Page 27 of Puck Your Charity

Olive’s eyes fly open. The hazy, drug-like trance of the pheromones vanishes, replaced by a flash of fury.

She shoves both of her hands against my chest.

"Stop." Olive stands up so fast her knee knocks the wooden slats.

I hold my hands up, my heart racing. "Olive. Wait."

"You think you can play me?" Her voice shakes with furious, biting anger. She points a finger right in my face. "You think you can sit here, smile with those perfect teeth, and manipulate my hormones into submission?"

"I didn't manipulate anything." I try to recover my smooth tone, but my voice sounds rough and frantic. "You felt the connection."

"I felt a biological reaction!" She grabs her purse off the bench. "You used your scent to bypass my logic. You fed me a line of bullshit about a private wing to get me back to your house. You plan to lock me in a bedroom until I surrender to your pack."

"That isn't true." I stand up, towering over her. "The offer stands. No strings attached."

"Bullshit!" Olive glares at me. Her brown eyes burn with intense, unyielding hatred. "I'm not some puck bunny you can sweet-talk into your bed, Lawrence. I have a brain. I see what you tried to do. You think your charm fixes everything."

The insult hits me like a slap in the face.

She sees right through the playboy facade and recognizes the calculated moves. My entire strategy crumbled the second I let my instincts take the wheel. I got greedy for a kiss, and I blew the entire operation.

"Don't ever follow me again." Olive steps away from the bench. "I prefer the creepy brother-in-law over a pack of manipulative liars. You can all rot in hell."

She turns on her heel and marches down the paved path.

I stand frozen in the middle of the empty park. The wind rustles through the oak tree above my head.

My hands fall to my sides as my chest aches with a strange, profound tightness.

My charm always works. A smile, a smooth compliment, and a touch of Alpha pheromones never fail to get me what I want. Women fall over themselves to spend five minutes in my company.

But Olive walked away. She rejected my money, protection, and charm.

I stare at the empty dirt path. The playboy mask slips, leaving a raw, unfamiliar desperation in its place. For the first time in my life, my smooth talking failed me. Earning her trust requires a hell of a lot more than a pretty smile, and I have no idea how to proceed.

Chapter 9

My spine arches off the plush mattress. Massive, rough hands grip my bare hips, holding me in place. The crisp scent of thunderstorms fills my lungs, drowning out every rational thought in my head. Finn towers over me. His auburn hair falls across his forehead. His warm brown eyes burn with a feral, possessive fire.

He buries his face in the crook of my neck. His teeth scrape against my collarbone. A desperate, ragged moan rips from my throat.

My thighs spread wide. A slick, wet mess coats my skin. My body aches for the brutal stretch of his thick cock. I need his knot to fill the agonizing void inside my pelvis.

A second scent washes over the bed. Crushed black pepper and bright citrus mingle with the ozone.

Lawrence leans over my other side. His broad shoulders block out the ceiling. His golden skin gleams with a fine layer of sweat. He traces the line of my jaw with his nose. His lips brush against the corner of my mouth, teasing a kiss I crave more than oxygen.

"You smell incredible." Lawrence drops his voice into a dark, vibrating rumble. "You smell like you belong to us."

Finn slides a thick finger deep inside my dripping center.

“Finn.” My hips buck upward, chasing the friction. The pleasure hits like a freight train, blinding me with white-hot heat. My wet pussy clenches and spasms around his finger.

My eyes snap open.

The plush mattress vanishes. The towering Alphas disappear.

I stare at the popcorn ceiling of my sister's suburban spare bedroom. The stale smell of old protein powder replaces the intoxicating aroma of ozone and black pepper. The lumpy twin mattress digs into my spine.