Page 92 of Scrum Heat

Andeverythingelse disappears.

The moment his mouth hits mine, my whole body jolts. Sparks, electricity, a drop straight into something primal. His lips are firm, hungry, and all-consuming, and I moan as hands tighten. He pulls me closer, pressing me firmly against him, and I open for him without hesitation.

And he takes it.Deepensit.

His tongue strokes mine, slow and confident. He drags me hard against him—andfuck, I feel him already hard beneath me, thick and solid through the layers of our clothing. My fingers clutch his broad shoulders, trying to ground myself in the moment as his mouth eagerly dominantes mine.

It’s overwhelming. Instinctive.Raw.

This isn’t play—this is chemistry.

This is—dare I even think it—bond-deep.

He breaks the kiss, his plump mouth brushing mine as I pant against his lips. My skin’s flushed, my slick is rising, and my heart is pounding in my throat as he looks down at me.

“You feel that?” he growls.

I nod, rocking my hips instinctively against the outline of his cock.Shit—he’shuge.“Yes.”

“You weren’t ready before.”

I’m not sure I’m ready now—but Iwantit. I wanthim.

“I am now,” I whisper. “I want you.”

He pulls me in again anddevoursme, and heaven help me:I let him.

We kiss long enough that my legs go numb, long enough that my scent floods the room again, cloying and sweet, slick rising thickbetween my thighs. And when Jax finally pulls back, his chest isheaving.

His lips are wet, and his hands—still heavy on my waist—tremble like he’s hanging on by a thread.

I’m not doing much better.

Across the room, Theo’s sitting forward, elbows on his knees, jaw tight and gaze sharp. Finn’s standing, now; his arms crossed, his chest flushed and his breathing short. Rory’s shifted, his legs spread wider, his fists clenched on his thighs like he’s fighting every instinct to stand anddo something.

My eyes flick between them all. Betweenmy pack.

Fuck.

I press my forehead to Jax’s shoulder, trying to remember how to breathe. He exhales slow, and one of his hands lifts to cradle the back of my head.

“We should stop,” he mutters, voice rough. “Or I’m not stopping.”

I nod into his neck. “Yeah. Okay.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Theo clears his throat.

“So… same time next week?”

Finn groans and flops back onto the rug as Rory mutters, “Someone get the omega a cold drink before we all combust.”

I laugh—breathy, flushed, still half-straddling Jax.

“Remind me again what game this was?” I ask, finally peeling myself off him and wobbling back toward the couch.

Theo smirks. “Spin the bottle: group therapy edition.”

Finn tosses a throw pillow at him.

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