Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 286

Ch. 56

Cassandra

Jack comes back to walk me out at the end of day. It’s really becoming a thing he does now-him deciding he’s in my orbit and is acting accordingly without making a declaration of it. We walk through the corridor, talking about something of no importance, and we stop at the exterior door.

I turn around. He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek the way he always does. And I’m not sure what makes this time different from all the others, but I find myself wanting more.

This time I turn my head and brush my lips against his. It’s soft, innocent, light as a feather. But it feels really nice so I do it again.

“Cassie?” He leans back just far enough to look in my eyes and I read the question in his.

“Kiss me, Jack.” I say in answer. “For real this time.”

He doesn’t hesitate, crushing his lips to mine. Jack kisses me like he can’t get enough, nipping and licking, dominating. He doesn’t wait for permission before slipping his tongue inside and tangling it with mine.

“Fuck, you taste incredible. Just like I knew you would.” He whispers against my lips before going back to devouring me.

“MMmm.” Is all I can manage when he slides his fingers through my hair, pulling my head back until he angles me just the way he wants me.

It’s all consuming the way this man displays his need for me without reservation. My legs shake and my panties feel damp. I can’t remember the last time that happened. Well, I can, but I shove that thought away.

A deep rumble bubbles up in his chest and he wraps his arms around me tighter. He pulls me against him until there’s no space between us and I can feel the evidence of just how much he liked the kiss pressing against my belly.

He grinds his erection against my pussy and I couldn’t stop the little whimper I make if I tried. It’s really been far too long since I’ve felt anything close to arousal and I forgot how good it feels.

But it’s over far too soon, Jack slowing things down before it can go too far. When he finally pulls away, his face is jubilant. “Tomorrow?” is all he says.

“Tomorrow,” I agree with a shy smile.

He pulls me in for one more brief kiss. Then he goes.

I watch him walk away. Three seconds, maybe four, before I register what’s in my peripheral vision.

Noah.

He’s at the end of the corridor. He was coming toward us–or had been. Now he’s stopped. And he’s watching.

His expression-I try to read it in the half-second before it’s gone. Something that isn’t the controlled neutrality he defaults to. Something that crosses his face and gets replaced, deliberately, the way you close a door before someone can see what’s behind it.

He holds my gaze for a moment. Then he moves. Continues past without a word, shoulders set and his jaw clenched, the posture of a man who has decided not to react to something.

I stand at the door. Frozen. And try to make sense of what was on his face in that half-second. I stand there for far

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too long before I go back inside. And I still haven’t figured it out.

e next morning he comes through the administrative office. I know it’s him from the footsteps. But I keep my eyes on my work. I don’t look at him. I can’t.

He handles what he came for-a file he needs, two questions about the eastern supplier schedule. Efficient. Cold even. I answer his questions, give him the file he needs. And I wait for the footsteps to go back toward the door.

At the door, he stops. “Jack Morrow,” he says. Just the name. But it’s the tone he uses, like he’s saying it through gritted teeth.

I finally risk a look at him but he’s looking at a spot somewhere between me and the wall-not at me directly. He’s a good warrior,” he says. “Solid. Reliable.” He says it in the tone of a man who has chosen each word and is using them precisely. “Good track record. The pack respects him.”

“Is there a point?” I probably shouldn’t snap at the Alpha whose mercy I depend upon but I think I already know the answer to my question, and although I probably deserve it, I don’t like it.

“My point, Cassandra, is he deserves better than your bullshit. And we both know bullshit is all you’re capable of. Don’t fuck with him.”

He delivers his warning and he leaves.

I drop into my chair as my knees give out and press the heels of my hands against my eyes as the tears well. The bond has a stranglehold on my throat and I feel like I can’t breathe. And it’s not fucking fair.

Why do I even care what my fated mate thinks? He’s moved on and he clearly doesn’t care about me? Why am I the one who has to suffer in this alone?

Maybe I’m not. Maybe I just choose to be. But I’m not going to do it anymore.

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