Alpha Roan.
A common second is all it takes. My hands find her breasts, and the world narrows to the soft, decadent weight of them in my palms. I squeeze, I massage, relearning the perfect contours that were made for my hands. At the back of my arrogant mind, a single, thought surfaces: remember she’s pregnant. It only makes the fire burn hotter. I bury my mouth in her neck and let my teeth feel the pulse there.
Does she have any idea what it’s like? To have had the mate bond searing in my veins, only to have her play the stranger? I’ve been starving in a house full of feast.
I’ve memorized every detail of her in sleep. The architecture of her hips when her back is turned, the quiet sigh of her chest, the secret flutter of her eyes. She is my ruin, and I am her most devoted wrecking
