Page 44 of Taken By the Pack

The tools clatter to the floor. Jake’s up in a flash, his hand on my arm. “Grace?”

I shake my head, panting. “It’s—” My throat is dry. “It’s happening again.”

His eyes darken. “Okay. Breathe. Don’t panic.”

I make a strangled sound, half a sob, half frustration. “Jake, I?—”

“Shh.” He pulls me close, one big hand sliding around my waist, the other brushing back my hair. “Don’t fight it, baby. Just breathe.”

The nickname shouldn’t make my stomach flip, not now, but it does. And fuck, he smells so good. He’s strong and steady, offering the kind of comfort that makes me want to crawl into his skin.

His hand moves up, cups my cheek. “Is this how it happened last time?”

I nod. “Fast. Too fast.”

“I’ve seen Omegas in heat before,” he murmurs, like he’s trying to figure it out, like he’s working through some equation in his head. “But never like this.”

“Not even that time in the cabin?” I ask and press my forehead to his chest, gripping his shirt. My teeth graze his jaw, just for a second, just enough to make him inhale sharply.

His whole body tenses. “Grace.” His voice is lower now. Rougher.

I whimper. I hate it. I hate the way I sound, the way I need. But I can’t stop it. It’s like my body is running on instinct, and he’s the only damn thing keeping me tethered to reality.

His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back. His light green eyes are darker now, something flickering in them. Something dangerous.

Then, he says, “Fuck this.”

And he kisses me.

It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s all heat and pressure and possession, his lips moving against mine like he’s staking a claim.

I gasp into it, and he takes advantage, tongue sliding against mine, deepening it, making me dizzy.

My body responds instantly, pressing into him, needing more, more, more.

I’m burning.

He swallows my whimper, one arm locked tight around my waist. His other hand is in my hair, tilting my head, angling me how he wants, like he’s taking his time memorizing my taste.

My hands curl into his shirt, pulling him closer. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

When he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, his forehead pressed to mine.

“Shit,” he mutters.

I swallow hard, still shaking. “Yeah.”

His grip tightens on my waist. “Grace…”

I know.

I know this changes things.

I know it’s dangerous.

But right now, with his scent clouding my head and my body screaming for more, I don’t give a damn. I grab the front of his shirt, tug him down.

“Do that again.”

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