I pull at his sweater, yanking it up, desperate to feel his skin against mine. My nails scrape across his abdomen, and he groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me.
His hands grip my waist, and for a moment, I feel him resist. He’s trying to hold back, trying to maintain some shred of control.
Then, he gives in with a growl that makes my knees weak.
He flips us around in one smooth motion, spinning me so my back slams against the door this time. His mouth leaves mine; I whimper at the loss, but then his lips are on my neck and I can’t think anymore.
He kisses down the column of my throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin. His tongue traces patterns that make me arch against him. When he finds the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, he sucks hard enough that I know it’ll leave a mark.
The thought should horrify me. Instead, it makes heat pool between my thighs.
His hands roam over my body, sliding under my shirt, fingers spreading across my ribs. His hands are rough and warm and everywhere at once. One slides up to cup my breast through my bra, and I gasp, my head falling back against the door.
“Darius.” His name comes out as a moan.
He grunts against my neck in response, his hips pressing forward. I can feel how hard he is, the evidence of his desire pressing against my stomach. It makes me even wetter.
I’m completely soaked at this point. My jeans feel too tight, too restrictive. I need them off. Need his off. Need him inside me with a desperation that borders on insanity.
I’ve stopped thinking entirely. There’s no room for thought. Onlysensation. Only this overwhelming need that is consuming every rational part of my brain.
His hand slides down my stomach, fingers hooking in the waistband of my jeans, and I arch into him, silently begging him to go lower.
A phone rings.
The shrill sound cuts through the haze of desire like a knife.
We both freeze.
The phone rings again, vibrating in Darius’s pocket between us. Reality crashes over me in a wave so violent, I feel sick.
I shove him away from me, and he steps back immediately, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. They’re still flashing gold, pupils blown so wide, the brown is almost gone.
He looks feral. Desperate. Hungry in a way that makes my stomach clench.
The phone rings a third time.
He fumbles for it, then presses it to his ear without looking at the screen. “What?” he growls.
I watch his face change. The hunger quickly bleeds away, replaced by a harder expression. His entire body goes stiff.
“I’m not at home, Father.”
Father.
Alaric.
My stepfather.
The man who married my mother.
The alpha whose son I was just kissing.
Panic floods through me, cold and sharp. I step back, my hand flying to my mouth. What have I done? What the hell have I done?
Darius is talking, but I can’t hear the words over the rush of blood in my ears. I can’t process anything except the horror crawling up my throat.
He was kissing me. I was kissing him back. We were pressed against the door like animals, tearing at each other’s clothes, and he’s my stepbrother.
