The Alpha’s Pen Pal (Crescent Lake Book 1)
The Alpha’s Pen Pal: Chapter 29

HAVEN

“Ah ah,” Wesley teased, lifting the bag up and out of my reach. “First, you have to tell Seb he’s a terrible friend for forgetting to buy you flowers.”

I glared at him, then looked at Sebastian, then looked back at Wesley. I held the four bouquets out, and Nolan took them from me with a small laugh, a shake of his head, and a smirk at Wesley.

I stalked closer to Wes, watching his face go from teasing to nervous.

“You know, that’s not really your color, Pal,” I murmured, sliding my hands along his chest on top of his light gray suit jacket.

“Really?” He quirked a brow and looked down at his suit. “I’ve always gotten compliments when—”

“Not the suit color,” I said, shaking my head as I leaned closer. “Green,” I said pointedly, glancing over my shoulder at Seb for a moment.

His brow furrowed, and he looked over at Sebastian and then back down at me. Then the little lightbulb went off over his head, and he chuckled, the sound sending little shivers down my spine all the way to my toes as his arm wrapped around my waist.

“I’m not jealous,” he said in a tight voice, his lips brushing my temple.

“Prove it,” I challenged, turning my head to look into his eyes.

“What?”

“If you’re not jealous, then there isn’t any reason for me to say that to Seb, and you can just give me the gift,” I taunted.

I smoothed his lapels as he stood there, stewing, having an internal debate with himself. I let my hands wander up his chest to his neck, pulling my body closer to his. My fingertips brushed down his neck, tickling a path underneath the fabric of his shirt and teasing his collarbone.

I wasn’t usually one for PDA, but for whatever reason, even the knowledge that his friends and brother were right behind us, watching us, didn’t bother me at all. I could sense their amusement at our banter and my blatant flirting and teasing.

I kept tracing along his collarbone, my eyelids lowering and my lashes fluttering at him. A barely held-back groan escaped him, and he closed his eyes, his hand on me tightening and pulling me closer.

“Well?” I whispered, my lips like butterflies on the skin of his neck. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Fine,” he grumbled, but I could hear the laugh in his voice.

I smiled and kissed his collarbone, then pulled back and held my hands out.

He shook his head and lowered the bag from above his head, his other arm loosening its hold on me to give me space to open the gift. His hand came to rest on my lower back, his little finger drawing small circles and grazing the top of my ass every so often.

I swallowed and took the gift from him, pushing away the distracting thoughts his wandering digit was giving me. Easier said than done, but I tried at least.

I opened the gift with care, not wanting to break or ruin whatever may be inside the bag. It wasn’t very heavy, but there was no way to know for sure if it would be something breakable or not.

I held the tissue paper out, glancing behind me at the other three men, all watching Wesley and me with like we were the most entertaining television show in the world. Nolan was quick on the uptake and grabbed the tissue paper from me so I could reach into the bag and pull out—

“A wolf in a tutu?” I chuckled, looking at the small stuffed gray wolf wearing a purple tutu.

It was soft and fluffy and squishy and perfectly huggable. And completely ridiculous in its little purple costume, complete with ballerina tiara.

Nolan took the bag from me and I looked from the wolf stuffy to Wesley in confusion.

“Why a wolf?” I asked.

He started to reply when I remembered something from one of his letters. I laughed. “Oh! Because you said wolves were your favorite animal when we were kids!”

“Something like that,” he replied with his own laugh. “The tutu—”

“Was my idea!” Reid bragged, interrupting Wesley.

“—is made from leftover fabric from your costume,” Wesley finished. “Maya made it,” he added. “I can’t sew for shit. I tried, but the fabric is so soft and delicate and flimsy, and my hands are so big, and I couldn’t get the thread into that ridiculously tiny hole in the top of the needle, and—”

He frowned at himself and stopped his rambling by pursing his lips. It was funny to see he hadn’t grown out of that nervous habit, although when we were kids, I’d only ever seen him do it in our letters. Seeing him do it verbally as an adult was endearing and entertaining, especially when he got annoyed at himself for it.

“I love it,” I said, grinning up at him.

“You do?” he asked, looking relieved, and I nodded. “Good. I was worried you would think it was cheesy or dumb or—”

“Wesley,” I said, covering his mouth with my finger to get him to stop his rambling before he could even start. “It’s perfect.” He smiled against my finger, and then I grabbed his hand. “Come with me.”

