Page 23 of Predator (Stope Packs #4)

What was she doing? Emily Nightsom had never needed to make the first move with a male, not once in her entire life, and now she’d done it twice. She kissed Jackson as he sat there like he was trying to give her space, as if he thought she needed it. She didn’t. She was done with space. Done with wondering. And she was beyond tired of worrying about dying.

They could’ve died earlier today when the helicopter went down. Again, when those four wolves attacked. Both times, Jackson had saved them with absolute focus and brutality. Each time, she’d come face-to-face with the reality that tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. And right now? She wanted him. She wanted to feel alive. To feel good. Maybe she didn’t have a future. But they had this moment. Sometimes, that had to be enough.

Jackson’s hands tunneled through her hair, warm fingers curling at her scalp. He tilted her head back, his gaze locking on hers. His eyes flashed a mystical blue—sharp, focused, and unmistakably hungry. “Are you thinking clearly?” His voice came out rough, the sound vibrating against her chest.

“I am, Jackson.” She inhaled his wild, masculine scent, her pulse kicking up. “We had one kiss eons ago and another the other day. I haven’t stopped thinking about either of them.”

“Ditto.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “But you were hurt and almost frozen,” he murmured.

Maybe he could help banish the cold. “I may be fighting an illness, but I’m still an Alpha female,” she shot back, strength sparking. “I’m healed as much as I can be. My brain’s intact, Jackson. How about yours?”

His nostrils flared. “I’m not exactly the honorable type, sweetheart. I’m not gonna do the right thing and put you to bed in a room by yourself for your own good. You can worry all you want about the future, but I know what I want right now.”

He was wrong. Everything about Jackson was honorable. Maybe he didn’t want it to be. Maybe as a fifteen-year-old Alpha, he hadn’t had the luxury. But now? Now, honor clung to him as tightly as the heat thrumming between them.

That side of him pulled her in like nothing else. She’d noticed the way his gaze flicked to Erik’s shirt on her, the brief flash of distaste he hadn’t quite hidden. He didn’t like seeing her in another male’s clothes. And the strangest part? She liked that. Possessiveness in a boyfriend had never appealed to her before. But with Jackson? Everything felt different.

If they’d been different people with different lives and loyalties, they probably would’ve ended up together without hesitation. But their packs defined their futures.

Duty would always come first.

If she regained her health, she could back up her father. But what then? What about Jackson? She owed her pack. But tonight? No more thinking. Tonight, she was taking this moment for herself. “If you don’t want me, say so.”

“You’d have to be three centuries dead for me not to want you.” His voice was a rough murmur.

Yeah. That’s what she’d thought. She slid higher onto his thighs, heat curling low in her belly as she felt the pulse of him through the thick, too-big sweats she wore. They’d fall right off if she tried to walk too far in them. Which, frankly, was part of the plan.

“You’re sure?” he asked, the words brushing against her skin.

“Just this night,” she replied.

He grinned. “That’s my line.”

Yet somehow...it wasn’t.

Jackson aimed to build a family, and she knew it. She didn’t see how she could be part of his future. Or was she just lying to herself? A shard of jealousy cut through her at the thought of the female he chose. That wolf would have a good life. But tonight? Tonight belonged to Emily.

She leaned in, her lips brushing his, teasing with soft, lingering kisses. The fire warmed her back, while Jackson’s heat warmed her front. His fingers threaded through her hair, his palm cradling her head as his other hand slid down her spine, stopping at her waist to draw her closer.

“If anything hurts, tell me,” he murmured against her mouth.

Instead of answering, she pressed harder into him. He captured her lips fully, deepening the kiss until her breath hitched. His grip tightened, locking her against him as sensation overwhelmed her. She fell into the wildness that spun between them, heat spiraling through her limbs and pooling low in her belly. Her breasts ached where they pressed to the solid plane of his chest, her body coming alive in ways she hadn’t felt in years.

He growled low, the sound rough and primal, before kissing her deeper, both hands adjusting her hips into the perfect position to absorb the pleasure he fed her. Still holding her close, he stretched effortlessly to his feet, lifting her without breaking the kiss. The world tilted, and she clung to his shoulders, her heartbeat thundering against his. The air around them crackled with heat, both from the fire and the raw energy coiling tighter between their bodies.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss, drawing in the taste of scotch. He and Erik must have had a drink in the kitchen while cleaning up after dinner—yet another side of Jackson she hadn’t expected. Capable. Domestic. Protective.

He moved, carrying her down the hallway, but she didn’t care where. Her fingers tangled in his thick hair, savoring the soft, springy strands that felt almost too silky for a male as tough as him. The contrast fascinated her. His whiskers scraped her chin, rough and teasing, sending another rush of heat through her.

She barely noticed when he lowered her onto a bed, his strength effortless as he moved, keeping her close. Then he sank to his knees in front of her, his hands sliding up her thighs, skimming to the oversized shirt she wore. He slowly lifted the fabric, watching her with an intensity that sent shivers through her. She helped him, pulling it over her head and letting the cool air wash over her skin just before his warmth replaced it.

His mouth found her breasts, pressing soft kisses before teasing, licking, and nipping. It was slow, unhurried worship that had pleasure winding deep inside her. She had expected something rough, fast, but this? His tenderness and patience made something inside her crack open. He wasn’t just touching her body. He was reaching deeper and further into places she had long since locked away.

“Jackson,” she breathed.

