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“I like that.” I nod, getting into the hook of the story. “It sounds slightly familiar, but I like it.”
“The best inspiration comes from real life,” she says before her finger moves to the next bubble. “She thinks he’s going to force himself on her, but when he takes her home, he gives her a room and a chance to clean up and eat. She meets the other Alphas in his pack.”
“Are any of them a handsome football player?” I ask, squeezing her close to me.
“Does a movie star work?” she asks instead.
I make a so-so gesture with my hand, and she laughs.
“Where I’m stuck is right here. After the first night, she steals a necklace from him that used to belong to his dead mother. She escapes, but he catches her. And…” She points to the empty bubble right underneath. “That’s where I’m stuck. I need some sort of conflict and then a resolution, but I’m not sure quite where to go. Everything I’ve tried doesn’t feel right. I had a whole scene where he takes her to the police station but never brings her inside, and that didn’t work at all. It made him too preachy.”
“What about sex?” I offer, because honestly, now that the embarrassment I was feeling about my reading ability has faded, my rut instinct has flared up and it’s all I can think about again.
“What about sex?” Riley answers calmly, but there’s a tremble flowing through her body.
“What if he catches her, and they have this big heated argument that ends up with him kissing her, and then they fuck like rabbits?”
She pauses. “Do I have to use the phrasefuck like rabbits?”
I kiss her temple, and then move lower, pressing kisses on her cheekbone, her jaw, and her neck. She shivers, and I resist the urge to run my teeth along her pulse point or bite down.
“I’ll allow you to use your creative instinct on that one.” I hook a finger into the neckband of her shirt, lowering it just enough that I can kiss her collarbone. When she gasps, I nip it and lick at the sensitive skin.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, her voice throaty. I can already smell her arousal, and it’s making me crazy.
I roll on top of her, and she inhales sharply, her eyes darkening. “I’m getting you ready so we can fuck like rabbits.”
SEVENTEEN
—
R I L E Y
My heart is beatinga million miles per hour as I stare into Fox’s wild eyes. He brackets me with his arms, his thick cock rubbing against my thigh in a slow rhythm. Every time it brushes against me, even through the fabric of my pants, I shudder with anticipation. My blood pounds in my ears, and every bit of my skin is on high alert.
I need to be touched.
I need tofuck like rabbits.
The muscle in his jaw tenses just before he leans down and bites the hollow between my neck and shoulder, as if he is claiming me, but he knows not to do it for real. I shiver and sigh as his teeth scrape against my skin, and though I don’t want him to claim me, I think that deep down, I need it.
“Riley,” he growls, my name reverberating in his chest. I arch against him, wanting to feel that growl everywhere on my body.
“I bet you’re already wet for me,” he says as he slides his large hand beneath my waistband and into my panties. I squirm against his touch, trying to position myself in a way that he can give me the most pleasure. He runs his fingers through my slick and curses under his breath when I start to move against his hands, riding his fingers. “Fuck, Riley, keep doing that.”
“Please,” I beg. “Please.”
“Please what, Riley?” he says, his finger circling my clit as I buck and writhe, my core tightening.
“Please make me come,” I say, gripping his biceps. He pulls back, staring at me hungrily and I can’t believe it. Fox Anderson is right here, on this bed with me. Touching me. And the look in his eyes… like he’s never wanted anything more than to make me scream is almost enough on its own to shatter me.
I can’t imagine anything that could be hotter than this.
“Please,” I beg again, and he redoubles his efforts, hooking two fingers in my slick pussy, pumping them in and out while he lets me ride the pad of his thumb with jerky movements, my body sliding on the sheets, feet kicking, sending pillows scattering to the floor.
“I’ll do more than that,” he says just before his fingers leave me and I almost cry out at their loss. But he grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head, marveling at my breasts and I lose all the air in my lungs.
He does the same with his own shirt, exposing a perfectly muscled chest that makes me want to drool. He bends to flick his tongue over each of my nipples in turn before we’re pressed bare chest to bare chest and I can feel every hard dip and valley of his abs. The press of his hips.
