Page 31 of Alpha's Rejected Warrior
The backs of his knees hit the bed. He sits.
And then he’s looking up at me.
I stand over him, half-naked — every scar and hard line of muscle on display — and this human tips his chin up with an expression that holds zero fear. I could snap his neck with one hand. One move and I could tear his throat out before he draws another breath. He knows this. He’s seen what I am.
Yet, he looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world worth seeing.
I straddle his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips, and the moment my center presses against thehard length of him through what remains of our clothes, every tactical thought in my head dissolves. We both exhale at the same time, a sharp, twin release of breath, and I roll my hips before I can think about it.
Ethan groans. Low and rough, the sound vibrating from his chest into mine, and the sensation rockets straight through my core.
His palms skim the plane of my stomach, tracing the ridges of muscle there with a reverence that makes the hardened space behind my sternum split. When he finally cups my breasts, the warmth of his palms against my bare skin draws a shudder through my body. His fingers knead gently at first, learning the weight of them, the shape, and I watch his jade-green eyes darken as he takes in every reaction that flickers across my face.
Then his thumbs sweep across both nipples with a devastating precision that no human should possess, circling the hardened peaks in slow, deliberate strokes that steal my breath and stutter the rhythm of my hips against him. His mouth replaces his thumb, his tongue circling one peaked nipple before he suckles it, gently at first, testing. I gasp and grind against him harder, and he responds by suckling with an intensity that makes my vision blur. My fingers twist into his hair, holding him exactly where he is.
Somewhere beneath the roar of sensation, my wolf stirs. She’s not growling or clawing for control. She’s just...there, focused on Ethan with a singular, burning attention that has nothing to do with assessment and everything to do with recognition.
I file that away, burying it deep.
His lips move to my other breast, and his tongue does something wicked that makes my back arch and a moan slip past my defenses before I can cage it.
His fingers trickle down my ribs, counting each one like he’s mapping terrain. Every touch is deliberate, as if he wants to store each connection in that eidetic memory of his. The thought that Ethan Langley will remember exactly how I sound, how I move, how my skin responds to his hands long after this moment ends threatens the walls I’ve spent years building.
I pull his mouth back to mine, kissing him hard enough to leave a bruise. He matches my intensity without flinching, one hand sliding to the small of my back to press me tighter against him while the other traces the waistband of my pants with maddening patience.
“Stop thinking so much.” His lips move against mine.
I bite his lower lip. “Stop reading me.”
A breathless laugh. “Can’t. You’re the most interesting thing I’ve ever studied.”
Studied.Like I’m a puzzle he intends to solve once he’s gathered all the pieces. His voice against my lips, with his hands on my bare skin and his cock straining against me through layers of fabric, makes the last thread of my restraint fray.
I reach between us and find the lacing of his trousers. My fingers work the cord with the same efficiency I use on armor straps, and Ethan sucks in a breath when I tug the fabric loose and slide my hand inside.
He’s hard. Hot. The silk-over-steel length of him against my palm sends a rush of heat between my thighs as I wrap my fingers around his cock and stroke.
Ethan’s hips begin to jerk. His forehead drops to my shoulder, and his breath is hot and ragged against my skin, each exhale a damp bloom of heat that makes my nipples harden. I stroke him again, my hand firm, purposeful. I twist my wrist at the top the way instinct dictates, and satisfaction floods through me when he shudders. His hands clamp down on my hips, hisfingers digging into my muscle, and he whispers a quiet “fuck” into my neck that I absorb more than hear.
Good.I want him undone. I want to be the one that takes him apart.
But Ethan recovers faster than I expected. His hand slides down my stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my pants, and when he finds how wet I am, my teeth sink into my lower lip hard enough to taste copper.
He doesn’t rush. Of course he doesn’t. He explores with two fingers, parting my folds with a gentle deliberation that borders on cruel, circling my clit with slow, teasing pressure. He’s adjusting, learning what makes my breath falter, what makes my thighs squeeze against his hips, filing it all away in that damnably perfect memory.
I don’t beg. I have never begged for anything in my life — and I won’t start now.
But my body betrays me. My hips rock against his hand, chasing the pressure of his fingers. My grip tightens on his cock, matching the rhythm he sets stroking my clit. And the sounds that slip out of me — soft, broken things I don’t recognize as my own voice — fill the space between us like confessions I never authorized.
“I want you,” I say.
We separate, just long enough to finish undressing. It’s a matter of necessity rather than choice.
I roll off his lap and yank at my boot laces, cursing when one tangles into a knot. Ethan shoves his trousers down and gets caught in one leg, nearly pitching himself sideways off the bed. I laugh. He grins, breathless and flushed, his hair a wreck. The graceless reality of this — the stumbling and kicking and muttered swearing — makes it more genuine.
I push him backward with both of my palms held flat against his chest. He falls onto the mattress without resistance, lookingup at me with those jade eyes darkened with want. I swing my leg over his lap and straddle him again. Bare skin against bare skin, there’s nothing between us now, and the slick heat of my center pressing against his length pulls a shaking breath from both of us.
I reach down, wrap my fingers around his cock, and position him at my entrance.
