“You good?” he asked, low enough that only I could hear.
I should have said yes and shoved him off.
I should have made a joke and broken the tension that had started to coil between us.
But my mouth betrayed me.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “I’m good.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened like that answer did something to him. Like it snapped a restraint.
His hips pressed against mine.
And I felt every fucking inch of him. Solid muscle. Predator strength. The unmistakable hardness of his cock against my thigh through our pants.
My own dick reacted instantly, traitorous, thickening fast, pressing against the fabric of my training pants like they were not even there. Heat flooded my belly. My pulse turned loud in my ears.
Daniel’s eyes widened, just a fraction.
He felt it.
Felt me.
For a heartbeat I thought he’d push back, stand up, pretend nothing happened.
He didn’t.
He shifted his weight, slow and deliberate, and the movement dragged his erection against mine through two thin layers of fabric that might as well have been skin. The friction hit like a spark to gasoline. My throat tightened around a sound I refused to make.
The pack was still watching. Wolves with sharp eyes and sharper instincts.
I tried to remember that. I tried to care.
Daniel’s breathing went rough. His hand tightened around my wrist, pinning it harder, and the other hand slid to my hip like it belonged there.
“Michael,” he said, and my name sounded like a warning.
It sounded like a want.
My hips moved on their own, a helpless roll up into him, chasing the pressure, the heat. Daniel’s head dipped, his gaze flicking to my mouth like he was thinking about it. Like he was thinking about crossing another line and letting it ruin us.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.
My chest heaved. My cock throbbed, trapped and aching and desperate.
I could have taken the out.
I didn’t.
“Don’t you dare,” I whispered.
That did it.
Daniel’s control cracked in real time. I saw it happen. The tiny shift in his eyes, the tightening at the corners of his mouth, the way his body gave in to what it wanted.
He rocked his hips again, slower, heavier, grinding down until I felt the thick outline of him drag along my length. My whole body jolted. I bit down hard on my own tongue to keep quiet.
His hand slid from my wrist to my throat, not choking, just holding. A possessive grip. A silent claim.
