Page 38 of Final Drive

She cries out, body jerking beneath me, and the bond opens so fast I lose my breath. Her pleasure is still there, bright and shaking, but underneath it is something that hits me harder.

Me.

Not the pack. Not an Alpha because she needs one. Me. She wanted me, and every stupid joke I’ve made and every week I’ve spent pretending I could wait as long as she needed collapses under that one fact.

I lift my head and find her watching me. Whatever she sees on my face makes her reach for me.

“Come here.”

I go, crawling back up her body as she grabs the hem of my shirt. I help her drag it over my head and toss it after her underwear. My jeans are next, or as much of them as I can manage with her pulling me back down every time I get more than six inches away.

“You’re making this difficult.”

“I thought you were impatient.”

“That’s not the same as wanting to fall off the bed with my pants around my ankles.”

“Very romantic.”

“I contain multitudes.”

I get the jeans down far enough and settle between her legs. Her hand wraps around me, and whatever I was about to say dies immediately.

Her eyebrows lift. “Oh.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I thought you liked when I touched you.”

“I do. That’s the problem.”

She strokes me again and I close my eyes.

“I found the off switch.”

“Reese.”

She does it again, and I catch her wrist and pin it gently beside her head. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I really am.”

I kiss her until that smug little look disappears, then line myself up and push into her.

Everything in my head goes blank.

Her mouth curves under mine.

“Don’t say it.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You’re thinking it.”

“I’m thinking you’ve been talking for fifteen minutes and that’s what finally shut you up.”