His Trouble Maker

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

JESSICA

“Grayson-”

“Shut up,” he growls.

I shove at his chest–hard–but it’s like pushing against a wall of muscle wrapped in rage. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he catches both of my wrists in one hand–fast, rough–and yanks them up over my head, pinning them against the cold

metal shelf behind me.

The shelf rattles violently. Something tumbles off–a can? A box? I don’t know. It crashes to the floor like thunder, but I barely hear it.

I’m too busy trying to breathe.

His other hand grips my jaw–firm, possessive–and angles my face to the side like he’s done it a thousand times in his head.

“Stop talking,” he snarls.

Then he licks me.

God.

From the curve of my neck all the way up to just under my ear–slow, wet, claiming–and I swear I feel it in every nerve, every fucking inch of me.

I shiver.

My stomach flips.

Heat coils low–deep and fast and wrong.

“God, you taste…” he groans, voice wrecked. “Fuck.”

His mouth drags back down–kissing, sucking, biting–and I can’t even think straight. It’s too much.

“You don’t get it, do you,” he mutters into my skin. Another kiss. Another bite.

My fingers dig into the metal shelf behind me like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. “I’ve waited for this,” he groans. “Dreamed of this mouth. This neck.”

He angles me again, dragging his tongue over my pulse, and I swear I moan like he just touched between my legs. My breath stutters. My hips twitch.

I’m not even trying to hide it.

“Grayson-

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12:43 Wed, 30 Jul Gr

Chapter 11

“So soft,” he rasps. “So fuckin‘ sweet.”

His hand slides under my shirt. Rough fingers against bare skin. I gasp again, my body arching into him on instinct.

“I hate you,” I whisper.

His tongue slides up my throat again. “Lie better,” he growls.

blink. Hard. The memory rips away like it burned me–like my body still feels him pressed against mine, mouth hot and filthy against my skin.

Asshole.

at the edge of it like a goddamn

Grayson fucking Westwood.

lap,”

Sharp. In front of

I freeze.

know half the pack’s watching now. Warriors. Trainees. Even that one she–wolf who keeps batting her lashes at him like he’s not

turning with fire in my

Seven.

are shaking. My lungs are begging. My shirt is soaked. And my pride? It’s already

jogs up beside

to piss him off earlier,” he

glare. “I didn’t do

sky groans

clouds churning like the gods are watching this mess and seriously considering

air shifts–wet,

more, Wilkinson,” Grayson

turn slowly, chest heaving, legs trembling, blood hot in my ears. “I’ve done

Then make it eight

2/0

12:43 Wed, 30 Jul

Chapter 11

his order right up

example of what a

he probably meant them to. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. I freeze where I stand.

My chest burns. My eyes start

Not here. Not in front of all these

said I was his–acted like I was something he wanted, something worth chasing. And now he’s standing there like I’m just some pathetic trainee he gets to humiliate

under my skin. I won’t give him the satisfaction. I won’t let him see me break. I straighten my spine,

and laced with

a word, before

Thunder rolls across the field like a warning, and the first drop of rain slaps against my cheek like a second insult. Weak omega. His voice keeps echoing inside

“Fucking weak?”

round the far edge of the field, lungs on fire, heart

“Fuck you, Grayson!”

care who hears. I hope he hears. I hope the whole goddamn pack hears. Let them watch me run–let

it.

Weak?

weak after shoving his tongue down my throat like I was the only thing he ever fucking wanted. After gripping my wrists like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss me

I’m

Bite me, Alpha.

Better yet–choke on it.

through a puddle so hard water

outrun the sound of his voice. The heat still between my legs. The burn in my throat

Wed, 30

Chapter 11

I let him touch

I liked it.

me like some pathetic, mouthy little omega

show him weak. I’ll show him fucking

his face

in his mouth after

burn. I blink hard, once, twice, don’t let the tears fall. I won’t

Not today.

when my thighs are still clenching

snarl under my

comes near me again–if he even looks at me–something growls behind

My breath snags.

mud sucking at my boot like the forest itself just told me