“To do what?” Wes asked as he followed me through the crowd, his hand squeezing mine.

“I want to put it in my dressing room,” I told him as I pulled the stage door open. “For good luck.”

We worked our way around the few dancers still backstage, towards the stairs to the dressing rooms, and then wound our way to the top.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be back here?” Wesley asked, glancing around.

“Peter let you come backstage the other day,” I reminded him.

“Yes, but that was… different.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a stickler for rules,” I teased.

“I’m more worried about you getting in trouble or risking your position.”

“Trust me, after that performance, I think her position is well in hand,” Ramón said as he exited his dressing room. “Ah, you must be Miss Haven’s new paramour, the reason for her recent exquisite dancing,” he teased as he held out his hand for Wesley to shake.

I felt the blood pooling in my cheeks, turning my pale cheeks pink. “He’s not my param—”

“Wesley,” Wesley said, gripping Ramón’s hand. “Haven’s boyf—”

“Friend,” I interrupted, my cheeks heating even more. “He’s my friend,” I repeated.

Wesley shot me a look and squeezed my hand.

“Oh, so you have another male, someone else you’re bringing with you to the gala tonight?” Ramón teased, his brown eyes glinting. “Juggling two men! Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you. I learn something new about you every day!”

“I’m not bringing anyone to the gala,” I mumbled, and I saw Wesley raise his brow out of the corner of my eye.

“Not according to the seating chart they sent us a bit ago,” Ramón replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening up an email. “See?”

I grabbed it from his hand and glanced at the list of tables, and, sure enough, at the same table as Ramón and Imogen was “Haven Wainwright and Guest.”

I looked up from the phone at Ramón’s smug little face and handed it back to him without a word.

“I’ll see you both there.” He winked as he pocketed the phone.

“Two boyfriends, huh?” Wesley asked, a smile in his voice.

“Yes,” I told him. “I have to keep my options open, you know. Can’t put all of my eggs in one basket,” I said as I stepped into my dressing room. “Isn’t that right, Barry?” I added, looking at the wolf stuffy before I set it on the makeup counter.

“Barry?” Wesley asked.

“Short for Baryshnikov,” I said. “He’s a very famous ballet dancer.”

“It’s a female wolf.”

“Why, just because it’s wearing a tutu?”

“I-well-I suppose if you want it to be Barry, that’s fine,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “But back to this whole two boyfriends one party issue—”

“Yes?” I said as I turned around.

“Why didn’t you invite me?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he stepped closer to me, backing me towards the counter.

“I didn’t think—”

“I would want to come?”

“No, that’s not it,” I insisted, shaking my head.

“Then why?” Wes asked, his hands settling on either side of me on the counter, his body so close it was almost touching me, but he intentionally held himself back.

His face lowered towards mine until he was only a hairsbreadth away from me, his warm breath fanning over my face and his scent making me want to melt into him.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” I confessed, my voice barely a whisper.

His lips tugged into a half smile. “Of course I want to come.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said, taking one step into me, closing the distance between our bodies. My breath stuck in my throat as his mouth moved to my ear. “I don’t know a damn thing about ballet,” he muttered, his lips caressing the shell of my ear, “but you were beautiful up there. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.”

“Thank you,” I replied, my voice tight and my eyes closing at the feel of his body pressing against mine.

He placed a kiss right below my ear, and my body shivered, my toes curling against the bottom of my sandals.

“Where is this party?” His nose traced along my jawline, and I had to hold back the little moan threatening to escape my lips.

“Downstairs,” I gasped. “In the outdoor garden between the concert hall and the rehearsal complex.”

Somewhere in the midst of his flirting and seduction and warm touches and gentle kisses, the thought that we should not be doing this in my dressing room crossed my mind. Briefly. For a moment.

And just as soon as it left my mind, and I thought about pushing him further, about rolling my hips against him and rubbing my body along his like a damn cat in heat, he stepped away from me. Stepped back into the center of my dressing room, taking his warmth with him.

“I should go tell the others I’ll be heading back later this evening.” I nodded at him. “I’ll bring your flowers up here and then meet you there?”

I nodded again, and he turned and left, throwing me a quick wink over his shoulder as he walked out the dressing room door.

I waited a bit, composing myself, before heading down to the gala.

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