Novels by Alison

The heavy oak door of the executive suite clicked shut behind Fabien Collins, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in its wake.Cassian didn't move immediately. He remained standing near the edge of the mahogany desk, his hands resting casually inside his trouser pockets, his dark eyes fixed on Christopher with a lazy, predatory amusement. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the gloomy city fog pressed against the glass, casting a dull, grey wash across the room.Christopher stood behind his desk, every muscle in his frame locked in a desperate bid for composure. His hands were braced against the polished wood, his knuckles white. Deep in his chest, his heart hammered a ragged rhythm against his ribs. The lingering scent of Cassian’s Alpha pheromones—smokey cedarwood and sharp ozone—hung thick in the air, stirring a dark, humiliating heat in Christopher’s lower stomach. His secondary opening gave another slow, involuntary clench against his briefs, wet and demanding."Now," Cassian

“Mr. Ashford, I tried to tell him you were in a private meeting—!" Bill’s panicked voice echoed from the hallway.The door swung fully open, and an imposing, silver-haired figure stepped directly into the suite.Fabien Collins.Cassian’s father stood in the doorway. Fabien was in his early sixties, towering and immaculate in a bespoke three-piece pinstripe suit. He possessed the same sharp, striking facial structure as Cassian, with cold, calculating dark eyes that commanded instant authority in any corporate boardroom.In an instant, the romantic, heavy atmosphere in the room shattered.Christopher reacted instantly. He shoved Cassian back with a burst of force born of sheer survival instinct, stepping back behind his mahogany desk. He smoothed down his vest with two quick sweeps of his hands and adjusted his posture into an unyielding, rigid stance, though his face remained noticeably flushed and his chest rose and fell in heavy, controlled increments.Cassian didn't look flustered

Christopher shoved through the heavy double doors of his private executive suite on the thirty-fifth floor and locked them behind him with a sharp twist of the deadbolt.He didn't make it to his leather chair. He slammed his palms down flat onto the polished mahogany desk, his head hanging low between his broad shoulders, gasping for air.His suit trousers felt suffocatingly tight. His cock was rock hard, throbbing with a dull, punishing pressure against his underwear, and lower down, between his thighs, his secondary opening was leaking slick—hot, clear, and humiliatingly wet against his skin. The image of Cassian buried deep in that male Omega on the desk burned behind his eyelids every time he blinked. The wet sounds, the shameless moaning, the heavy roll of Cassian's hips—it had triggered a violent, involuntary chain reaction inside his newly forming Omega anatomy.Seven days.Christopher gritted his teeth, his jaw working as he fought to regain control of his breathing. He opene

Bill’s voice was still in Christopher’s head when he stepped off the elevator on the thirty-second floor.“Conin Enterprise. I’ve been trying to get a foot in the door for two years. They don’t take meetings. They don’t return calls. But I remember Alpha Collins mentioning them once. Said he did work for someone over there. If anyone can get us a conversation, it’s him.”Christopher had almost ignored it. Almost. Then the numbers on the acquisition file had sat on his desk all morning like a dare. Seven days until heat. The low ache in his pelvis had been quieter since the night with the toys, but it was still there, a dull reminder every time he shifted in his chair. He needed the deal more than he needed to avoid Cassian Collins.He didn’t call ahead. He just went.Cassian’s wing occupied half the floor. Clean hallway, dark carpet, frosted

Vanessa texted at 6:42 p.m.“I’m downstairs babe. I have missed you.”Christopher unlocked the private elevator without answering. He was already in black sweatpants and a plain T-shirt, hair still damp from the shower he had taken after work. The penthouse smelled like the citrus cleaner the housekeeper used on Thursdays.He heard the elevator doors open. Vanessa walked in like she belonged there—heels clicking on the marble, short black dress, hair down. She dropped her bag by the couch and came straight to him. Her arms went around his neck before he could say anything. She pressed her face into his shoulder and held on.“I really missed you,” she said against his shirt. Her voice was soft but clear. “You’ve been hard to get a hold of. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”Christopher rested one hand

Noah’s brain took a full second to catch up with what his eyes were seeing.Christopher was on the couch, pants shoved down around one ankle, one leg still hooked over the armrest. His cock lay soft against his stomach, a thin smear of come across the skin. In his right hand he held a thick, shiny dildo, half-pulled out. A smaller vibrator buzzed weakly in his left. Slick had run down onto the leather between his legs. The outer folds of his secondary opening looked swollen and wet even from across the room. Noah couldn’t see inside—just the messy, obvious evidence of what Christopher had been doing.Noah’s first clear thought was simple: Shit.His second was worse. Heat punched low in his gut before he could stop it. His cock twitched against the soft fabric of his sleep pants. He felt his face go hot. He was a doctor. He had seen every kind of body in every kind of state. This shou