Page 64 of My Unhinged Alphas
My fingers brush her forearm, her elbow, then up her arm, dragging along her skin until I reach her shoulder. I pause there, watching her face. Waiting.
Her lips part.
Her chest rises.
No protest.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “That’s what I thought.”
I let my hand slide from her shoulder to her neck, not squeezing, just resting there—warm, deliberate, grounding. My thumb brushes under her jaw, tilting her face up toward mine.
She lets me.
God, she lets me.
“Tell me something, Lena,” I say softly, dragging my knuckles down her throat, feeling the way she swallows under my touch. “You always fall apart this fast, or am I special?”
“I’m not falling apart,” she says. Her voice gives her away.
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Sweetheart, your pulse is sprinting.” My thumb presses lightly over it, just enough to prove the point.
She inhales sharply.
There it is again. That reaction.
Addictive.
I slide my hand lower, brushing the curve of her collarbone, then just beneath it—teasing the edge of her shirt withoutpushing further. Not yet. Letting her feel it. Letting heranticipateit.
“Relax,” I murmur. “If I wanted to take something, I wouldn’t be asking.”
She goes still for half a second.
Then—she leans in.
Barely, but enough. Enough that I know.
My mouth curves. “Good girl,” I whisper, and that does it—her breath breaks completely this time.
I move in slow. Close enough that she can feel my breath, but not touching her lips yet. I let it hang there, the tension stretching tight between us, giving her one last chance to pull away.
She doesn’t. Her fingers curl into my shirt instead.
Yeah.
I close the distance.
The kiss starts slow—deliberate, controlled, my mouth brushing hers like I’m testing how much she’ll take before she breaks.
She melts faster than she expects.
I feel it.
The second her lips part, I deepen it, not rough yet, just enough to pull a soft sound out of her that goes straight to my head. My hand tightens at her neck, not choking, just holding her there, keeping her exactly where I want her.
She kisses me back.
I pull back just enough to look at her, my thumb still resting under her jaw, my other hand sliding to her waist, holding her steady. “Tell me something else,” I murmur, voice lower now. “You do this often? Let strangers touch you like this?”
