GIANNA

The wolf that shoves through the front door is huge, a dark-chocolate-brown beast with large paws. It pads silently over the hardwood floor. Luc is a goddamn big wolf, but this bad boy has a good twenty or thirty pounds and six inches on the Breaux Alpha. Believing them evenly matched may have been a mistake.

The wolf swings its head around, golden eyes lasering in on me. The animal promptly lays in a direct course for me. Well. Shoot.

Please tell me that’s Cruz. And not another relative. I’m a cat person. Not a dog person. And the wolf coming for me is enormous.

The wolf snarls and butts me with its shoulder, driving me toward the staircase that leads to the bedroom. This is Cruz? I look down at the wolf. Big, stubborn, intent on making me toe some invisible line? Check, check, and check. The personality certain fits. I’m just not entirely sure why he’s so upset.

The wolf butts me again, and I come up against the foot of the stairs. When the wolf pushes, I glare down at it. Him. How did I end up with a pair of shapeshifters?

“You want to go upstairs and talk?” I’m not sure alone time is in my best interest. Cruz doesn’t get angry fast or easily, but I’ll bet he knows how to make his point and he sure seems to be jonesing for a fight of some kind. My pussy comes alive at that unwelcome thought, suggesting wicked possibilities. We’ve never had make-up sex. Or, hell, even normal sex.

So… no. Not happening. Cruz can shift back if he wants to hold an actual conversation with me. Until then, I’m out of here.

“Hey.” I slap a hand against his shoulder. Or what I think is his shoulder. “Shift.”

Apparently he’s not in an order-taking kind of mood. He butts my thigh with his shoulder, pushing me gently but firmly up the stairs. Apparently, it’s communication time after all. That, or I’m finally finding out what happens when Cruz loses his shit. Resigned, I hotfoot it up the stairs, hyperaware of the wolf following along behind me. As soon as my feet clear the last step, the wolf nudges me toward the bedroom.

When I step into the room, the wolf immediately follows, driving me straight toward the bed. Which isn’t happening right now. I turn to face my wolf, but he keeps right on coming, forcing me to backpedal—I’ll beat up on myself for that later—until the back of my thighs bump up against the bed. Soft tufts of the chenille rub against my over-sensitive skin. God. I’ll bet he feels soft…

The next nudge from the wolf knocks me onto the bed. I scramble high, putting my back to the pillows.

“Right.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare down at the animal. Cruz. Whoever. “Now we’re talking.”

The wolf chuffs and leaps lightly up onto the bed, its golden gaze raking over me. Then it walks toward me, the mattress shaking beneath its weight. Not happening. I draw my legs up to my chest.

“Shift.” I’m so not having a one-sided conversation with a wolf-man. Ignoring me, the wolf places one enormous paw on my bare thigh, the silky pad a heavy warmth. That part is actually kind of nice, but then he snarls. I have no idea what it—he—wants, but in typical male fashion, he’s going to make me guess.

“This is not a conversation. No shifting? Then no talking.”

The wolf growls low in its throat, clearly disagreeing. Who knows if he understands English in his shifted form?

I should be scared. Pissed off. Instead, I feel a flicker of fear and… heat? What kind of pervert am I?

The kind that likes wolves, apparently. Cruz drops onto the mattress, resting his huge head on my thigh, the heavy weight pressing my legs open. I look down and, shoot, the view is positively obscene. My short cotton shorts skim my ass, gaping where my thighs splay open. Yep. I’m definitely flashing him my panties. Nice panties, thank God, but none of his business right now. Worse, I can smell my arousal.

Which means so can he.

Time for ground rules. “I’m not doing this.”

Cruz has other ideas. A warm, rough tongue laps my thigh, and he presses me deeper into the mattress.

My pussy moistens. Arousal. Because, damn it, I’m not really afraid of Cruz. I’m afraid of losing control. And liking it.

As if he recognizes my hesitation, my wolf growls and nips carefully at my thigh. I jerk, but then that same rough tongue bathes at the sting.

Oh. Cruz’s tongue makes another pass, higher this time, and explores the sensitive junction of thigh and hip, finding the hollow.

“Shift.” I hear the plea in my voice, but I’m so not doing this with a wolf. Budging the big furry wolf body pinning me in place, however, is apparently mission impossible. Another nip. Another warm pass of his tongue, tracing the lacy edge of my panties.

And then he sniffs me. Really? He had to go and do that? When he shifts back, I’ll kill him. Because the wolf is now pressed lightly against the damp cotton, right where I ache for him, even if I also want to die from the embarrassment. This takes kink to a whole other level and my big bad wolf apparently has plans of his own. Plans that involve eating me up. Literally.

“Please shift?” Because I can’t take much more of this, and I need him now.

The wolf backs off. If I had blinked, I’d have missed it. I’m not sure what I imagined his shift would look like, but one minute I have the wolf by my side, and then the powerful body blurs, reshaping, and Cruz is here. And, oh thank God, he’s naked.

