Traded To The Lycan King by MG Wattsons

Sparks explode through my body, flooding me with warmth as my heart pounds in my ears. Hayes remains still and my stomach drops out, my cheeks heating in embarrassment and disappointment before I pull away. I stumble backward, my hand coming over my mouth

as Hayes reaches out and catches me.

"I'm sorry." I murmur, looking everywhere and anywhere but at him.

"Kyra." Hayes says softly,

"Shit, shit, I am sorry. I don't know what came over me." It's a lie. I know exactly what came over me. The damn mate bond and the memories of how much I cared for him. It was idiotic and I realize that now that I am in my right mind.

"Kyra," He says again, his arm yanking me to him as my eyes grow wide and I let out a confused squawk.

"Uh," I look up at him, feeling the air fade away around me as I watch his eyes scan my face and land on my lips before they crash into mine.

Electricity surges from my lips to my fingertips as I melt into him, forgetting everything else. He is harsh and hungry as his hand slides up my face, guiding me, no, holding me in place. His calloused thumb rubs over my cheek, my lips parting as I slip my tongue out to taste him.

Hayes' mouth opens, his teeth catching my tongue before releasing it and chasing me with his own. My arms slip up and over his neck, his hands moving as he holds me tight and kisses me like he wants to consume me. Butterflies dance in my stomach, my limbs feeling like they melt on the spot if I can't have more of him. I need more of him.

He breaks away in a flash, his heated breath panting over my lips as I lift my lust laden eyes to meet his. There is nothing but desire and unbridled need on his face, no regret or hesitation and yet, he presses his lips together and leans back.

"I need you to stop." He says, his voice a husky growl that brings an uncontrolled shiver up my spine.

"Why?" I whisper, leaning into him as I press my head to his chest, trying to catch my breath.

"Because I can't," He whispers. His hand glides up my side, over my arm and across my shoulder. Then he tickles over my skin with his fingers caressing over my collar bone before he gently places his hand over my throat and up my chin, lifting my head. "Say no, or I will not stop."

"I thought you hated me," I whisper, that snarky part of me unable to remain hidden.

to do with this," he murmurs before he captures

I imagined they would be with how sharp his tongue is. But I relish the way he doesn't hold back. The way his lips may be soft, but his grip on my neck and around my

it matters. What matters is the way he fingers at the hem of the oversized shorts I am wearing. My breathing hitches when his hand slides up my thigh, softly rubbing my skin, his fingers brushing along the outside of my hip where, had circumstances been different, I would have the line of

the side, his lips moving to my chin, then my neck as he nuzzles and presses kisses to my soft flesh. I drag my hands to his chest, resting them gently as I roll my hips toward his hand, practically begging for more than

"Mmm," I hum.

for a moment and I want to whine, but his lips find mine

I gasp when my back presses against

whispers, breaking away to press his

own pleasured groan making me sink into him deeper. My whole world feels like it is shifting on its axis. Everything I thought I knew seems to disappear as he rolls his hips into mine and

gasp along with his every movement. I can feel pleasure mounting, the way it seems to build steam and makes my toes curl before I throw my head back,

unable to say his name with any more force than a breath. "I'm

as if he is dragging me onto him

down before he buries his head

"Fuck, Leandra...yes...fuuuuck." He groans.

throbbing and my chest burning. It shouldn't hurt this much. I should understand that she means something to him. After all, I had

the woods. But then again, maybe my mistake is that I assumed

my eyes as

ne?

my head away and gently press against his chest, disconnected us on too many levels before I stumble to the

what he did? Who he called me

he asks, concern filling

I say, clearing my

it and tie it back up, just looking for ways to buy myself time before having to look at him. "Was I too rough?" He asks, and I

He frowns at me, his hand on his hips as he tries to read

bickering. But I can't...what I want is space,