Chapter 23
JESS
Rowan pulls into the cabin’s driveway and kills the engine. Outside, drizzle clings to everything—the windshield, the porch rails, my nerves.
“I’ll get you an umbrella,” he says, already pushing his door open.
“It’s barely raining.” I shove mine open, pretending my pulse isn’t still tripping from the last thirty minutes.
Eli’s beside me with shock and satisfaction written all over his face, and my chest squeezes.
I know from the bits and pieces they all told me that Eli was usually the one left out whenever they brought a woman into their pack. Omegas. Betas. Didn’t matter. Somehow, he always ended up watching from the sidelines while everyone else paired off.
Not this time.
“Eli, come on. We’re not done.” My whole face heats from me being too bold, too much. But I can’t take it back, and I don’t want to. Because watching him, imagining how after Meredith, he was always on the outside looking in—I can’t do that to him. Not when I want him this much.
And it’s not because of what happened in the theater or the car—though God, my body still remembers his touch—but because of the way he looked at me after. Like I’d given him something he’d stopped hoping for.
His sharp, green eyes lift to mine and are unreadable for half a second, then he smiles, slow, almost disbelieving, like he’s been waiting his whole damn life for someone to choose him first.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” My throat’s dry. “I want—”
I stop, because what do you even call this? The way his fingers worked me in a crowded theater, the way he melted under my touch later in the car, the way every nerve in my body still hums for him specifically.
“Jess,” he murmurs, like a warning and a plea all at once.
I shake my head. “Don’t. Don’t talk me out of it.”
Rowan’s already halfway to the porch with Cassian behind him.
It’s just us now.
Eli hesitates only a second before he follows me out of the car. I grab his hand. Bold again, reckless again. His palm is warm, steady, and the way he looks at me makes my stomach swoop.
Inside, the cabin smells faintly of cedar and leftover coffee. The air’s cool, the kind that raises goosebumps even before he touches me.
I turn to face him, still holding his hand. “You don’t have to be careful this time,” I whisper. “I just want you.”
His jaw tightens, eyes darkening. “Jess…”
“Please.” It comes out softer than I mean it to. “I don’t want to think. Just—stay with me. Be with me.”
He searches my face like he’s making sure this isn’t some post-adrenaline mistake I’ll regret tomorrow. Whatever he finds must be enough, because he exhales shakily and nods once.
“If you’re sure.”
Those three words hit low in my stomach. “Yeah.” That’s all I can manage.
He brushes damp hair off my cheek, thumb dragging down to my mouth. My breath catches; the room tilts.
And just like that, the air between us shifts—no more hesitation, no witnesses, just gravity, pulling us where we were always headed.
I take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.
The door clicks shut behind us. Rain hums against the window, and the room smells faintly of my shampoo from this morning. Eli stops just inside, shirt buttoned except for the top three buttons, looking at me like he’s memorizing this.
“You sure?” he whispers.
Instead of answering, I close the space between us and grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him down until we’re breathing the same air.
“I’m sure,” I tell him, and then I kiss him like I mean it—like I’ve been meaning it since the theater, since the car, since maybe before I even knew his name when I first saw him at Nexus.
His hands find my waist, hesitant at first, then certain. When he kisses me back, it’s nothing like the careful restraint from earlier.
His mouth is hot, hungry, and his fingers slide under my shirt, finding bare skin. I gasp against his lips, and he takes it as the invitation it is—deepening the kiss, walking me backward toward the bed until my knees hit the mattress.
As his lips move hungrily against mine, I feel a surge of need, of longing that I can’t ignore.
I want him—his touch, his closeness, his everything. And he eases me toward the mattress. He kisses me, and I thread my fingers through his hair, wanting to feel all of him.
Then he breaks the kiss, pulling away to start unbuttoning his shirt, and I can’t take my eyes off him.
“If you keep doing that slow, I’m gonna rip it,” I warn, half-laughing, half-shaking.
He barely gets a couple buttons undone before I grab the hem and haul the shirt over his head, desperate for skin. His muscles flex under my touch.
“God, you’re warm,” I breathe, fingertips tracing the lines I can’t stop following.
When my nails scrape lightly over his nipples, he hisses, his cock twitching against his zipper and my thigh.
“You’re all mine tonight,” I whisper, more to myself than to him, but he heard. His chuckle sends a fresh wave of heat pooling between my thighs.
His lips are on mine, hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, deep stroke that has my knees weakening. I moan into his mouth, my hands gripping his shoulders, my body arching into his like I could crawl inside his skin.
As he kisses me, his fingers find the zipper of my shorts, then he slides them down my hips. Next, he gently pulls back, lifting my crop top over my head.
I stand here in nothing but my lace panties and bra, the cool air kissing my heated skin, but Eli’s gaze is hotter. He drops to his knees in front of me, his hands sliding up my thighs, his breath warm against my stomach as he presses a kiss just above my navel.
“Pretty sure I’m blushing everywhere,” I mumble, mostly to the ceiling.
