Page 79 of Step Alpha

I need more. I want to feel her bare skin beneath my palm. To see the bloom of my handprint on her ass.

I stop and release her. “Take them off.”

She whirls, face red, chest heaving. “What?”

“Your clothes.Take them off. You know how you get punished by me.” I flick my brows. “Naked.”

Instead of fighting me or arguing, Rayne falls against my body, soothing my wolf. Her hands coast up my chest to look around my neck. My arms band around her back.

“Calmdown.” She holds my gaze, showing me she’s here with me. It’s just the two of us.

No one else between us now.

“May I explain? Please?”

I give a jerky nod. I’m not sure I’m even capable of speech that doesn’t consist of growls or orders. It must be the approach of the full moon and this raging case of blue balls I have from sleeping next to Rayne every night.

The moment Abe told me Lincoln asked Rayne to the dance, and she said yes, I went feral. I don’t know how I even made it through the rest of practice. I definitely had to take my locker room shower ice cold.

Rayne climbs me like a tree, wrapping her sexy legs around my waist like a koala and tucking her face into my neck. Despite her offer to explain, she says nothing for a moment.

It’s okay, though. Having her body melded against mine soothes my wolf. My muscles start to relax as I breathe in her spring rain scent.

“I’ve never been to a school dance. Ever.”

It takes a moment for the meaning of her words to filter through my brain and unscramble to make sense. Rayne hasn’t been…she wants to go to a school dance.

Fuck.

Of course she does. It’s her senior year. She should get to experience that. Especially since she’s going to be Homecoming queen.

“Lincoln asked me as a friend. He made it clear–twice–it was just as friends.”

My hands tighten on her at the mention of Lincoln. My lips twist into a snarl.

“Shh,” she murmurs against my ear. “Just. Friends. I want to go to the dance. Obviously, you’re not going to take me.”

That missive hits me square in the chest.

I’m not sure what theobviouspart is–because she’s my stepsister or because she’s Rayne the Runt, the girl I wouldn’t have been caught dead associating with before our parents married? A sort of sick, guilty feeling fills my belly at that thought.

Either way, she’s right. I’m not taking her to that dance. And she deserves to go.

But–fuck!

I don’t want any guy near her.

I guess my brain still isn’t fully functional because I find myself stalking to one of the bedrooms.

“Where are you going?” Rayne asks.

I should hear the nervous note to her voice, but it doesn’t register. I toss her in the center of the bed and rip my t-shirt off over my head.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you, Rayne,” I declare like she has no choice in the matter. Like this is about to get rapey fast.

Of course, I’d pull back if she showed signs of not wanting it, but the need to claim her is kinda blotting out my more gentlemanly instincts right now.

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