The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter 239

Chapter Two Hundred Thirty–Nine

ROSE

Every single particle of my being is facing with awareness when Bartlett sits me on his lap. The truck we are in is a newer model and definitely roomy enough for the two of us, but when I try to move to grab my own sent, he closes his arms around my body and I’m pressed tightly up against him. For a moment I simply stare at the side of his face. The dark caramel tan that evenly coats his flesh is set off by the brightness in his jewel blue eyes. Thick, dark lashes fan out beneath his brow, much longer than should be considered fair any man to have. The punch of his jawline is barely hidden behind the scruff of his beard. A beard that is the exact same medium shaus of brown as his hair. Like a mingle of butterscotch curls and chocolate, the locks look so soft that I’m dying to run my fingers through them. He is gorgeous even with half of his face covered and for a moment I wonder what he looks like behind all that fuzz.

Tearing my eyes away, my gaze rushes over the winding tattoos that twist up his forearms to disappear beneath his shirt. Peeking out once again along his collarbone and up the back of his neck. I am dying to see the rest of it. I want to know how dark his tattoos are beneath his shirt. What do they represent? What do they mean? Do they stand for something special? Someone special?

I want to

actually know him.

If I hadn’t been in danger when we met, would he have even noticed me? Probably not. But i would have noticed him anywhere.

There is no denying it now. I am one hundred and fifty percent crushing on this handsome hero that’s holding me. The way it feels to have his strong arms banded around me is bewitching. I can almost pretend that we’re a couple. That we’re not just simply sexy, tattooed God and boring, average Rose – but we’re a unit. A pairing. A man and his woman on their way to the docks.

God, wouldn’tE

I that

be nice.

Stop being such a dork, Rose.

Pretending? Really? You are eighteen.

And a virgin

way worse than that. I’ve never even

suddenly worried that I may be crushing him beneath my enormous weight. Okay, so Im not that big, but I’m thicker than most. I’ve definitely been labeled a fatass a time

that might be out there, but I can’t see past the quickly thickening fog. We’re close now, I

is he

look at him. Instead, I simply sit

dark of the cab, with the black suede seating and limo tinted windows, I should feel a bit braver. I should at least have the courage to acknowledge him. But I don’t. My breath freezes in my chest,

fingers trace the outline of my slit over the denim of my jeans and air whooshes into my chest as I gasp. A whimper escapes me, my clit pulsing. Beating with enough vigor to have a heartbeat of its very own. Oh my God that feels so good.

1/3

Fri, Nov

Hundred Thirty–Nine

Thirty–Ning

every light stroke

I’m

hand claws at his wrist and I hear him inhale sharply before he reaches over to peel my offending fingers

Shit, my bad.

hair falls over my face like a curtain, hiding me from his eyes

boldly and placing it over the front zipper of his jeans. Something thick and as

s to a

fingers between my thighs press harder against my clit and I tremble, my legs separating wantonly as the truck suddenly comes stop. That was quick. Are we

my hair and 1 feel his

You are to

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