Free Rogue Alpha (Alpha 7) by Carole Mortimer Page A

“I don’t—” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I wanted to—I’m sorry?”
    Seth smiled grimly as he heard the question in her apology. Hell, he had never come like that in his life before. Never felt as if he would literally cease breathing if Diana stopped, at the same time that he so desperately wanted, needed to come. And when he had… Jesus. The pleasure had been so intense, he was sure his heart had stopped beating for a few seconds. His cum had kept pumping and pumping in burning waves, and Diana had sucked him dry, until she had drunk down every last drop.
    What the fucking hell was that?
    What— He froze as he heard a noise outside. Only the faintest rustle of sound, but enough to warn him they were no longer alone. And he was standing here in the kitchen half-naked, cock still at half-mast, a woman kneeling at his feet and her lips slick with his cum.
    “Seth?”
    He hated the underlying fear he could hear in Diana’s voice as evidence she had obviously heard that rustling noise outside too. Fucking hated it.
    As he’d hated her fear last night when she thought he was going to physically retaliate for her having questioned his motives regarding the alcohol they had both consumed. If Moore had still been alive, Seth would have taken great pleasure in killing the other man. Slowly. For ever causing this woman a moment’s pain or fear.
    “Seth, there’s someone—”
    “I know.” He stepped aside and quickly began pulling his boxers and jeans back on before grabbing his gun.
    Just in time, as the back door swung open and a man stood silhouetted in the doorway.
    Diana screamed.

Chapter 6
    “You might have told me,” Diana hissed, eyes snapping with accusation as she glared across the kitchen at a totally relaxed Seth.
    He gave a shrug as he picked up and returned the gun to the waistband at the back of his fastened jeans. “It doesn’t work that way.”
    “Don’t you mean you don’t work that way?” She eyed him impatiently. “Your friend Jonas terrified the life out of me when he came bursting into the kitchen that way.”
    “For one thing, despite his size, he doesn’t burst anywhere,” Seth said testily. “For another,” his voice hardened, “we either do this my way, or we don’t do it at all.”
    “You are such an arrogant bastard,” she muttered agitatedly.
    “I’ve never made a pretense of being anything else.”
    No, he hadn’t. Arrogant. Bossy. Dangerous. They were all adjectives that fit this man perfectly.
    “You still should have told me we weren’t on our own in Paris,” she maintained stubbornly.
    “Why?”
    Diana knew from Seth’s puzzled expression that he seriously had no idea what her problem was. She added infuriating to that list of adjectives.
    “You do both realize I’m still here?” the man called Jonas drawled as he leaned back against a kitchen unit waiting for the pot of coffee to finish percolating. “That’s quite a pair of lungs you have there, Mrs. Moore.”
    “Diana,” she answered him distractedly, still shaken by the fact that, instead of the fight for their lives she had been expecting, Seth and the bronzed giant who had walked into the kitchen minutes ago had actually grinned at each other as they shook hands and then thumped each other on the back in greeting.
    Seth had introduced the other man to her as Jonas Grayfeather. A Native American, from the way he looked and his accent, although she would guess from the blue of his eyes he wasn’t completely Native American. He was breathtakingly handsome, his skin a deep red-bronze color, his shoulder-length hair blue black. His face looked as if it had been carved from stone: high forehead, sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, sculpted lips, and his eyes were that deep blue of fine sapphires.
    He also stood at least six inches over six feet tall. His shoulders and chest were massive, his body lean and honed in faded jeans and a black T-shirt. A black leather duster