“Gianna,” he growls.

“No talking now.” Please let me not have whimpered.

“Turn over.” His face mirrors a fierce arousal and a raw possessiveness I should protest. When I look over his shoulder, however, the door is still open. That definitely has to change.

I jerk my chin toward the offending space. “Close the door.”

I honestly have no idea how a wolf pack works, but I’m not playing exhibitionist for his brother downstairs.

He gives a soft chuckle, then turns his head and bellows for Jace. That is so not what I had in mind.

“You do it. Or let me up and I’ll do it.” When I try to scramble off the bed, however, he stops me by rolling over on top of me. Time for a DIY approach. I shove at his shoulders, but the man is built like a brick wall, his body holding mine effortlessly in place on the mattress.

He’s so close now that there’s not an inch of space between us. His legs pin mine to the mattress, his erection cradled by my hips. Spending the next two—or twenty—hours like this works for me. Except… the door is still open and I’m pretty sure I’ve got wolfie bodyguards lurking around the place.

Um. Yeah. Privacy absolutely does matter. Otherwise, I’d have my very own channel on YouTube. Booted feet thud up the stairs down the hall, my heads-up that we have incoming and an audience. Oh, God. Company.

The feet stop at the door.

“Shut the door. We’re busy.” Cruz doesn’t so much as turn his head. Oh, boy. I’m in so much trouble here.

“Sure, but which side of the door do you wan’ me on?”

Definitely in trouble.

I risk a second look over Cruz’s bare shoulder. Sure enough, Eli has planted himself in the doorway. The grin on his face says he knows exactly what Cruz and I are getting up to. Of course. He has eyes in his head. All he has to do is look. And… is he serious about joining us? I definitely need the rule book for the wolf pack. Or a manual. Something, anything to let me know what to expect.

Other than trouble.

“Gianna?” Eli switches his eyes to my face. Bonus points for him. Or maybe he just doesn’t really want to stare at his brother’s naked butt.

“Leave and shut the door,” I snap, because apparently he requires explicit instructions. As hot as he and his motorcycle bad-boy brother are, I don’t need or want them in this bed with Cruz. Two wolves are more than enough for me.

“As long as you’re sure,” he says.

“I don’t beat your ass enough,” Cruz growls.

Eli laughs and backs up. “Gotta catch me first.”

“Go away. Now.” Tight with need and fierce demand, Cruz’s face wakes something primitive in me.

“I’m going. I just needed to make sure Gianna is okay before I hand over guard duty.”

Why wouldn’t I be fine? I open my mouth to ask, but Cruz beats me to the punch. “She’s workin’ on earnin’ herself a spankin’, but otherwise we’re good.”

Uh, no. Just no. “We did not discuss that kind of kink.”

The door closes as Eli retreats. Wise man. Wolf. Whatever.

“You do not get to spank me,” I snap. Hello. We don’t have that kind of history, and we definitely haven’t had a conversation about our bedroom limits. Now isn’t the time either, because I’m… damn it. I don’t know what I feel, except that it’s a really unpleasant mix of turned on, guilty, and sad. None of those emotions are conducive to kinky sex or whatever Cruz is calling his spankin’.

Cruz growls again, and I’m so over his caveman approach.

“Let. Go,” I grit out and shove his shoulders again. Biology isn’t working to my advantage here, because he’s about as moveable as a wall. Hell, I’d have better luck with the wall because I could blow it up and vent my frustrations.

“Luc may not have marked up your pretty ass, but I aim to turn it pink.”

Holy. Shit. I don’t think he’s kidding.

Before I can figure out how I feel about his promise, he flips me over. My face plants in the pillows and a big hand smoothes over my butt. When I try to shove upright, the heavy weight on the small of my back keeps me in place.

Cruz’s mouth brushes my ear. “We’ve already established I’m in charge in our bed.”

We had? “I must have missed that memo.”

“Don’ push me,” he warns roughly. I open my mouth to tell him what I think about that—because his anger-management issues are not my fault—but he pulls me down the bed. My feet hit the floor even as my thighs bump against the edge of the mattress. My shorts and panties fly down my legs before I can even squeak out a protest.

Except… my brain’s all mixed up and my body’s yelling yes. There might even be a please and a whimper mixed up in there, but it doesn’t matter because Cruz isn’t asking. He’s telling, and it’s so sexy I’m creaming already. Plus my new position has the edge of the mattress digging into my clit and that feels so shamelessly good that I groan.

“Grip the edge of the bed,” he orders.

Do I?

“We’re gonna get a few things clear here.” He brushes a finger down my butt, and my breathing hitches. My brain shuts off when he thrusts a finger deep inside my pussy. He doesn’t bother with preliminaries, just pushes farther inside me. He feels every bit as good as I remember too, as he works himself deeper.

“You listenin’?” He finds some spot inside me that makes me want to mewl, and I hope to God that’s a rhetorical question because I’m this close to coming.

