The Alpha’s Pen Pal (Crescent Lake Book 1)
The Alpha’s Pen Pal: Chapter 33

HAVEN

As much as I hated giving in to Wesley’s bossy requests, my body couldn’t help but listen to him when he told me to rest. I wanted to protest, to fight back against his stupid request.

But the exhaustion I still felt from the two weekends of performances and rehearsals in between finally caught up to me, and before I knew it, I was snoozing in the front seat of his truck, my legs curled up under me and my hand in his.

When I opened my eyes again, we were no longer in the mountains surrounded by redwoods. I sat up straighter, blinking, disoriented, as I took in our surroundings.

Rolling hills. Small, colorful houses. Beautiful cypress trees I had only ever seen pictures of when researching California when we wrote to each other as kids.

And beyond it all, white sand and the blue ocean stretched out as far as I could see, until it connected with the sky and you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

The beach. He had brought me to the beach.

I barely held in my squeal of excitement and leaned closer to the window to get a better look, letting go of Wesley’s hand.

“So, is this a good surprise?” Wes asked as I gaped out the window, pressing my nose to the glass to look towards the long pier extending out over the water.

“Good? Wes, this is amazing! It’s beautiful, and perfect, and—” I shook my head and glanced at him.

His focus was on the road, but he had the biggest grin on his face, and his eyes kept sliding over to me, watching me and taking in my reaction as best he could while driving.

“Thank you,” I told him, leaning over the armrest to kiss his cheek.

I sat back in my seat and looked back out my window, absorbing it all and committing all of it to memory. The view, the sounds, the smells, and Wesley.

He kept spoiling me. The Nutcracker tickets back when we were kids. The adoption, even though it didn’t work out. Jack and Shirley. Seeing all of my ballet performances. The flowers. The bracelet.

But he didn’t do it as bribery. He did it because he could.

He gave and gave and gave, and I had nothing to give back to him except my heart. And while I wasn’t sure I was ready to give it to him fully, he was slowly getting it, piece by piece, with every little thing he did for me and with every little thing I learned about him.

He pulled off the highway and then turned onto a narrow, shaded road, following the signs that read “campgrounds” until we reached a small guardhouse. The man inside poked his head out and, after seeing Wesley in the driver’s seat, smiled and waved us through.

“Don’t we have to pay?” I asked.

“I called ahead to let them know we were coming while you were asleep,” he said. “And my family owns the campgrounds,” he added, mumbling.

I forced myself to not roll my eyes at that comment and instead focused out of the window, looking at the trees and trying to see through them to the beach.

He parked, and we both got out, me stretching my legs while he rummaged around in his back seat, pulling out what I could only guess was camping gear.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to help you,” I said. “I literally have no idea how to do any of this,” I reminded him, gesturing around at the campgrounds.

“Lucky for you, I’m used to setting it all up by myself. Our dads made sure we all could by the time we were preteens.”

He lowered the tailgate on his truck and patted it, gesturing for me to have a seat while he set everything up.

“I somehow pictured you as an RV or trailer camping type of family,” I confessed as I hopped up.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Nope,” he said with a shrug and a kiss to my nose. “My dad wanted us to learn survival skills, especially because of where we live. Plus, we just really like being outdoors. Being one with nature.”

I nodded and sat quietly while he worked, watching him with my legs swinging over the edge of the tailgate. The way his clothing stretched and strained against the muscles of his body while he set up the tent had my mind spiraling with delicious, dirty thoughts.

More than once, I found myself almost drooling when he bent down, and his jeans hugged his ass and thighs until I finally had to pull my phone out of my pocket to distract myself from ogling him.

I swear, though, somehow he knew exactly what I was thinking about, exactly what he was doing to me, because I kept catching him glancing at me with a self-satisfied glint in his eye every time.

He had the tent up faster than I expected and wiped his hands on his jeans as he walked over to me. I set my phone down, and on instinct, my legs parted so he could stand between them.

I wanted him to put his hands on me, to slide them up my bare thighs to my hips, but he put them on either side of me on the tailgate instead, leaning down to say, “Are you ready?” in a low voice.

“Ready for what?” I breathed back, scooting forward until I was right on the edge of the gate, my arms wrapping around his middle.

“To go to the beach.” He chuckled as I tilted my head up to look at him, my chin resting on his chest and my hair tumbling down my back with the movement.

I smiled at him, but my mouth froze when it was halfway to a full grin. “Um, Wes?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t have a swimsuit. Or anything else, like extra clothes or—”

He just laughed again. “There are stores that sell swimsuits near the beach,” he said. “We’ll grab a quick lunch, then I’ll buy us some swimsuits and whatever else we need before we head down to the water.”

I bit back my refusal. I didn’t want him to spend that much money on me, but I knew it was futile to argue with him about it. He wouldn’t take my money, and he wouldn’t listen to reason if I told him he didn’t need to do any of that. That just being here with him was enough.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay?” Wes asked, and I nodded. “Just like that? No fighting? No arguing?” I shook my head. “Hold on, let me document this momentous occasion—the day Haven Kenway didn’t try to argue about me doing something nice for her.”

“Oh my god, stop it!” I groaned, shoving him away from me so I could hop out of the truck bed. “You’re ridiculous,” I added, laughing and shaking my head.

