Page 23 of Stuck with my Pack
“What the hell are you doing?” I bark, my voice laced with authority as I stride toward her.
Sophie startles but doesn’t let go of the plank. Her eyes flash as she looks up at me, her Omega dancing under her skin, wanting to please me. But she fights it.
“I’ve got it,” she snaps, her tone daring me to argue, her grip tightening as if to prove her point.
I don’t stop. My Alpha won’t let me. “You shouldn’t be lifting this on your own,” I say, my voice low and firm. I reach for the plank, my fingers brushing hers as I take it from her grip.
“I’m perfectly capable, Ethan,” she bites out, her chin lifting in defiance. Her cheeks are flushed, her scent spiking with irritation—but there’s something else beneath her annoyance, something warmer, headier.
“Don’t be stubborn, Sophie,” I counter, setting the plank against the barn wall and closing the distance between us. She has to look up at me, and I can see the flushing in her cheeks and the pulse beating at her neck.
My tone is rough, carrying the weight of my Alpha. “You could hurt yourself.”
Her scent wavers—softening for a heartbeat as her Omega instincts respond to my authority. She falters, her shoulders loosening, her lips parting as though she’s about to concede.
But just as quickly, she fights it off, squaring her stance and glaring up at me. She brings her palm to my chest as if to push me away from her.
“I don’t need you to swoop in and save me,” she says, her voice shaking with frustration. “I’ve got it covered.”
The fire in her eyes, the defiance in her stance—it stirs something primal in me. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” The words come out before I can stop them, my tone a mix of exasperation and admiration.
I press into her palms, daring her to push me away, but her hands curl in the fabric of my shirt as her breath nearly pants out of her.
“And maybe I’m tired of everyone thinking I need saving,” she says back, her voice breaking slightly but strong enough to pierce through my defenses.
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She’s right. She’s always been right. But that doesn’t stop the need coursing through me, the overwhelming drive to protect her, to take her burden and shoulder it myself.
I push into her, closing the distance between us, and she takes a step back. Her Omega instincts are warring with her will—I can see it in the way her pupils dilate, the way her breath catches as I advance.
The way her scent thickens with need and want.
Her back hits the side of the barn, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us. Sweet vanilla, warm earth, and the unmistakable musk of slick flood the space around us.The scent is in the air, clinging to her skin, and it’s driving me out of my goddamn mind.
Her scent engulfs me and the realization of how she’s responding hits me like a thunderclap, my Alpha roaring to the surface. She’s aroused, her body betraying her even as her words push me away.
“Sophie,” I growl, my voice low and rough, “you’re going to drive me insane.”
Her lips part, her breathing quickening. Her scent thickens even more, wrapping around me like a drug, and I can’t stop myself. I lean in, my cheek brushing against hers as I drag my nose along the soft curve of her neck, scent-marking her without even thinking.
My stubble is rough as I run my cheek and nose along her neck, cheeks, and shoulders. Her Omega reacts instantly, her body going still, her scent spiking with need. I’m drowning in it.
“Ethan…” she whispers, her voice trembling, unsure.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur, my lips grazing the sensitive shell of her ear, sending a shiver through her. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
But she doesn’t. Instead, her head tilts back, her neck bared to me in a silent, instinctual act of submission. My Alpha roars its approval, the primal need to protect, possess, and claim surging through me like wildfire.
I press my lips to hers, and the kiss is everything I’ve been holding back—raw, consuming, and laced with years of frustration and longing. Her lips are soft and yielding, parting for me as her hands clutch at my shoulders.
I lift her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist as I press her into the barn wall. Her soft moan vibrates against my lips, fueling the fire already raging in my chest. Her arms circle my neck, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer, deeper.
Her scent floods my senses, her slick soaking through the fabric of her leggings where she’s pressed against me. My hips grind against her, instinct taking over, desperate to feel her closer, skin to skin.
“Ethan,” she gasps as I break the kiss, my lips trailing down her jaw, her neck, to the delicate hollow of her throat. She tips her head back further, giving me access, her soft whimpers spurring me on.
I bury my face in her neck, inhaling deeply, the scent of her arousal more intoxicating than anything I’ve ever known. My teeth graze her skin, in a warning that is also a promise, and she arches into me, her body trembling with need.
“Please,” she breathes, her voice breaking on the word, and it’s the only permission I need.
