Page 33 of Forbidden Pregnant Mate

“Don’t worry about that,” I growled. “Because he’ll have to deal with me first.”

Klyte tilted his head. “You’re really going to hate me for saying this,” he said, “but you look incredibly sexy when you’re this angry. I would have told you that ages ago if I’d known.”

The words were such a shock that they snapped me out of my anger, and I started laughing. Klyte grinned warmly, and I realized that had been his intention the whole time.

“I don’t want you to hate your dad,” he said, coming to stand next to me and taking my hand in his. “It’s kind of sucky to go through life without a father. And despite everything, I like your dad. So don’t kill him right away, at least.”

I was still seething, even as his words softened the rage inside me. He could tell, and he pulled me into his arms.

“No matter what your dad says,” he muttered, “I’m not letting you get away again. You’re mine, and I’m not going to be stupid enough to let you slip away. We’ll deal with him together when the time comes. All right?”

My gut reaction was to laugh him off. After everything he had put me through when we were younger, it was hard to trust him. But I did. And what was more, that connection I’d been trying to ignore, that tug that told me this was more than just sex, intensified.

Something lurched in my stomach. I cared about Klyte. As worried as I was about the future—not only about what was going to happen with Isaac or Dad, but what would happenbetween me and Klyte over the next few years—I still couldn’t admit that I cared about Klyte. I’d cared about him deeply when we were young, and when he ghosted me, I’d tried to pretend otherwise. But I couldn’t ignore my feelings anymore.

I considered saying something. Part of me wanted to. But that timid part of me still screamed at me not to, to keep the words to myself. At least until I got a better idea of how he felt about me.

That didn’t change the fact that I was fully aware of his warmth, that enticing scent of sandalwood and leather as he enveloped me. Something stirred in the pit of my stomach. I took a deep breath, unable to hide the longing rushing through me.

I don’t know if Klyte saw the lust in my eyes or if he was thinking the same thoughts. But one moment, he was several feet away from me, and the next, he had cleared the distance. His hand went to the back of my neck, fingers tangling possessively in my hair as he pressed his lips against mine.

All my emotions—the shock of what my father did, the anger at being kept in the dark, and the fear over what was going to happen with Isaac—were smothered in an instant, replaced with pure desire and need. I pressed myself against him, my hands crawling up his shirt, tracing his firm abs.

Klyte moaned against my lips, his grip on my hair tightening as his other hand snaked up the back of my shirt toward my bra clasp.

“We’re in the kitchen,” I muttered, my protest only half-hearted.

“So?”

The bra was unclasped, and a moment later, my shirt and bra came off as Klyte tossed them to the floor. His eyes rakedup my stomach, and the proprietary look in his eyes made the fire smoldering in the pit of my stomach erupt into flames. One hand went to my left nipple, already stiffening from cool air and arousal. His thumb and fingers pinched and twisted. I gasped, my back arching at the sensation. He grinned.

“I really like getting that reaction out of you,” he growled. His fingers pinched harder as my breathing intensified. “I don’t think you realize how incredibly sexy it is.”

“Jerk,” I muttered.

“You love it,” he growled again. His hands went to my bare waist, and he hoisted me onto the counter. In swift, easy motions, he yanked off my pants and underwear, leaving me naked on the counter, completely exposed to him.

Smirking as he looked me up and down, he wasted no time running a finger down my already-wet slit. I moaned softly as his thumb rested on my clit.

“Freya might come down,” I murmured, but the protest sounded feeble even in my own head. I needed him, and my wolf wanted nothing more than for me to jump him right now. I probably would have if one hand wasn’t gripping my shoulder, holding me firmly in place.

“She won’t,” he promised. “And if she does, then I don’t mind an audience.”

Before I could say anything else, two fingers plunged into me, and any lingering protests died in my throat.

“Do you want me to stop?” he teased. His fingers kept pumping deep inside me as his thumb began playing with my clit, sending me maddeningly close to the edge. Something about it made me feel completely at his mercy as he held me in place. “Or do you care now if your friend comes down?”

“Don’t stop,” I begged. His fingers thrust even deeper, and I cried out, my hips jerking in pleasure as he toyed with me.

My arousal was so potent that I could barely think. All that mattered was him, his body, his cock. My breathing grew ragged as his fingers continued to work their magic. I’d never felt this turned on before, and part of me didn’t want it to stop even as the other part begged for release. My fingers gripped his shoulders tightly, my nails digging into his flesh.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he said into my ear. “Do you want that, baby?”

“Yes,” I panted. It was all I could manage to say. I needed him inside me.

Without waiting for any more confirmation, he took off his pants, exposing his erect cock. But I barely had a chance to admire it before he grabbed my hips, jerked me to the edge of the counter, and speared me with it.

I cried out, my toes curling as he began thrusting. I tried to grind against him as my hips began bucking uncontrollably, wanting him to fill me more and more, but his hands kept me in place. Still, I dragged him closer, biting his collarbone gently as he continued pumping his cock into me. I heard him grunt in pleasure, but he didn’t stop his rhythm.

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