Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 301

Ch. 71

Noah

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After dinner, Piper and I end up in my room. Does it make me an asshole, taking her to bed when my thoughts are so unsettled, full of another woman, if I’m honest? Probably. But it’s clear she wants me. And if I turned her down, I’d have to explain why and talking is the last thing I want to do right now.

Falling into bed with Piper is easy, almost routine. Her hands in my hair. My mouth finding the curve of her jaw, the soft space below her ear that makes her breath catch. She pulls me in with the warmth of her plant body, submitting to me beautifully.

I lose myself in her.

I give her everything she deserves–attentive and sweet then passionate and rough in equal measure. She arches into me and screams my name and I hold her against me and enjoy every second of it. I even manage not to think about her. Almost.

Afterwards, once we’ve both found our release, she curls into my side and I tug her close. She’s easy to hold. Everything about her is easy.

She sighs, her eyes closed and a contented smile on her face as she drifts off to sleep. While I stare at the ceiling, thinking I chose and I meant it. Over and over again until my eyes get heavy. My wolf, blissfully silent, doesn’t stir.

I try not to think about the woman down the hall. My mate. Which is another problem I don’t know how to solve. If I bit Piper, would the bond finally dissolve?

But that’s a problem for later. The more urgent conundrum is how to forget how she felt in my arms, her body pressed against mine, her generous curves against all my hard lines. One very hard line in particular. I try to forget. I fail.

It was a collision–genuinely, neither of us saw the other coming around that corner, both of us moving fast. I caught her. That’s the thing: I caught her, my hands on her arms to keep her from going down, and we were suddenly closer than we’ve ever been and the bond-

The bond didn’t tug. It wrapped around me like a vice and yanked. Hard. I wasn’t braced for it.

And then her scent.

I know her scent—I’ve been slowly tortured by it for months, the bond makes sure of that. I know it in its ordinary form, I know what it does when she’s upset, I know the shift of it when she’s trying not to feel something she’s feeling.

This was different. This was–I stood in that hallway with my hands on her and her scent told me exactly how much she liked me touching her. How much she liked the feel of my hard, thick cock pressing into her slick heat. And fuck, I wanted her.

I wanted to spin her around, shove her against the wall, take her hard and fast until she forgot everything but my name. I wanted to punish her with orgasms until she cried, begging me to stop. To fill her with my seed until it dripped from her and she smelled like mine.

My cock hardens painfully and an involuntary moan slips past my lips. My eyes flick to Piper, hating I might have disturbed her with my illicit fantasy, but she breathes, slow and even, against my side.

Slipping my hand beneath the sheets, I squeeze my rapidly thickening length hard to alleviate the ache, willing my erection to go down. I will not stroke myself off to thoughts of my fated mate while my chosen mate lies

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Ch 71

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sleeping beside me. It does nothing to lessen the guilt of knowing the woman asleep against my side is not the Woman I can’t stop thinking about.

I owe Piper more respect than this, even if she’s not aware of my internal betrayal. I owe her what she asked for, the only thing she asked me for. Honesty. I’m just not sure what the full truth is at this point.

My phone is on the nightstand. I pick it up, deciding doon scrolling is a good option for diverting my attention from my throbbing dick. Instead, I open the gate log–I don’t know why.

Cassandra Winters. Out: 7:15 PM. In: Not Logged.

Seven–fifteen. She went somewhere and hasn’t returned yet.

I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself. I scroll to the next entry and, sure enough, I find what I’m looking for. What I knew I would find.

Jack Morrow. Out: 7:15 PM. In: Not Logged.

I know exactly what this is. I know where she is and who she’s with and what decision she’s made. And I know exactly why she’s made it. I made my choice. Now she’s making hers.

But knowing doesn’t stifle the absolute rage I feel at imagining his hands on her. Mine! The insidious thought sneaks past my defenses. I put the phone down before I crush it in my clenched fists, and try to regulate my breathing.

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