“Pull over,” I say, voice rough.
Grason’s brows pull together in the rearview. “What?”
“Stop the fucking car,” I snap, the words ripping out of me before I can temper them. “Now.”
That does it.
Grason doesn’t argue again. He signals, tires crunching over gravel as he guides us onto the shoulder of the deserted road. Trees press in on both sides, tall and dark and silent, like the world is holding its breath with us.
The car rolls to a stop, and I shove the door open and stumble out onto the shoulder.
Cold air slams into me, but it barely dents the heat roaring under my skin. I take a few uneven steps into the grass, bending forward, bracing my hands on my thighs as I stare back at the car.
The car door is wide open, framing Tansy’s soft, stunning body.
I drag in as much fresh air as I can, but it doesn’t help. My cock is still rock hard, pressed tightly down the side of my leg.
“Warren?” Grason’s door slams, boots crunching over half-dead grass as he approaches fast. “Hey! What happened?” He turns his head back as he approaches fast, checking on Tansy.
She’s still out.
“What’s wrong?” His dark hazel eyes find mine.
I shake my head, still bent over, trying to keep the world from spinning. It feels like I’m fighting for my life here. The urge to lose control and lean into my baser desires is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
“I…” The words scrape out of me. “I need a minute.”
Grason’s dark eyes narrow at my face, then he exhales slowly like he’s realizing something. “Yeah,” he says with a small nod. “Her scent is fucking me up too.”
I straighten, dragging my gaze over the tall alpha. It isn’t a conscious choice—a primal need to see if he’s really fighting the same battle.
Grason’s fingers flex, then curl into a slow, controlled fist at his side. And then my eyes drop lower. Right to the front of his slacks. The dark fabric strains, a distinct ridge pressing against the zipper. Clear, undeniable proof of his own fucking torture.
My mouth waters, and a feral, instinctive crack shatters the last of my control.
The need to claim, to dominate, to do anything to ease the pressure under my skin roars through me.
I’m on Grason in an instant, fisting the front of his shirt and yanking him down to my level. Our bodies collide as I crash my mouth against his.
It isn’t a kiss. It’s a collision.
Hard, fast, brutal.
I bite his lower lip, sharp and punishing, and force my tongue past his, devouring his crisp pine scent.
Grason makes a low, startled sound against my mouth, one hand grabbing my shoulder like he’s bracing himself, the other gripping my waist.
Then he kisses me back as fiercely.
A low growl vibrates against my lips, sinking straight into my spine. His mouth slants over mine with a sudden, consuming hunger.
Fingers tighten on my waist, dragging me closer until there’s no space left between us.
My hand fists in the front of his shirt, knuckles brushing the warm skin beneath as I drag him even deeper into the kiss. My other tangles in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a sharp breath from him.
“Fuck,” Grason snarls. His hand slides away from my shoulder and down my spine in a slow drag of his fingers that makes my skin tingle. I’m not just hard. I’m fucking swollen, my dick pulsing with a frantic beat of its own.
“Back the fuck up,” Grason growls, then he moves.