He pulls free of my body, the wet, slick sound way too loud for my peace of mind.

“Cruz.” I moan his name, but he just grabs my fingers and curls them around the edge of the bed. I’m on fire, needing more. Needing something.

“You better not let go either.” He kicks my legs wider. Is he really going to—

“This isn’t a good idea,” I grit out, my pussy on fire. Hell, my face is on fire, and I suspect my butt is about to be too. I don’t do this kind of thing, but around Cruz I always forget about the don’ts.

“Shhh. We’re playin’ by my rules, boo.”

He smacks my butt. Heat radiates from the place he slaps, and I suck in a breath. Oh. God. I nearly have a heart attack. The sting burns, and only in a good way.

“Cruz.” I tighten my fingers on the edge of the bed because I get the feeling that letting go right now might be misinterpreted.

“Nuh-uh. You talk too much.” He taps the other side of my butt. The little smack sounds way too loud, but that’s okay. My moan about drowns it out. I’m on fire.

“You got the sweetest, prettiest pink mark.” He cups my butt with one big hand, squeezing.

He peppers my backside with short, sharp slaps. Each small blow drives me forward, jolts me against the mattress digging into my clit. There’s nothing restrained or civilized about my wolf now. He works my butt, hand rising and falling, and I swear I feel each tap between my legs.

“Shhh,” he whispers roughly when I shriek. “You’re goin’ to like this next part.”

He likes it too. He presses against me, letting me feel each hard inch of his cock, and the pleasure just grows bigger, sweeping over me like a current. I’m out of control, hurtling toward an orgasm I can’t stop, and it’s so impossibly good. For a moment, I panic, pulling at his hands, because if I’m out of control, then he’s not, and I can’t…

“Yes,” he snarls, finding me with his fingers, pressing me deeper. “You can.”

I can’t catch my breath, can’t do anything but feel as he marks me. Makes me his in every way. It’s as if he needs to touch me like this… so I’m not exactly powerless here, am I?

He spreads my folds, unerringly finding my clit and making me forget all about my inner monologue. With his other hand, he smacks my butt again. The shock makes me jump, which is also oh-my-God good because the move presses me against his fingers. He flicks my clit in rhythm that matches the swats peppering my butt.

My butt burns. I swing between domination and reluctant, sweet submission. He swings me up onto the bed.

“Tilt your butt up,” he orders.

I don’t hesitate, just do it. He took me there, that night we shared with Luc. He loves my hole.

He runs a hand over my back, my butt. “Boo, I’m gettin’ in there. I’m goin’ to take your ass until you can’t sit down for a week without thinkin’ of me, but not tonight.”

I buck in silent demand. Not that I know what I’m asking for, but I need something and he’d damned well better take care of it. His mouth moves over my butt, his tongue tracing each pink mark he’s left there.

“Mine,” he says harshly, and I can’t disagree with him. Not now, not when every inch of me aches for him.

He slams into me, pushing deep. Taking me with long, hard strokes that leave me moaning, my fingers twisting in the sheets. Each time he rams himself into me, he presses against my pinkened skin, making me exquisitely aware of the marks.

CRUZ

Gianna’s with me, giving every bit as good as she gets. She’s a fighter, but there’s a desperation to the way she touches me, the way her body surges back to meet mine. I reach beneath us, finding her clit, and coax her over the edge. She comes yelling, her body clenching around mine, and it’s fast and hard and so goddamned perfect.

I pull out of her, wrap my arms around her because I’m not done with her. Hell, I’m never gonna be done with her, and I think we both know that now. It’s not just the sex, even though what we’ve got here is the kind of sex that marks you inside and out. The best kind.

Forget about Luc.

Oui. I’d said that.

Funny how she’s the one who opens up, who shares what’s going on inside her head and then lets me into her body, but I’m the one who feels so fucking vulnerable. I’m Alpha. I’m a predator. I could fight any challenger to the death and win too, but I don’t want to hurt Gianna.

My body’s screaming for me to sink deep inside her again, to let my dick do any talking that’s necessary. I can make her feel so good that maybe she’ll forget about wanting Luc, at least for the next few minutes. And then the next few minutes after that.

The problem is that minutes don’t always add up to forever.

And of course that’s reason one million why I don’t want Luc here. Sharing a bed with him, there’s no way not to touch, not to let him witness that moment when I come undone, lost in the pleasure and gone over the edge. But he had that moment too. I hang on to that thought. If he saw me at my most vulnerable, I had a similar view of him. It’s not that there’s not enough of Gianna for the two of us to share—it’s that there’s not enough of me. I’m not enough.

“Okay,” I growl, because being nice isn’t happening.

“Okay, what?” She sighs, melting around me. She’s so slick and warm that I could howl from the pleasure of it.

And I can’t tell her, because fuck if I know. Okay. She can have Luc. Okay, we’ll work it out. Just tell me that we’re going to be okay, because I don’t want this life without her in it. As she drifts off to sleep, I know what I have to do.