Page 111 of Taken By the Pack

Something dark and satisfied flashes in his eyes before his lips crash into mine again, stealing my breath, stealing everything.

And then he takes me.

He’s feral. Unrelenting.

Every touch, every movement, every bite is pure possession, a claiming that has nothing to do with words and everything to do with instinct. He moves like a man starved, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever and won’t waste a single second.

The car rocks with our urgency, the windows fogging, the scent of us filling the space. His hands never stop moving, gripping, holding, dragging me deeper into the storm of him.

I match his hunger, meeting him stroke for stroke, our bodies locked in a rhythm as old as time itself.

My fingers clutch at him, nails raking, lips devouring. Every gasp, every moan, every broken whisper of his name is swallowed by the heat between us.

“Ash,” I cry out, my body bowing, tightening, shattering.

He follows, a low, guttural sound torn from his throat, his grip on me bruising as he buries his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

For a long moment, the only sound is our ragged breathing, the air between us thick, pulsing with everything we just shared.

His knot is locked within me, throbbing with the aftershocks of the pleasure we just shared. I can feel the warmth of his release, can smell my own slick, but I don’t care. I wouldn’t trade anything for what I just experienced.

His forehead presses to mine, his hands still gripping my hips like he’s not ready to let me go.

He exhales, his breath shaky, his voice hoarse. “You’re mine.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across my lips. I drag my fingers through his damp hair, tilting his face to mine, pressing a lingering kiss to his swollen lips.

“Yours,” I whisper.

The possessive gleam in his eyes sends another thrill through me. He captures my mouth again, slower this time, but just as intense.

“Again,” he murmurs against my lips.

And just like that, the fire reignites.

He captures my mouth again, kissing me deep and slow, like he wants to draw every breath from my lungs. The heat builds, tension coiling, threatening to snap?—

A noise outside jerks us both back to reality.

His thumb brushes over my mouth, his smirk slow, wicked. “Now what?”

I smile, my lips curving with something just as sinful. “Let’s go find the guys.” I lean in, my voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Then maybe later, we pick up where we left off.”

His chuckle is dark, promising. “I like the way you think.”

He glances down at the link between us.

“I, um… we’ll need to wait a few minutes before we can leave.”

I laugh and rest my body against his, enjoying the special connection, the tugging of the bond that makes the knot possible.

Finally, I feel him slip loose. I feel the regret I always feel when the knot is gone.

With one last searing kiss, we get dressed and straighten ourselves, laughter mingling with the still-smoldering heat between us as he helps me back to the passenger’s seat.

And just like that, everything feels right.

* * *

---