Alpha Daddy

Painful Restraint

Jaxon

I watched her run.

Watched the way her hips swayed, the way her hair tumbled down her back, the way she practically bolted up those stairs like she couldn't get away from me fast enough. Her scent lingered, the warmth of her soft skin beneath my fingers tips remained there like an ache, the sight of her curvy little body so close to my reach yet so f*****g forbidden.

All of it...

All of it made my blood boil.

My hands were shaking.

My c**k was so hard it hurt. She hadn't noticed--but it was hard for her. My f*****g step daughter. My responsibility.

And my wolf was snarling inside my head, furious that I'd let her go. That I hadn't pinned her to that counter and made her mine. f****d her. Had her screaming my name like last night.

I shouldn't have f*****g touched her.

No matter what...

I...

Shouldn't have grabbed her jaw, shouldn't have gotten that close, shouldn't have breathed in her scent like a man starving for taste of her p***y.

But I couldn't help it.

Because “f**k—f**k—”, I hadn't been able to sleep. Hadn't been able to think about anything else since I'd heard her screaming my name last night.

My c**k had been hard for hours. Still was. Throbbing and aching, demanding I do something about the girl who just fled upstairs with my scent all over her skin.

But it hadn't started last night.

It had started way before that.

When she'd run into me in the hallway wearing nothing but that goddamn towel. When it had slipped just enough to show me the curve of her breast, water droplets trailing down her collarbone into the valley between them.

My wolf had lost his f*****g mind.

He'd wanted to rip that towel away. Wanted to pin her against the wall and mark every inch of her body. Wanted to claim her p***y, her mouth, her throat—everything—until she knew exactly who she belonged to.

“Ours”, he'd snarled. “Mark her. Make her Ours.”

But seeing her like this—standing in my kitchen wearing practically nothing, her n*****s hard beneath that thin shirt, her scent wrapping around me like a noose—it had been breaking me.

She'd felt so good under my hand. Soft. Warm. Delicate.

I could snap her in half if I wanted to.

The thought made my c**k throb even harder.

And the way she'd looked at me—pupils blown wide, lips parted, completely lost in whatever was running through that pretty head of hers.

She'd been fantasizing.

I'd seen it in her eyes. The way they'd glazed over. The way her breathing had changed. The way her scent had spiked with arousal so thick I could taste it.

She'd been imagining me doing things to her.

Filthy things.

The same things I'd been imagining all f*****g night.

I gripped the counter hard enough to make my knuckles white, fighting the urge to follow her upstairs. To kick down her door. To show her exactly what I wanted to do to her.

But I didn't.

Not yet.

Because she was off-limits. Forbidden. The daughter of the woman I'd married, the girl I was supposed to protect—not f*****g fantasize about.

Because when I finally crossed that line—when I finally took what we both wanted—there would be no going back.

“Control”, I reminded myself. “Control yourself, Jaxon. She is your goddamned step daughter. Bethany trusted her to you."

I needed to handle this. Needed to set boundaries before this spiraled completely out of control.

Before I did something we'd both regret.

Or worse—something we wouldn't regret at all.