Page 54 of Pack Obsession

He carries me back to the front seat, kissing me.

“You’re doing something to me I never expected, Casey.” He places me gently on the seat and moves around to get behind the wheel.

I curl up, purring softly, his hand on my thigh as he starts the car.

“What’s that?” I murmur.

“Making me believe I need someone like you in my life.”

His response strikes me as hard as the heat still clinging to me.

The engine rumbles to life, but his hand stays on my thigh, warm and steady as we pull onto the highway where a car zips down the road.

He glances at me, then reaches for the car phone, calling someone. I hear him as he says, “Logan, get your fucking ass home, you and A. Casey’s just gone into heat…”

I hear the raw, strangled panic in his voice, his words breaking mid-sentence.

“She’s fine...” he manages to say, smiling at me as I curl on the seat, feeling the ache still there, my inner legs soaking wet, and all I can think about is having his cock back inside me. But I’m trying… I’m trying so hard to hold on a bit more.

Then he hangs up.

“Are you worried about me being in heat?” I ask softly.

He’s shaking his head. “Not worried but fucking exhilarated. I also know that the guys and I told each other we would come to you instantly if you went into heat and let each other know.”

“You did that for me?” I ask softly, unable to contain the smile spreading across my face. That magical grin of his has me purring against him.

“That shouldn’t surprise you. Have you not noticed how drawn we all are to you?”

I duck my head, fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve. The intimacy of his words suddenly feels overwhelming.

“I guess I’m not used to people going out of their way like that. Back home, I was always just... there. Background noise.” I risk a glance up at him through my lashes. “Sometimes, I still feel like I’m dreaming all of this.”

Nash reaches over, his fingers ghosting along my jawline before gently tilting my chin up. That simple touch awakens the arousal that seemed to lay dormant for a few minutes. A moan rolls over my throat, my chest sticking out toward him.

“That innocence of yours,” he says, distracting me, and I stare up at him like he’s my everything. “The way you see the world with such fresh eyes… it’s breathtaking, Casey. You have no idea how rare that is, do you? How special?”

The tenderness in his expression makes my chest ache. When he looks at me like that, I can almost believe him.

He pulls me in close, wrapping his arms around me and holding me against his side. I cling to him and breathe in his scent—the cinnamon, pine, and smoke—mixed with the heady scent of our lust. It’s a possessive comfort. I press my face into his chest. He holds me there for a long moment, the silence broken only by the hum of the car’s engine as we speed along the highway.

My body is heavy with arousal, and my mind is blissfully blank, unable to think of anything but being fucked.

After what feels like forever, he pulls into the driveway of their huge cabin in the woods, and the car cuts. He’s out of the driver’s seat, rushing to my door like a man possessed. I get out, and I’m in his arms in seconds, then just as quickly in the house, him kicking the door shut behind us. Then we’re up the stairs and in what I assume is his bedroom.

My breath speeds up as I take in the space. It’s exactly what I’d expect from Nash—meticulously ordered, yet surprisingly warm despite its minimalist design. The room is painted in a deep charcoal gray. A massive platform bed dominates thespace, dressed in what looks like absurdly expensive charcoal and black bedding.

But what draws my eye is the painting that commands attention on the wall opposite the bed. I recognize Axel’s signature immediately—the way he captures water is unmistakable. It’s a seascape during a storm, all turbulent grays and deep navy blues, with white-capped waves crashing against unseen rocks. The sky above is heavy with clouds, illuminated by a streak of lightning that seems to crackle with actual electricity. There’s something raw and primal about it, something that makes my skin tingle. It’s perfectly Nash—controlled chaos, power barely contained.

A sleek black desk holds three monitors. Everything on the desk has its place. Built-in shelving spans one wall, its gray-stained wood holding books and what look like vintage gaming consoles.

“Casey,” he says, my name a snarl in his throat. “You’re not finished yet. I’m not finished with you.”

“You better not be.”

He has me on my feet, and instantly, my back hits the wall by the bed as he surges forward, his body pressed against mine, so close it seems as though I might simply be absorbed into him. His lips are all over my neck, kissing, sucking, and I’m sure he’s leaving dark, bruising marks on my skin. His hands grip my waist firmly. It’s as though a primal instinct is taking over as he slams me against the wall, not breaking contact as I gasp, a frantic sound caught in his mouth. He kisses me so deeply, I think I may drown in him.

I gasp for air but frantically tug for him to be closer, ripping at his clothes as they need to come off.

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