Page 30 of Destined Prey
Rhett huffed and looked at him. “We were having a private conversation.”
“No such thing with two shifters in the room,” Casey said. “Our senses are much better, more acute, than any human’s ever will be. Anyway, Ben’s right. We won’t let anyone hurt our pack.”
“I’m not your pack,” Rhett all but snarled. “I’m no one’s property.”
Casey gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Whatever, but Jack is one of us now, because Ben is pack, so our protection extends to him, of course. Though I suppose he could move into our home.”
“This is moving really fast,” Jack said, holding up one hand. “I don’t think we need to be deciding anything about us living together yet.”
“No shit. Stop pushing him.” Rhett pointed at Ben. “You better not hurt him.”
Ben couldn’t begrudge Rhett that protectiveness. “I won’t.”
“I’m standing right here, and I’m an adult.” Jack waved. “Don’t talk about me like I’m three.”
Ben held out his hand to Jack. “I’m sorry. I understand older brothers, though. Imagine living with mine.”
Humor softened the raw edge in him. He needed Jack to see the man, not just the beast or the mistake.
“No fucking way,” Rhett muttered.
Jack slipped his hand into Ben’s. Ben could get lost staring into Jack’s pretty green eyes. Would have, if Rhett and Casey hadn’t started bickering.
“Come with me?” Ben asked, not wanting to be pushy, but he really needed some alone time with Jack.
“Yes.” He gestured to Rhett and Casey. “Are they safe to leave alone?”
“Casey won’t hurt him,” Ben assured Jack. “Rhett can’t really hurt Casey, either.”
“Go,” Rhett said, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not scared of this asshole.”
Casey’s smile was purely predatory.
Ben led Jack from the office. “Can we go back to the ranch?” Home wasn’t a place right now; it was wherever Jack would still meet his hand halfway. When Jack’s fingers tightened, Ben finally took a full breath.
Jack squeezed his hand. “Definitely.”
Chapter Sixteen
Between the way he could hear and feel Ben’s thoughts and seeing him shift again, Jack had no choice but to let go of his doubts and fears. He wasn’t even afraid that Ben would tire of him or hurt him—couldn’t be when he knew Ben intimately, much more intimately than sex alone would have made possible. The certainty settled low and warm, like a lock clicking. Fear had nowhere to sit in him anymore; there just wasn’t room.
When Ben sprawled on top of him in bed, their naked skin finally touching from chest to thighs, Jack almost combusted. He couldn’t think of anything but Ben, of the need running rampant through him, through them both. He felt his own, and Ben’s as well. The combination was eradicating everything but lust and want and pleasure.
Jack wound his arms around Ben’s neck and parted his legs, letting Ben slip between them. Notched together perfectly, cocks aligned, warm and hard and wet-tipped, Jack rose enough topress his mouth to Ben’s. Skin to skin, he could feel the thud of Ben’s heartbeat lining up with his own, two pulses syncing until the rhythm blurred into one.
Ben moaned and pushed him down, taking over the kiss, mouth sealed tight to his. Ben’s tongue pressed against Jack’s, and they dueled for dominance until Ben thrust then nipped Jack’s bottom lip. Every time Ben took, he gave right back—pressure easing, then returning—teaching Jack’s mouth a new language where yes lived in the slide and the sigh more than in words.
“Fuck,” Jack panted, turning his head, writhing, lust firing through him like never before. All arousal prior to Ben paled in comparison, so much so it hadn’t even been in the same category as this. Jack hadn’t felt anything before—he’d just gone through the motions, had justthoughthe’d known what pleasure was, what bodies could do together.
Ben was showing him how wrong he’d been.
Jack ran his hands down Ben’s back, over powerful muscles and soft skin, marked here and there by scars. He traced one with his fingertips, a pale line that lifted under his touch. History written in skin. Jack pressed his palm there, a silent promise.With me, you heal.
“Fights,” Ben murmured against Jack’s cheek. “Turf wars. Playing around.”
Jack kept moving his hands down until he reached Ben’s lower back, the dip then swell of his buttocks. “Do you ever bottom?”
He didn’t know why he needed the answer right then—maybe because wanting everything meant wanting to know the ways Ben felt safe, too.
