Page 6 of Rivals

Oh no, I just looked down—

Abort, ABORT.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, because that was a lot of Viktor, and he needed exactly zero of those details imprinted on his memory. Which was a shame, because they already were. Permanently. Probably forever.

And of all the hundreds of werewolves in the forest tonight, of course he’d be caught by the one asshole who hated his guts. Not some random stranger, not some faceless wolf he could pretend this never happened with. No. He got Viktor.

Nick let his head thump back against the dirt, staring up at the sky in pure resignation.

The werewolf’s massive hands gripped his wrists like steel, holding him effortlessly above his head. Gone was the sharp-suited, sneering corporate monster. In its place, Viktor was all raw, unfiltered power, a living, breathing weapon. Nick's eyes drifted lower before he could stop them. Broad shoulders. Tapered waist. Defined abs. They tensed with each breath, as if Viktor was aware of the exact effect this was having on him.

The silvery moonlight caught the dark trail of hair leading lower, and suddenly Nick’s mouth was bone dry.

Of course, it wasn’t enough for Viktor to be a regular annoying werewolf; no, he had to be hung as well.

Between Viktor's thighs, his cock stood proudly erect, thick and flushed with arousal.

Nick jerked his eyes away, but he couldn't erase the image burned into his mind. His own body betrayed him, responding to the press of Viktor's naked form. He squirmed, trying to put some small distance between them.

The werewolf's chest heaved against his, skin fever-hot even through Nick's clothing. "What the hell are you doing out here?!" Viktor's voice rumbled against Nick's chest.

Nick forced a smirk despite his thundering heart. "I'm here for the money. What about you?"

Viktor stared at him, equal parts disbelief and irritation. “I’m here to mate.”

Oh.

Nick’s brain went static for a second. Just pure, unfiltered white noise. Because of course Viktor would say something like that. Straight to the point. No room for misinterpretation. JustI’m here to mateas if he was ordering a damn coffee.

Viktor’s grip on his wrists tightened, pinning them harder into the dirt. The pressure shot straight down Nick’s spine, leaving heat curling in his stomach.

Oh, this was bad. This wasverybad.

Because that shouldn’t be hot. The weight of Viktor’s body pressing him down, the solid, unyielding strength caging him in—it should’ve made him feel trapped, not… whatever the hell this was. And yet, here he was, flat on his back beneath his completely naked workplace nemesis, his body betraying him in ways he would be unpacking in therapy approximately never.

Nick swallowed, forcing his smirk to stay put. He couldnotlet Viktor know he was affected. He only had one weapon in his arsenal, and it wasn’t strength—it was being annoying as hell.

So he used it.

He arched his back, pressing up against Viktor’s solid form, grinding just enough to be provocative. The heat between them flared, instant and undeniable. Viktor was burning up, his skin fever-warm, the raw power in his body barely restrained.

“Go ahead, then,” Nick murmured, voice all lazy defiance.

Viktor’s nostrils flared. His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as hefeltexactly what Nick was doing. His pupils blew wide, dark eclipses swallowing green.

Oh. That was… interesting.

Nick tilted his head, mouth curling in something close to mock innocence. “What’s wrong?” He let his voice drop to something lower, silkier. “Impotent?”

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