Page 17 of Taken By the Pack

It’s overwhelming, the way he works me, like he knows exactly what I need.

It doesn’t take long before I’m there, shaking apart around him.

But it’s not enough.

“More,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “Please.”

He pulls back, leaving me aching and empty. I hear the rustle of fabric behind me, and my stomach flips.

I risk a glance over my shoulder. He’s standing there, his sweatpants hanging dangerously low as his hand moves over himself.

“Rowan,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

His eyes meet mine, dark and intense. “Turn around.”

I hesitate, but the command in his tone leaves no room for argument. I roll onto my back, my legs still dangling over the edge of the bed.

His hand slides over my thigh, spreading me open again. I shiver at the way his gaze lingers, like he’s committing every inch of me to memory.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, almost to himself. “Why do you have to smell so fucking good?”

I blush, but before I can respond, his fingers are back on me, stroking and teasing until I’m a mess beneath him.

He leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “Tell me what you want, beautiful.”

“I want… I want...” My words trail off as another wave of pleasure hits me.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “That’s what I thought.”

I come again, harder this time, my body convulsing under his touch.

I barely have time to catch my breath before he’s pulling me into his arms, his chest solid and warm against mine.

He presses a kiss to my forehead, soft and unexpected. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs.

Before I can respond, he’s gone, leaving me tangled in the sheets, my body humming with satisfaction and my mind spinning.

Sleep comes for me fast.

* * *

The sun’s out.I blink a few times, groggy as hell. My body’s sore in places I don’t want to think about.

For a second, I forget where I am, but the scent of musk and saltwater punches me right in the gut. His scent.

Rowan.

I push myself up, my fingers tangling in the soft sheets. The storm’s over. The lighthouse is quieter now, except for the faint whistle of the wind outside.

It takes a second, but then I remember. I remember everything.

My cheeks burn, and I squirm, burying my face in my hands. Last night. Fuck. I shouldn’t have?—

No, stop thinking about it. Just get up.

I glance around, and that’s when I see them. My white dress and panties, neatly folded at the edge of the bed. He must’ve dried and brought them here during the night. My stomach flips, and not in a good way.

“Okay, Grace,” I mutter to myself, sliding out of bed. “Just… get dressed and leave.”

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