Page 11 of Wraith’s Betrayal

"I shouldn't have said that."

"No," she said, shifting to face me fully. "You should have said it two weeks ago. Do you have any idea what it's like wanting someone who keeps pulling away? Who looks at you like you're everything but won't touch you?"

"I'm trying to protect you."

"From what? From feeling wanted? From being happy?" She moved closer. "I don't need protection from you. I need you to stop fighting this thing between us."

The air thickened. Her hand came up to my chest, palm flat against my racing heart.

"Your pulse is racing," she observed.

"You know why."

"Tell me."

"Raven—"

"Tell me." She rose up on her knees, bringing our faces closer. "I need to hear it. Two weeks of mixed signals, of you watching me when you think I don't notice, of this careful distance that's killing us both. Tell me you want me."

"You know I do." The admission ripped out of me. "Want you so bad I can't fucking think straight. Can't work. Can't sleep. You're in my head, under my skin, in every breath."

"Then stop fighting it."

"Your brother⁠—"

"Isn't here." Her fingers tangled in the hair at my nape. "For once in your life, stop thinking about everyone else. What do YOU want?"

"You." The word came out raw, desperate. "Just you. Only you. From the second you walked into that clubhouse."

"Then take me."

I kissed her.

All the reasons I shouldn't evaporated the moment our mouths met. She made this soft, needy sound that destroyed my control. My hands found her waist, lifting her onto the kitchen counter, stepping between her thighs. The position put her at the perfect height, her legs wrapping around my hips, locking me against her.

She kissed like she'd been starving for it—tongue sweeping into my mouth, teeth nipping at my lower lip, hands fisting in my shirt hard enough to tear. I kissed her back with two weeks of pent-up frustration, one hand tangled in her hair while the other gripped her hip, pulling her to the edge of the counter.

She ground against me through our clothes, the friction making us both groan. My cock strained against my jeans, pressed exactly where she needed me. Her hands slipped under my shirt, nails raking down my abs, making my hips jerk forward involuntarily.

"God, Wraith," she moaned against my mouth, her head falling back as I kissed down her throat. I sucked at the spot where her neck met her shoulder, definitely leaving a mark, and she clenched her thighs around me. "I need⁠—"

"I know what you need." My hand slid up her thigh, the pencil skirt riding up as my thumb traced higher, feeling the heat radiating through the thin fabric. She bucked against my hand, desperate for more contact. "Been thinking about this. About getting my hands on you. My mouth on you."

"Bedroom," she gasped, grinding harder against me. "Now. Please."

"Fuck, yes⁠—"

My phone rang. Not just any ring—the emergency tone I'd set for club business.

We froze, breathing hard, still pressed together. Her lips were swollen, eyes glazed with want, and it took everything in me not to ignore the phone.

"Don't answer it," she pleaded, rolling her hips against me again.

But duty was ingrained too deep. "I have to."

"Wraith, need you at the clubhouse. Now." Viper's voice, deadly serious. "Bring Raven."

"What's wrong?"