. The librarian here in town knows me on a first name basis. But honestly, my true passion is writing. I’ve done it for years, secretly that is…”