Page 102 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
“Astra, you need to sleep this off.”
But she’s not listening. Her hands move to the laces of my shirt, fumbling with them clumsily. “I like your body,” she murmurs, her touch sending fire through my veins despite her intoxication. “You’re so strong. So warm.”
I catch her hands gently, even as every instinct screams at me to let her continue. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.” She looks up at me, and despite the wine, there’s something clear and determined in her gaze. “I’ve wanted to touch you for days. Ever since that first kiss.”
My resolve wavers as she presses closer, her body soft and warm against mine. The scent of wine and lavender soap surrounds me, and when she rises up on her toes to brush her lips against my jaw, I have to close my eyes and fight for control.
“Astra,” I say, my voice rougher than I want it to be. “Not like this.”
“Why not?” Her hands slide around my chest, fingers tangling in the fabric of my shirt. “Don’t you want me?”
The honest question, asked in that breathless, hopeful voice, nearly destroys me. Of course I want her. I want her so badly that I ache.
But not like this. Not when she’s drunk and vulnerable and won’t remember clearly in the morning.
“More than you know,” I tell her sincerely, gently untangling her hands from my shirt. “But you’re going to hate yourself tomorrow if we do this now.”
She looks up at me with confusion and hurt. “You don’t want me.”
“I want you,” I say firmly, cupping her face in my hands. “When you’re sober and willing and sure. Not because you’ve had too much wine.”
For a moment, I think she might argue. Then her shoulders slump, and she nods reluctantly.
“Will you help me?” she asks quietly, gesturing to her dress.
I undo the clasps, then turn around while she changes into her nightclothes, my hands clenched into fists as I listen to the rustle of fabric. When she’s finished, I help her into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.
“Lucian?” she says drowsily.
“Yes?”
“I meant what I said. About wishing I’d stayed.”
I smooth her hair back from her face, watching as her eyes slowly close. “Sleep, Astra.”
Within minutes, she’s breathing deeply, the alcohol finally pulling her under. I settle into the chair by the window, knowing sleep won’t come easily for me.
Tomorrow, she may not remember half of what she said tonight. But I’ll remember every word.
Chapter Seventeen
Astra
I wake to warmth surrounding me like a cocoon, my body more relaxed than it has been in weeks. Something solid and firm presses down on my back, and there’s a heavy weight across my hip that I can’t seem to identify.
My eyes flutter open slowly, consciousness drifting back like fog lifting from water.
Something’s different.
I’m warm—warmer than I should be, sleeping outdoors. There’s a slowly pulsing rhythm beneath my ear that isn’t my own heartbeat. Something solid and firm presses against my cheek, rising and falling in a hypnotic pattern.
I blink, my vision slowly focusing on smooth, tanned skin stretched over muscle. My hand rests flat against what I gradually realize is a bare chest, and I can feel the strong, steady beat of a heart under my palm.
A man’s chest.
Lucian’s chest.
