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He nods and drops his gaze to his lap. “There will never be enough ways to say I’m sorry. I was mad at the world. I was mad at you. I was mad about...everything. But you didn’t deserve my anger.”
Dropping one knee onto the cushion, I use the arm of the couch to brace myself as I settle down to straddle him. He tucks his hands under his legs, more to stop himself than to keep from touching me, I’m guessing. He’s fully clothed, but my bare pussy settles over the soft material of his joggers.
He struggles to breathe.
I watch the frantic way his chest rises and falls as I place my hands on either side of his head and lean toward him. His eyesbounce between mine, and his lips part with a question he can’t voice.
He’s confused, not in control, and at my mercy.
My lips brush over his cheek and settle against his ear. I rock over his hardened length and release a throaty hum. “You felt so good inside of me,” I whisper, rolling my hips again, ignoring the slick that’s now coating his pants. “It was so perfect,” I confess, releasing a shaky breath as I grind my clit against him.
“Fuck,” he growls under his breath, but his hands stay tucked under his legs. His muscles tremble with restraint, and I rock my hips over him again with another hum of approval as my slick and scent cover him.
I move my mouth to his other ear, brushing my cheek over his, marking him in my own way. “And when you knotted me.” I pause and make little circles, keeping the point of pressure right on my clit. “I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.” I wrap my arms around him and drop my nose to his neck, breathing him in, even though there’s no scent for me to find, and begin bringing myself to orgasm using him.
The joggers are so wet, the material clings to his thickness. The fluttering of his pulse matches the racing of my own heart, and our breathing syncs. Every inhale where I grind myself up the length of his cock, every exhale when I push down a little harder and roll back down, we take together. He breathes my scent in, finally able to find it and no longer able to pretend like he hates it, and I try to find his, try to understand him.
“Yes,” I gasp into his neck as my clit begins to pulse. His hips lift up when I undulate, but I’m not mad at him for that. I need that added pressure, his urging to keep going until I’m whimpering and moaning against his neck, kissing his pulse. Sucking his skin into my mouth and leaving a mark for him to live with, if only for a few days.
The rest of my confessions don’t need to be said out loud as I climb off his lap.
He gave me heaven, then ripped it all away. I fix Dylan’s shirt, covering my dripping cunt and watching him wrestle with his own urges. Every inch of him is vibrating with need. His muscles bunch as he fights himself.
Alphas take what they want when they want.
But not Brady.
At least, not for a little while longer.
My attention strays to his lap. His cock is hard, and I can only imagine how much it must hurt not to come. Not to find release alongside his mate. Our eyes collide again. Those stormy ocean blues are a riot of emotions, and he nods, understanding the message.
“Well, that was interesting,” Dylan mumbles around a yawn.
I turn and find both him and Austin awake. “Let’s go to bed.” They don’t argue. Both are up and off of the couch, calling what side of my bed they want. Luckily, their dads sprung for king-size beds for all the kids, otherwise there wouldn’t be room for all of us. I shake my head, a grin pulling at my lips, and head after them. I stop at the threshold and glance back at Brady. I tip my head toward the exit. “Are you coming?”
His exhale is so filled with relief, my chest aches with empathy. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
And I don’t doubt that. This time, when I go up the stairs, I’m not running away.
I’m leading and he follows.
Forty-One
QUINN
Trying to listen to Calla, my work buddy, as she explains what I’ll be doing is almost impossible with the vivid memories of everything I did with the guys running through my head. The way Dylan rasped my name and begged me to call himstepbrother. The sensations from the silicone ridges of Austin’s cock. The way Brady struggled not to touch me. The soft kisses. The gentle caresses. The looks of longing.
Needless to say, for my first day of work, I doused myself in descenting lotion and donned my favorite pair of scent-wicking panties, because I have it bad.
“—just reconcile the numbers and everything will be fine.”
Refocusing on the screen Calla is showing me, I take in the work paper and nod. It’s pretty similar to what I did at Mosley & Adams. Grunt work. “And if there are issues?”
“We mark them here like this.” She demonstrates how they make notes and exceptions.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and both of us glance at it.
Calla arches an eyebrow at me and smiles. “Girlfriends? Boyfriends?”
