Page 24 of The Gamma's Second Chance

I stalk closer, and her chin lifts higher so she can hold my gaze. I press my palm into the wall and lean towards her, lowering my face until we’re only inches apart. She’s unexpectedly petite, considering how long her legs are—I have to lean down further than I thought I would to be this close to her—and I’m shocked at how much her small stature delights me. She’d fit right under my chin if I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her, creating a little pocket of comfort and safety for her to snuggle into.

Goddess, could my thoughts wander any further from the actual issues at hand?

“You can’t just slap your name on something and claim it’s yours,” I say, my hand curling into a fist against the wall so I don’t act on my raging impulses.

“Sure you can.” Her green eyes glitter and swirl with her wolf’s presence, calling out to mine. He pushes against my restraints, whining for me to let him out to interact with her, but I shove him away, back into the recesses of my mind. “Isn’t that what we do when we mark another as our mate?”

I involuntarily glance at her neck. Or, at least, I tell myself it’s involuntary. I’m not entirely sure it was. She stiffens, and her throat bobs, her heart pounding and her pulse thrumming beneath the skin of her neck as she grips that tiny, insignificant towel closer to her body, and her legs squeeze together.

Before I know what I’m doing, my body shifts closer to hers, so our torsos almost touch, and my hand lifts to her damp hair, fingertips playing with the ends of it where it lies on the fabric of the towel. Even while wet, it’s silky beneath my touch, and the faint hint of daisies with the undertone of something light and sweet fills my lungs. I thought before that the scent of the daisies she keeps bringing into the house is what always lingers on her skin and in her hair, but I’m realizing it’s just her. She’s a true breath of fresh spring air, promising new beginnings and second chances.

And I deserve neither.

Cassandra continues to stare up at me, the glittering in her eyes shifting to something deeper, something heated. It calls to me, awakening desires for her beyond what was already there. The desire to take, to claim. Desires I can’t act upon or give in to.

Even though everything in me screams in protest, even though my wolf pleads with me to move forward instead of backwards, I tear myself away from her and back up against the far wall again,arms crossed and eyes downcast. A growl of frustration escapes me, one I can’t hold back, fueled by the combined aggravation of my wolf and me.

“Pizza,” I say at the tail end of my growl. “You mentioned something about pizza?”

She tucks her hair behind her ears and nods. “I went ahead and ordered it when I didn’t hear back from you. It should be ready soon.”

“Pick up?” I ask, and she nods again. “I’ll go get it,” I offer, desperate for any excuse to get as far away from her as I can before I do something I can’t take back.

“Thanks,” she says.

I turn and walk to the front door, and her bare feet pad across the hall and into the bathroom, the door clicking shut and locking only seconds later.

And I grit my teeth and leave the house to grab our dinner, my head and my heart still at war with each other over what to do about the seeds Cassandra is planting in my life.

Chapter 8

CASSANDRA

Nolan prowls towards me,his pupils dark and his muscles taut, the veins in his arms bulging from his clenched fists. I back up, but the bedroom door blocks my escape, and I find myself trapped. Cornered. There’s nowhere for me to go as he towers over me, hovering above my quivering body.

His fingers play with the tips of my damp hair, and my grip on the towel loosens as his touch trails across my collarbone. Back and forth his hand glides, traveling lower with each pass, my back arching so my chest rises towards him. He reaches my hands, and his touch skates down my arm and back up to the edge of the towel, where he tugs on it, prying it free from my grasp.

The white fabric falls to the floor, leaving me naked in front of him, palms flat against the smooth, cool wood of the door behind me. His pupils widen while his eyes roam my exposed body, lingering on my chest and taking their time to travel the lengths of my legs. Down to the floor and back up the opposite leg, ending their journey on my dripping wet, aching pussy.

He drops to his knees in front of me, grabbing my hips and staring up at me from between my legs, his gaze hungry and heated. His hands slide up, caressing the dip of my waist and stroking the sides of my breasts, his thumbs gliding underneath the heaving swell of them as my breath quickens and my mouth parts. Tender, warm lips float across my lower abdomen, his nose brushing my skin and raising goosebumps all over my body and the hairs on the back of my neck as he inhales my scent between his kisses.

My knees quake, and my body shudders, threatening to fall to the floor, but his hands pin me to the door, keeping me upright and in place as he explores my willing body. His hands traverse my skin again, one cupping my breast, squeezing and playing, and the other tracing spiraling, curving lines across my upper thigh, as if he’s writing his name there, labeling me as his, laying claim to me and my body.

He kisses lower and lower, his touch and his mouth moving at a crawl towards my waiting pussy. He pauses, though, right as he reaches that sensitive place between my legs, his eyes meeting mine again. Our tense bodies reflect the anticipationwe each feel as we wait for him to touch me there. His bronze skin shimmers and ripples with every breath he takes, each puff of air teasing my entrance with its promising warmth, a mere shadow of the touch he’ll give me once he relents.

No words pass between us. No words are needed. Silence is our language. We read the other’s intentions and needs through the unspoken—through the touches, the glances, and the tension in our bodies and in the air between us.

His fingers stop their tracing on my leg and slide around to cup my ass, digging into it hard enough to leave marks. He leans forward, hovering over my pussy, and my eyes close, and…

And I wake drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around my legs and clutched to my naked chest as I sit bolt upright in the bed. My shoulders heave as I gasp and pant, fingers gripped into the bedding as I catch my breath, and my eyes dart around the bedroom, making sure I am alone.

Only once I confirm my solitude do I collapse back against the mattress and the pillows, one arm slung across my face as I sigh in relief.

Of course, there is no one else in here. My bedroom door is locked. Even if it wasn’t, Nolan is the only other occupant of this house, and he wouldn’t come in here like I want him to.

My body aches with need as the remnants of the dream settle in my veins. Goddess, what a dream it was. If only it’d been real. If only the male who’s hosting me in his home wanted me the way I want him.

I thought yesterday there’d been a spark or a flame orsomethingbetween us when he confronted me in the hallway. When he cornered me against the door and pressed his body so close to mine. For a moment I even thought he might rip that towel from me and take me right there up against the bedroom door, what with the way he leaned over me, his chest nearingmine with every synchronized breath we took, and the dark, heated hunger in his eyes as he stared down at me.

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