He slammed the tailgate back into place, took my hand, and led me towards a small path between the trees. Once out the other side and around a few corners, we were on a street lined with restaurants and shops and bustling with people in the afternoon sunlight.

“Are hamburgers all right for lunch?” Wesley asked. “There’s a great little hamburger stand over there,” he said, gesturing down one end of the street. “Then I figured we could do fish and chips or clam chowder at my favorite restaurant on the pier for dinner?”

“That sounds perfect,” I smiled, and he led the way towards the stand he had mentioned.

We ordered and ate quickly, sitting on a bench, chatting and people-watching as we finished our meal. Then we made our way into the closest shop to purchase what we needed for the rest of the day.

Wes pulled me to his side and kissed my temple. “Get whatever you want or need. Don’t worry about the cost.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t respond, and he let me go so I could peruse the racks of swimsuits.

I took my time, searching through the assortment of swimsuits, searching for the few options that fit my parameters—a strapless swimsuit, either a one-piece or two-piece, to reduce potential tan lines showing in costumes, and no super skimpy bottoms held together by two strings or with no fabric covering my butt. I didn’t even know thong swimsuits were “on trend” again, as Maya would say.

I gathered up my meager choices and went into the dressing room to try them on.

With each suit I tried, I felt my frustration growing. One was too big. One made me look like a little kid. One had bottoms that cut into my legs too tight.

Tears pricked my eyes as I tried on the last one: a yellow floral bandeau top that tied between the boobs, with a small triangle cutout between the knot and the band, and regular bikini bottoms with a matching tie on each hip.

I bit back my groan as I looked in the mirror. And then I put my hands on my hips and shook my head, looking at the floor.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I so worried about how I looked in a bikini? Why was I comparing myself to those tall, leggy, busty women in Wesley’s hometown when I was the one who was here with him? The one he had been giving all his attention to the last few weeks?

“You all right, Twinkle Toes?” Wes murmured through the fitting room curtain.

“Yeah,” I breathed, wiping the frustrated tears away. “I just can’t replace a swimsuit that looks good,” I muttered.

“Can I see?” he asked with a teensy bit of hesitation.

“I—” I turned, and his hand was already on the curtain, ready to pull it aside but still waiting for my permission. “Sure,” I whispered.

He pulled the curtain aside, just enough to peek in, and within a second, he was in the fitting room with me and shut the curtain tight as if he hadn’t just opened it.

Before I could react to him, my back was against the wall, a gasp escaping me from the shock of the cold on my bare lower back. Wes had me caged between his arms, his body pressing up against mine, his eyes dark and his breathing heavy as he looked down at my swimsuit-clad chest.

“Fucking hell, Haven,” he growled, his hand moving to my neck, his thumb lifting my chin. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“No?” I squeaked.

“Are you sure? Because I swear to the—” He inhaled a long, slow, deep intake of breath, and then started again. “I swear, if you go outside in that, I’m going to have to rip out the eyes of every other man on the beach.”

His thumb rubbed along my jawline the entire time he spoke, and the possessiveness in his voice and actions sent me back down inside that dizzying vortex of lust-filled imaginings. It didn’t even faze me he’d threatened something so bloody and violent. My traitorous body didn’t care, and my hips moved on their own, pressing forward and up so my body rubbed against his front.

The hardening bulge I felt there told me his thoughts were just as dirty and lusty as mine, and the returning press of his hips did nothing to temper the wild inferno racing through my veins. I let out a needy whine, and my cheeks heated at the pathetic sound.

This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the type to be so wanton, so bold. Even with Lennox, it had always been him to initiate any intimacy. I had never been this forward, this confident in my sexual desires.

Then again, Lennox never made me feel the way Wesley did. Like I was beautiful, treasured, and special. Like I was someone who mattered.

“You can’t wear this one,” Wesley stated as if he had the last word.

“But it’s the only one that fits.” I pouted, bringing my hands up to his chest.

He lifted his eyes back to meet mine, and they were as black as coal, and filled with the heat of a thousand suns. I swallowed against the intensity of it all, trying to form coherent thoughts and words but replaceing myself still lost within the sensory flood caused by his body, his touch, and the scent of his cologne.

“And it’s going to drive me crazy knowing other men are seeing you in it.”

I inhaled, rubbing my hands on his solid chest. “I don’t care if they look at me. I’m not wearing it for them. I’m wearing it for you. The only one I want looking at me is you.”

He clenched his teeth and lowered his forehead to mine, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He seemed to have an internal battle with himself, a muscle in his jaw ticking as I waited for him to speak again.

“Fine,” he said through his teeth. “Fine, but if anyone even looks at you the wrong way—”

“You’ll rip their eyes out, I know,” I teased.

His dark chuckle sent a thrill all the way down to my toes, and then he pressed his lips to mine in a fierce, soul-claiming kiss, his thumb pressing almost too hard into my throat. His other hand moved to my hip and slid up my exposed stomach, and my breath caught in my throat as his touch drew nearer to my breasts before the snap of the tag being ripped from the suit made me jump and break away from his lips.

“Cover up and grab whatever else you need,” he grumbled, stepping back from me and giving my entire body one more long, lingering look. “I’ll meet you at the register,” he added before turning and cracking his neck and walking out of the fitting room.