He looked up, eyes dark with hunger, then yanked off his shirt. Hard cut muscles now stretched before her, all raw strength and honed power. She ran her hands over his warm skin, trailing her fingertips over the deep ridges of his abs, feeling the way he trembled under her touch.

No belt stood in her way. Her fingers brushed the top of his jeans, then flicked the button open, sliding the zipper down with slow, deliberate ease.

He gently pushed her back onto the bed, and she laughed when her head hit the soft comforter. His hands, rougher now, yanked the sweats down her legs. She kicked her feet, and he caught her ankle with a firm grip.

“Socks. Leave the socks on.” His gaze locked on hers.

She blinked. “You have a sock fetish?”

His grin was boyish, almost charming. Well, as close as Jackson could get to boyish. Even in a playful mood, he radiated pure predator. “No sock fetish. But your feet were freezing. We’re keeping them warm.”

“You’re kind of bossy.”

“I’m trying to temper that this time.” His tone softened, but something in his eyes made her breath catch.

This time. The words clanged through her like a warning. There could only be this time. She wasn’t sure she would survive this and still walk away.

He pressed her down again, his hands sliding along her thighs, opening her. Then his mouth found her, and she jerked against him, her cry echoing off the walls.

“Jackson,” she gasped.

He kissed her clit, slow and deliberately, thumbs pressing into the soft skin of her inner thighs. Heat flashed through her. Vulnerability brushed against her, but then he did it again. Hot, wild, and deep. Any trace of shyness vanished. Her world narrowed to the fire of his mouth and the pressure building inside her.

“You’re beautiful, Em,” he said against her skin.

She couldn’t answer. Her body shattered beneath his touch, the first orgasm hitting so fast she forgot to breathe. She hadn’t known she could come like that, and he did it again before she could gather herself. By the third time, her vision blurred, and her limbs were boneless, her breath ragged.

“Jackson,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” He stood and shoved off his jeans in one swift motion. Firelight sculpted shadows across his body, highlighting muscle and strength. Dangerous. Deadly. Built like a warrior stepping from the flames. And tonight, he was hers.

He grasped her hips and lifted her higher onto the bed, following her down and covering her with his body. His heat surrounded her, and then he kissed her again.

Slow, deep, and all-consuming.

Every inch of her skin had felt his mouth, tongue, and teeth, yet he showed no signs of stopping. He nibbled along her jawline, found her ear, and bit gently. A shiver danced down her spine as she widened her legs, needing him more than she could explain. Not just physically. She wanted this connection with him and no one else.

“You sure?” His breath warmed her ear.

She dug her nails into the hard muscle of his ass, loving the solid feel of him. Then she smoothed her hands over the indents she’d left, silently telling him she wanted more.

“Fair enough,” he murmured.

Sliding an arm beneath her leg, he lifted her, aligning their bodies. Slowly, he began to press inside her. She inhaled sharply. He was thick and hard, stretching her in ways that made her toes curl. He moved slowly, giving her time to adjust while nuzzling her neck, the rasp of his whiskers rough against her skin. She welcomed the burn, that raw scrape of sensation.

Her other leg widened, and she clamped her hands hard on his buttocks, urging him deeper.

“Please,” she whispered, half plea, half demand.

His gaze lifted, and something feral ignited in his eyes. With a thrust, he powered all the way inside her, stealing her breath. Her body clenched, instinctive and tight, then softened around him as if recognizing exactly where he belonged. His mouth found hers in a kiss so tender it cracked something wide open inside her.

“Em,” he whispered. Just her shortened name, one simple syllable that tunneled straight through her chest and into her heart. The moment held, suspended between them, before he drove into her again—hard, fast, and relentless. She clung to his shoulders, her nails digging in for purchase as he pushed her higher, faster, and toward the edge she both craved and feared.

He kept her wide and open for him, that arm hooked beneath her knee, holding her exactly where he wanted. Her breath hitched. The look in his eyes was wild, possessive, untamed, and sent another pulse of heat straight through her. He pushed her over the edge, and she shattered, crying out his name as pleasure crashed through her in rolling waves that left her boneless. Every limb felt weak, spent, but satisfaction hummed through her veins.

She murmured his name, still catching her breath, and realized he wasn’t finished. His body kept moving against hers, slow and steady. She clutched his shoulders, fingers digging into hard muscle as she tried to ground herself, but the tension was already building again, too fast, too sharp.

“Now,” she whispered, frustration lacing her voice when he slowed his pace.

His wicked grin sent heat pooling low in her belly. “Oh, we’re taking our time,” he murmured.

“Are we?” She scraped her nails down his back, then gripped the muscle of his thigh, determined to push him over the edge.

His breath hitched, his control slipping. His chin lifted slightly, and she saw it. The moment restraint shattered. He drove into her harder, deeper, every thrust sending sparks burning beneath her skin. Her body clenched around him, tightening as the pressure built impossibly high.

A riot started inside her. One of hunger and dark need. His name broke free on a gasp as pleasure detonated, white-hot and relentless. Her eyes squeezed shut as she climaxed, every nerve singing with sensation. He shuddered against her, his release following hers in rough, staggered bursts that made her cling tighter.

Their breaths mingled, harsh and uneven as the aftershocks slowly faded. His hand brushed her hair back from her face, and he kissed her softly, a lingering touch of lips that felt more like a promise.

“You okay?” he asked, voice rough with exertion.

“Better than okay,” she admitted. “I’ve never felt this good in my life.”

His smile was pure trouble. “Good. Because I’m not done.”

Before she could reply, his mouth captured hers again, and he thrust deep, pulling her right back into the fire.