The Alpha’s Secret Obsession Now novel Chapter 53

The kiss is consuming.

Paul’s mouth moves against mine with a hunger that borders on violence, and I match him beat for beat, my fingers twisting in his shirt hard enough to hear seams protest.

The careful distance I’ve maintained dissolves like morning frost under noon sun, and I stop pretending I don’t want this—stop pretending I haven’t wanted this since the moment I climbed out that window and felt the bond stretch thin between us.

His hands find my waist, spanning the curve of my hips with possessive heat, and he lifts me onto the kitchen counter like I weigh nothing.

The cold surface bites through the thin fabric of my clothes, but the chill disappears the instant he steps between my thighs, his body radiating warmth that sinks into my bones.

I wrap my legs around his hips and drag him closer.

The sound he makes against my mouth is more growl than groan, something primal and wolfish that vibrates through my chest and settles low in my belly.

“I thought about this,” I gasp between kisses, my fingers raking up his chest. “Every night in this house, I thought about you finding me.”

“And what did you imagine I’d do when I found you?” His voice is rough, scraping against my ear like sandpaper wrapped in silk.

This. Exactly this.

The answer burns through me, but I’m too breathless to speak it.

His teeth catch my lower lip, not quite gentle, and the sharp edge of pain sends electricity sparking down my spine. A moan tears from my throat—raw, unguarded, the sound of a woman who has stopped caring about dignity.

“That,” Paul murmurs against my mouth, his hands tightening on my hips. “I want to hear that sound again.”

His teeth catch my lower lip, not quite gentle, and the sharp edge of pain sends electricity sparking down my spine.

I arch into him, pressing the soft curves of my body against the hard planes of his, and feel him shudder with restraint I don’t want him to keep.

‘Finally,’ Nireya breathes, and her approval hums through my blood like a second heartbeat.

Paul’s mouth leaves mine to trace a burning path down my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin where my pulse hammers beneath the surface.

“Yes,” I breathe, the word escaping before I can catch it. “Right there.”

I tilt my head back to give him better access, my fingers raking through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp in a way that makes his hips jerk forward against the counter.

The friction pulls a moan from my throat that I don’t bother to swallow.

“There it is,” Paul murmurs against my skin, his voice dark with satisfaction. “Good girl.”

The praise rumbles through his chest and into mine, settling somewhere deep in my belly where it has no business feeling so right. His teeth graze my pulse point in reward.

Then his hands slide beneath my shirt, palms rough against the soft swell of my stomach, the generous curve of my waist.

He doesn’t hesitate at the places where my body refuses to be small, doesn’t gentle his grip like I’m something fragile.

Instead, his fingers dig into my flesh with bruising pressure that feels like worship, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me through touch alone.

“You’re so soft here,” he murmurs against my throat, his hands spanning my hips with possessive reverence.

“Shut up.”

I yank at his shirt until he pulls back long enough to tear it over his head.

The sight of him steals what little breath I have left—broad shoulders, muscles shifting beneath golden skin, the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath his waistband.

“Paul—” His name tears from me, half-warning, half-prayer. “I can’t—it’s too much—”

He responds by pressing closer, by doubling his efforts, proving that my protests mean nothing against his determination to take me apart. My spine bows off the counter. My fingers find his hair and grip hard enough to hurt.

I look down and find him watching me.

The eye contact is almost too much, too intimate. He sees everything—the flush burning across my cheeks, the way my lips part on each ragged breath, the desperate need written across my features.

And he doesn’t look away. He holds my gaze and pushes two fingers inside me, crooking them against a spot that makes my vision blur.

The orgasm crashes through me without warning.

I shatter against his mouth, my back arching off the counter, his name tearing from my lips in a sound that might be a scream.

The pleasure rolls through me in waves, each one deeper than the last, and he doesn’t stop—doesn’t ease up, doesn’t give me space to recover. He works me through every tremor until I’m gasping and oversensitive and still somehow wanting more.

“That was just the warmup.”

His voice reaches me through the haze, and then his hands are under my thighs, lifting me off the counter like I weigh nothing at all.

I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, the hard length of him pressing against my slick, swollen flesh through the barrier of his remaining clothes.

The living room appears around us, and then I’m falling backward onto the couch with Paul’s weight pressing me into the cushions.

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