His Trouble Maker

JESSICA

“I want you, Jess… and I’m so fucking tired of pretending I don’t.”

W–What did he just said?

Did Grayson Westwood–Alpha asshole, my nightmare, the boy I’ve hated breathing near me since forever–just say he wants me?

Me.

Jessica Wilkinson.

My lashes fluttered like maybe blinking harder would reset reality. It didn’t. He was still there. Still looking at me like that. Still standing in front of me with that stupid, wrecked look on his face.

Gods.

He was serious.

“You hate me,” I rasped – because I needed it. I needed him to say it. Needed it sharp. Ugly. Easier to swallow than whatever the hell this was.

But he just huffed – sharp and bitter, like I’d wounded him.

His jaw clenched – that hard, furious line he always had when he was two seconds from snapping.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Hate you so bad I dream about you.”

Dream? Sure, he gets dreams. You know what I get? Nightmares. Of him – standing in the middle of the clearing while the entire pack watched – shouting my name like it was

shouting my name like it was a curse and dragging my reputation through the fucking mud. But yeah. Tell me more about your little dreams, Grayson.

“Jess “he stepped closer.

Nope. I backed up fast, boots dragging hard across the wood floor.

“Don’t.” My palm flew up like that could stop him. “Don’t fucking come near me.”

“What the hell is your problem, Jess?” Grayson’s voice wasn’t calm anymore. It was a snarl. Rough. Sharp. Furious like I was the one ruining his night.

Fuck him.

I ripped my wrist out of his grip so hard my shoulder ached

it was about to explode.

–

wouldn’t care, not when my whole chest

was about to punch him in his too–perfect jaw. “You’re asking me what the hell my problem

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with it. I shoved him back with both hands. It didn’t move him an inch. So I stepped right the fuck into his space anyway–fire in my throat, pulse a riot – and jammed my finger hard against

to the face. “You’ve always been my problem!” I jabbed my finger harder, chasing him like I wanted the fight. “From the second you opened your goddamn mouth, from the second you made it your personal hobby to humiliate

ཅ

I stop. Fuck. Fuck.

Stupid, stupid, weak.

I sniffed hard

–

face like that could erase the whole fucking

low now, raw. “You ruined me, Grayson. Every fucking chance you got. Every trial. Every training. Every goddamn time

clenched so tight I could

“Jess-”

shaky, but gods, still furious. “You practically told me I’m

wanted to break you,” he

Grayson. You didn’t just want to break me–you wanted to watch me break. Wanted front row seats while you ripped me apart

His jaw locked.

Good.

stepped right back into his space

–

to toe with the big, bad Alpha who thought

don’t know what you are?” My laugh was pure poison. “You’re

That got him.

body went tight, every line of him

untouchable, like everybody’s supposed to fucking kneel just because you bark loud enough -newsflash, Westwood–I’d

heaved–breathing rough,

“Jess-

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step. “Fuck you. Fuck your ego. Fuck your alpha bullshit. You don’t get to treat me like dirt for years and then look at me like–like I’m yours just because you

eyes burned–gold and furious