Page 63 of Taken By the Pack

When she comes back, she’s different.

Her skin is flushed, her breathing shallow. Her scent—already sweet—is thicker now, richer. And fuck, I know what this is.

Her heat.

“Let’s go,” I say, already standing.

She nods quickly, not meeting my eyes. I don’t need to push her. She knows as well as I do that she can’t stay here like this.

Outside, she grips the car door handle, her knuckles white. Her thighs press together as she shifts on her feet.

I exhale through my nose, forcing down the surge of heat rolling through me. “What do you need?”

She swallows hard. “Take me home.”

I nod, sliding into the driver’s seat.

By the time we get to her house, she’s shaking.

“I called my pack,” she whispers. “They’re coming.”

I grip the wheel. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m okay,” she says, but then she moans, her head falling back against the seat.

I bite back a curse.

“You think I don’t know this is torture for you, too?” Her voice is breathy, wrecked.

I clench my jaw. “I don’t mind.”

Her laugh is soft, barely there. “Liar.”

She fumbles with the door, and I rush to help her inside. As soon as we’re inside, she collapses onto the couch, eyes glassy. I grab a bottle of water from the kitchen and kneel in front of her.

“Drink,” I say.

She takes a few sips before handing it back. “I think I need a shower.”

She tries to stand, but her legs give out and she stumbles right into me.

Fuck.

She’s warm. Too warm. I help her up, settling on the sofa with her on my lap.

And she’s pressed right up against me.

Her breath hitches as she realizes what she’s done. “I’m?—”

“Don’t,” I rasp. Her eyes lock with mine, and I swear I can see her nipples harden through the blouse.

She bites her lower lip, and I have to fight the urge to suck it into my mouth, to bite it so hard the taste of copper fills both our mouths.

Fuck me!

Her hips shift, just slightly, but it’s enough.

My body reacts, hard and fast.

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