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Sol was huddled in a blanket, only brown eyes peeking out. Don’t think she knew what she was saying, but I’ll never forget.
“Then we have to make our own.”
That was September ninth.
Double-nines.
That year, my team only let me use one nine on the back of my jersey.
I never changed numbers.
Every time I want to quit, I remember.
Whenever I feel like shit.
Even when I believed Solomon was lost and gone.
I wanted to make something of myself, so I could make a home for us.
My pack.
My brothers.
Sol.
“Reese…”
Fuck.
My name on her lips would be the sweetest if she didn’t say it like she’s trying to let me down easy when she trades me off her team.
Jin says wait. Let her come to us.
Maybe that flies when you’re the hot-shit packleader. All suave and educated, with the CEO charm.
Nothing ever comes to me.
I have to put in work.
So how do I prove myself to her?
My hard fucking cock offers a hint.
She’s too beautiful, underneath me. Pony tail spread out like feathers. So soft at this angle.
My cock can shut the fuck up.
I haven’t slept since her internal scream on the plane. No way in hell am I gonna be the reason she makes that sound again. The reason her scent twists.
But I can’t move off her body now that I have her pinned, and Sol can’t seem to pull the trigger.
So, we hang together.
She swallows a few times.
Looks at me, then away.
Every time her eyes lift, I clench a little tighter, ready for the blow.
