Page 118 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Fuck.

Her hands fist in my hair, yanking me closer when I start to pull away.

The kiss deepens. Her back arches off the wall, her breasts pressing against my chest, and a growl tears out of my throat as my senses crash over me like a bucket of ice water.

What the fuck am I doing?

I stagger back, panting, and my hands drop from the wall. My body puts distance between us. Every wall I've ever built slams back into place so fast it leaves me dizzy.

Ivy is panting, too.

Her lips are swollen from the kiss. Even without proper light, I see her chest heaving, the rapid flutter of her pulse in her throat, the slightly dazed expression on her flushed face as she stares at me with eyes that are bright even in the darkness.

I did that.

I did that to her and I want to do it again, and that's exactly why I need to get the fuck away from her right now before I do something we'll both regret in the morning.

"Ivy Byrne," she says, grinning.

I stare at her.

The words don't compute. My brain is still trying to process the kiss, the taste of her, the way she pulled me closer instead of pushing me away. Now she's introducing herself like we just met at a fucking cocktail party and I have no idea how to respond.

"What?" I manage to choke.

"And what's your name?" she asks.

She's still grinning. That fierce little grin that makes her look like she just won a battle I didn't even know we were fighting.

My hands hang uselessly at my sides because I don't know what to do with them. Don't know what to do with any of this. I've faced down killers and walked away. Taken lives of my own, too. I've survived things that would break normal people.

But this small, fierce omega and her insane suggestion that we can just... start over...

"Valek," I mutter. "Valek Carter."

Her grin widens.

She slips past me.

Her shoulder brushes mine as she moves. It's a deliberate touch, a small point of contact that burns. I wish it would brand me. The door opens. Light spills in from the hallway, harsh and bright after the darkness of my room.

And then she's gone.

She won.

Whatever that was, she won.

And she didn't even need a fire extinguisher.

Chapter 23

Ivy

My lips are still buzzing when I step back into the living room.

A what the fuck did I just do kind of buzzing that makes me want to press my fingers to my mouth and check if the evidence is as obvious as it feels.

The pack is scattered around the room like debris after a storm. Wraith's sprawled across the couch, one massive forearm draped over his face, running on fumes. Thane hovers near the window. Whiskey's banging around in the kitchen for snacks like he always does when he's stressed.