Page 42 of The Alpha Wolf’s Secret Baby Boy

“Why can’t you see it? Why can’t you feel it?” I frown as I cock my head to the side.

She shakes her head slowly. “Even if we are fated mates, it doesn’t justify everything you’ve done. When are you going to get it through your head that there’s nothing between us?”

She’s about to walk away, but I reach out and grab her wrist, stopping her in her tracks as I press her hand against my chest. I look up from clouded eyes and notice the way her breaths come in hot, shallow pants now, her cheeks flushing with heat.

“If there’s really nothing between us, then tell me you feel nothing right now,” I say as the hum of the mate bond explodes from my pores like it’s an integral part of my DNA structure. It’s what rules my very breathing, and it’s her sweet scent that is my sustenance.

“I—I don’t,” she murmurs as she tries to look away, tries to pry her wrist from my grip, but I’m not letting go.

I will never let go.

“You’re lying.” I stand up, flattening one foot at a time on the floor until I’m at eye level with her, her hand still pressed to my chest. “It’s no excuse, but I’m not ignoring what Goddess has set out for us. I was a fool back then, but I am no fool now.”

Poppy reluctantly turns her face to meet my eyes, and her tears make the specks of gold in her eyes glow.

“Damian, let go of me, p-please,” she whimpers, not taking her eyes off mine.

“No. Never.” I take her hand and lift it to my lips, pressing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, watching her lose the fight as she closes her eyes.

Relief washes over me, but it’s quickly replaced with shock when Poppy’s eyes open again, and she does the unfathomable.

After all her resistance, after all her denial, she crushes her lips to mine, and it’s my undoing.

Ten years’ worth of pent-up desire comes crashing into me, and I don’t think Poppy has realized what she’s done to unleash the beast within.

Chapter 10 - Poppy

I don’t know what comes over me, but I fling my arms around Damian’s neck and tilt my head to deepen the kiss. Starved of this kind of intimacy for a decade, I want to use it as an excuse. But the truth is, it’s only Damian’s lips I want on mine.

I’m throwing caution to the wind, clinging to him as if his breath feeds me life. Not wanting to chastise myself for how good this feels, I try making excuses up in my head.

Maybe I’m doing this to distract him from the fact that one of those bags I packed contains Daniel’s clothes.

Or maybe I’m saying goodbye for the last time, one fleeting moment of passion before my son and I leave for good.

But I’m only lying to myself, and I can’t pretend anymore.

This feels too good.

Almost too good to be true, and reality would be blurred if it weren’t for the placement of his hands on my hips pulling me closer, or the reunion of our tongues after a decade-long drought. Every inch of my body is ignited just from the kiss, our tongues dancing in perfect synchrony, his breath hot in my mouth, tasting sweet and delectable.

I’d almost forgotten how good this was. Ten years of stifled passion comes crashing into the kiss to make it even better than it used to be. There’s a dull ache on my neck where he’d bitten me last night, the gentle throb echoing the motion of our kisses.

It only takes a couple of seconds for me to forget the fight I’ve been putting up since he kidnapped me to Cedar Valley, for my walls to completely crumble as if none of the anger matters. And when I break the kiss to catch my breath, at the sight of him, hair disheveled, lips swollen and moist with my saliva, the floodgates of my existence open up.

Meeting his heady blue eyes that have turned nearly jet-black, save for the ring of blue around the black orbs, my heart skips a beat, pulse racing. His mark on my neck throbs in a way that sends awareness down to my core, and despite the impossible heat on every inch of my body, the pendant on my neck feels hot against my skin, like the metal just bloomed with the heat I’m feeling. Like a gentle reassurance that maybe, just maybe, it’s not the worst thing if I gave in to this intense desire.

Damian’s breath comes out in hot pants, his chest heaving with so much ferocity that it strains the buttons on his shirt.

“Poppy…” he breathes, still holding on to my hips, refusing to let go as he keeps me pressed to his manhood.

My fingers tingle with need, and it’s why I grab fistfuls of his shirt, holding on for stability, for the sake of my sanity.

Because truthfully, this is insane.

“What are we doing?” he asks, breathlessly voicing the question running through my own mind.

I can hardly form a coherent thought, let alone a response, when he begins to smooth his palms on my sides.