He laughs, the sound husky and beautiful, and then he's moving, positioning me over him, his eyes never leaving mine as he slowly, carefully, reverently joins us together after all this time apart.
The sensation is overwhelming. Perfect. Like coming home to a place I never thought I'd see again.
"Hell," he breathes, his forehead falling against mine. "You feel even better than I remembered."
We move together slowly at first, relearning each other, rediscovering the rhythm we used to know by heart. Every touch, every caress, every whispered endearment builds the tension between us like a carefully tended fire.
"Harder," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, Logan. I need..."
"I know," he growls, his hands gripping my hips as he drives up into me. "I know what you need, baby. I've always known."
I can feel him swelling inside me, his knot beginning to form, and the sensation makes me cry out. "Logan..."
"You fit so perfectly," he breathes, his voice thick with wonder and possession. "Like you were made for me. Only me."
The possessiveness in his voice, the way his knot is locking us together, the primal satisfaction in his storm-gray eyes, it all combines to send me spiraling toward the edge faster than I expected. My head falls back, a cry escaping my lips that would probably fog the windows if they weren't already completely steamed over.
"That's it," he encourages, one hand sliding between us to touch me where I need it most. "Let go for me. I want to watch you fall apart."
And I do. Years of tension, years of pretending I didn't need this, years of lying to myself about being fine without Logan Pierce, all of it shatters as I come apart in his arms.
But as the waves of pleasure crash over me, Logan’s mouth finds the curve of my neck, and I feel the sharp pressure of his teeth against my skin. Not quite a claiming bite, but close enough to make every omega instinct I have sing with satisfaction.
“I want to claim you, Savannah. Can I?”
It’s like I’ve lost all sense of reason. Being in his arms. Feeling his touch. I’ve missed him. More than I realized until now.
"Mine," he snarls against my throat, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin. "You're mine, Savannah."
The possessive words combined with the pressure of his teeth and the fullness of his knot send me over the edge again, harder this time, my body clenching around him as he marks me.
He follows me with my name on his lips, his teeth finally breaking skin in the gentlest claiming bite I've ever felt, his hands gripping me like I'm his anchor in a storm, and for a moment the world disappears entirely.
When I finally come back to myself, I'm collapsed against his chest, both of us breathing hard, both of us trembling with aftershocks. His arms are wrapped around me like he's afraid Imight disappear, and I can feel his heart racing against my chest. His knot is still thick inside me, keeping us locked together, and there's a warm trickle of blood from where his teeth broke my skin.
"Holy shit," I finally manage, lifting my head to look at him.
"Yeah," he agrees, his voice hoarse. "Holy shit."
His thumb traces the bite mark on my neck, gentle and reverent. "I didn't mean to without discussing it with the pack first…I couldn't help myself."
"Good," I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it. "I've been waiting too long for you to bite me."
His eyes go dark at my confession. "Savannah..."
"Don't," I say, pressing my finger to his lips. “…it feels right."
And as we sit there in the steamy aftermath, still locked together, still breathing each other's air, his mark fresh on my throat, I realize that maybe, just maybe, second chances are worth the risk.
Thank you, universe, for making me lose my damn mind in a steamed-up jeep with the one man I swore I'd never let break my heart again.
18
SAVANNAH
Luckily Xavier and Griff weren't at home when we got back last night. It was magical in the jeep, holding each other bringing back the past. I felt as if I was twenty again.
I reach for my usual morning routine, hand automatically going to the small white pill bottle on the bathroom counter. Three little suppressants that keep my omega biology in check, that prevent the kind of scent spikes that would broadcast every embarrassing emotion to three alphas who already know too much about what makes me tick.