He grins without looking up, and my pulse forgets how to behave.
“Let me make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating against my skin.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak, my fingers tangling in his hair as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs with agonizing slowness.
The first graze of his stubble against my inner thigh makes me gasp, my hips jerking forward involuntarily.
Then his mouth is on me, his tongue flat and hot as he licks a slow stripe up my slit.
“Fuck—Eli,” I whimper, my grip on his hair tightening, but he doesn’t rush. He takes his time, kissing and nipping at my inner thighs, his breath ghosting over my aching clit until I’m trembling, my body strung tight.
When his mouth finally—fucking finally—finds my pussy, I cry out, my legs shaking.
He trails his hands up my body, pulling the cups down from my bra until my boobs pop out, and he gathers them in his fingers. Stroking them, pinching my nipples, and making mewls drag from deep inside me.
His tongue laps at me, slow and deliberate, and I’m fucking wrecked. He’s everywhere—licking, sucking, teasing—and I’m drowning in the wet heat of his mouth. My hands clutch his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans against me; the vibration rolls through me.
“Fuck—don’t stop,” I beg, my voice breaking.
He doesn’t. His tongue swirls around my entrance, teasing, before he sucks my clit between his lips. The pressure is perfect, relentless, and my hips buck against his face, my body throbbing with need.
Then he slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right, and I scream, my body shattering as I come.
Once my soul returns to my body, he stands slowly, his lips glistening with my juices, and I don’t give him a chance to recover.
My fingers fumble with his belt, desperate to free him, and when I finally do, I gasp.
His cock is thick and heavy, his veins pulsing under my touch, and I lick my lips, my mouth watering.
I mean, yeah, I touched him in the car, but it was dark, and I think he’s even harder now.
“Jess,” he groans, his head falling back as I sink to my knees, my tongue flicking out to taste him. Salt and musk explode on my taste buds, and I moan, taking him deeper, my lips stretching around his girth.
His hands grab my head, not guiding, just holding on as I hollow my cheeks, sucking him slow and deep.
“Fuck, your mouth—” His hips jerk, his cock hitting the back of my throat, and I swallow around him, my nails digging into his thighs.
His cock throbs in my mouth, his body tensing as he tries to hold back. But I don’t want him to hold back. I want him to lose control, to give me everything he’s got.
His grip on my hair tightens, a low growl rumbling from his chest. I want to push him over the edge, to make him shatter like he did me. I graze my teeth lightly along his shaft, and his grip on my head tightens, his hips jerking forward.
Doubling my efforts, I bob my head faster, my hands working in tandem with my mouth.
“Jess, I’m close—” he warns, but I don’t pull back. I want this, want him. His hips start to move, fucking my mouth in earnest, and warmth floods my core, my body responding to his loss of control.
“If…If you keep doing…that, I’m going to come.”
I pull back with a wet pop, then drag my tongue slowly up his shaft, my eyes lock on his.
“Not yet.” I stand, pressing a kiss to his chest.
His heart hammers under my lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“I want you inside me.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands are on my hips, lifting me like I weigh nothing. He lays me down on the bed, pulling my legs around him, the head of his cock pressing against my slick entrance.
Then he sinks his cock into me.
“Holy Christ, Eli.”
My walls stretch around him, the burn of it delicious, my breath catching as he fills me inch by inch.
“Fuck, you feel so amazing,” he says, as he pulls nearly all the way out of me, then pushes back in. His thumb brushes my nipples, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my clit.
“Harder,” I demand, and he growls, his body pinning me to the bed. The mattress creaks under us as he drives into me, his cock pounding my pussy with deep thrusts that have me so close to another climax I’m arching my back to take him deeper.
“Eli—fuck, I’m close,” I gasp, my nails raking down his back, my legs wrapping tighter around his waist.
He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, his cock swelling inside me.
“Come for me,” he growls, his voice rough, his teeth grazing my neck, and that is all it takes. My orgasm rips through me, my pussy clenching around him as he buries himself deep, his cock pulsing, filling me with hot, thick spurts.
He collapses over me, but keeps his arms holding up most of his body to keep from crushing me. My skin is slick with sweat, my body humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. His arms wrap around me, his heart pounds against mine.
Lazily, I draw circles on his shoulder, my mind drifting. “So… five stars?”
He laughs, low and wrecked. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah.” I kiss his collarbone, and he shivers. “You like that.”
“Yes, I do.” He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest, his stubble scratching my skin as he kisses my mouth, my forehead, my cheeks.
Eli pulls me against him, turning us onto our sides, still facing each other. His body relaxes as he holds me.
First Cassian, and now Eli.
A smile tugs at my mouth. Never thought I’d be part of a pack. Never thought I’d fall for a Beta—much less a couple of Alphas. Yet here I am, wanting this. Them.
It should scare the hell out of me, but it doesn’t. It feels right. Like I belong here, tangled up with them.
Or maybe that’s just the afterglow talking—euphoria and way too many orgasms in twenty-four hours.