Chapter 120: _ Ours
Warning: Mature Content Ahead
"You’re..." Her voice is ragged.
"...ours," Grayson finishes for her, his lips curving into a wolfish grin.
Heidi jerks back, her eyes blazing like twin moons on fire. "I’m not yours, you jackasses. You don’t own me. You never will."
Grayson smirks, because gods, she is beautiful when she lies. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her wrapper sliding further down her shoulder like it wants to betray her. Every breath she takes carries her hot, wolf-rich scent, tinged with that dizzying sweetness he hasn’t smelled on anyone else.
And beneath her words and growl, there’s something her body screams louder than her lips ever could.
She’s in heat.
His wolf purrs like smoke in the back of his head. "She’s ours, brother. Listen to her body, not her mouth. Her wolf howls for us. Her skin begs. Even her damn heartbeat chants our names."
Oh, damn right he hears all she’s trying to keep hidden, all right.
Heidi folds her arms across her chest, gripping the edges of the slipping fabric like she can armor herself in a scrap of cloth. "I’ll do this with you only because my wolf... because my body..." she hisses through her teeth, glaring like she wants to burn them alive... "is howling for it. But don’t you ever think it means you own me."
Pfft.
She’s so wrong. If she lets them do this, they’ll own her. Morgan and he, they wouldn’t hold back – Grayson thinks.
Her defiance is a blade she sharpens with her words. But that’s fine. He’s always liked the sharp things best.
Morgan’s hands close about her breasts. "We’ll take either. Your wolf, your body... your hate. Doesn’t matter, dolcezza. It all tastes the same to us."
Watching his brother tenderly grip her pinkish little melons and how her chest heaves to welcome his hands awakens an unquenchable thirst in Grayson.
He let her go and begin to circle her again like he could not help himself. His gaze drags down her body, memorizing every damp curve, every tremor in them, and every flash of resistance in her stance. Gods, she’s electric.
"You think you can bargain with us, Castell?" he whistles. "Think you can spit insults, call us names, and still set the rules while your wolf is practically begging to be pinned beneath us?"
"I’m not begging," she snaps.
"Oh, sweetheart..." Grayson lets his hand ghost near her wrist without touching. "Your body begs even when your lips don’t."
Her chin tips up in that stubborn tilt that makes him want to ruin her composure entirely. "You’re delusional."
"Maybe," he admits, his grin widening, "but if I’m delusional, why aren’t you running?"
Her mouth opens, maybe to retort or deny, but nothing comes out of it except more silence and that furious flush climbing her neck.
Grayson’s wolf purrs. "She’s trapped. Not by us, but by herself. Her wolf knows. She’s dying for this."
Morgan releases her breasts, brushing his hands close enough that his breath stirs the fine hairs at her nape. "Careful, little wolf. Keep lying to yourself, and we’ll make a hobby out of proving you wrong."
Grayson sees Heidi stiffens, torn between spinning to face Morgan and keeping her eyes locked on Grayson. That storm in her gaze is addictive, a war fought entirely for his entertainment.
Grayson lowers his voice. "So which is it, Heidi? Hate-fueled surrender... or wolf-fueled need? Either way, we win."
Her glare sharpens. "You’re not winning anything."
But when he slowly reaches out and trails a single finger along the bare line of her shoulder where the wrapper has slipped all the way down, she doesn’t flinch away or shove him. Doesn’t even breathe.
The contact is light, but the reaction is instant. Her pupils blow wide and her skin warms beneath his touch like she’s burning from the inside out.
Grayson feels his own pulse stutter, heat licking through his veins. He shouldn’t feel this undone by such a small victory. But it’s not small with her.
Tris growls approvingly. "She’s fire, and you’ve got your hands in the flames. Burn, brother. Burn with her."
Grayson leans closer, cupping her heart-shaped ass that begs a squeeze. "You don’t have to admit it, Castell. Not yet. But your wolf already has."
His palm fits her perfectly. Too perfectly. Like her body was carved to slot against his grip, like a puzzle piece he didn’t know he was missing until now. Heat pulses under his hand, sharp as wildfire, and Heidi reacts like he’s poured gasoline over her wolf and lit the match.
Her gasp is sharp, but goddess — it’s music. That little noise betrays her far more than her stubborn lips ever will.
His grin tilts. "Got you."
With one tug from Morgan, the wrapper sings as it meets the floor, revealing her body in all its feminine glory. Grayson’s mouth parts as he takes in her full, curved hips and the delicate slope of her stomach. Every breath she takes makes her breasts rise, their pink nipples hardening under his gaze.
"She burns," Tris buzzes inside his skull. "She’s ours. Stop teasing. Take her already."
Oh, he wants to. He wants to so badly it makes his teeth ache.
With that, his head lowers, his green eyes fixed on her breasts. He feels it... The desperate anticipation that runs through her. His hot breath ghosts over her skin, and her nipples, those betraying little things, are instantly harder than they ever are.
"I said it... You slutty little wolf is dying for even a breath of this."
His mouth finally closes over one of her nipples, hearing a gasp escape her lips, and a tear runs down her cheek that turns to a river as pure, unadulterated pleasure floods her senses. It’s too much. The sensation is so intense that it brings her to her knees. Her hands fly to Grayson’s shoulders, not to push him away, but to keep herself from falling.
And Grayson... oh, Grayson would kill to make this moment last forever. This moment when his head explodes.