Page 69 of Taken By the Pack

“Surprise me.”

I take a step toward the door, then hesitate. “What’s it feel like?”

He lifts a brow. “What?”

“The knot. Being, y’know… stuck.”

Rowan smirks, shaking his head. “It’s… intense. Good. A little overwhelming, but in a way that just makes you wanna do it again.”

He glances down at Grace, stroking her back. “Especially with her.”

A flicker of something tugs at my chest. It’s not jealousy and it’s not resentment. Just—anticipation.

“Thanks for letting me do it,” Rowan says after a beat.

I roll my eyes. “We’re in this together, man. No point in being weird about it.”

He nods, then shifts again, adjusting her weight. “All right. Go cook something before I start getting hangry and take it out on you.”

I chuckle, heading toward the kitchen.

I walk in and scan the nearly empty fridge. The cabinets aren’t much better. She has the essentials—coffee, protein bars, some instant noodles—but not much else.

“Jesus, Grace,” I mutter, making a mental note to go grocery shopping tomorrow.

I take out my phone and place an order. By the time the food arrives, both Rowan and Grace are asleep.

I think back to the past hour. To the way Rowan touched her. To the way she melted under him.

And fuck if I’m not looking forward to my turn.

* * *

A shiftof warmth and movement pulls me from sleep. My arms are heavy, my body relaxed, but there’s something—someone—pressing against me.

I blink, adjusting to the dim light of the living room. She’s in my lap, straddling me, her hands skating down my chest.

“Hey, baby,” I murmur, voice still thick from sleep.

She smiles, slow and teasing. “Hey.”

I glance toward the hallway. “Where’s Rowan?”

“Still sleeping,” she says, fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt, nails dragging lightly over my skin.

I exhale a slow breath. “And you? You still in heat?”

She shakes her head, then tilts it. “Maybe. But mostly, I thought sex was supposed to be fun. You said so yourself.”

That makes me chuckle. “Yeah, I did say that.” My hands settle on her hips, fingers tracing soft, warm skin. “You sore?”

“A little,” she admits, “but I want you.”

Her words make my stomach tighten.

I sit up, sliding my hands up her back, fingers pressing into the soft flesh as I pull her closer. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

She leans in, pressing her lips to mine, slow and searching, her body molding against me.

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