Page 39 of Rejected By My Shifter Billionaire

“ H arder, Nix.”

Just hearing her words made me turn red. And seeing her clinging to him like ivy on stone while she gasped them out—

The pain was so much worse, but for some reason, I just couldn’t look away. Even when every second made my heart ache harder, I couldn’t stop staring at the way her long legs tightened around his waist as hie drove into her against one of the marble columns in the garden.

A part of me was prudishly, childishly, and perhaps vindictively...offended. Behind the hedges, a party was still in full swing, the sound of laughter, music, and clinking champagne flutes playing a harmony of festive melodies in the air.

Didn’t they care about getting caught? Or was that what they wanted? To be seen? Or maybe, and this was so, so much worse—

Passion had completely overwhelmed both of their senses, and everything under the cover of night had melted into heat, shadows, and the sounds of her throatily moaning his name.

“Yes. Yes. There—”

I told myself for the nth time to look away.

But instead, I found myself staring harder at the way Nicolo’s hands were gripping her hips, strong and sure, and his body moving like he was built for this.

Every thrust signified power and control.

Pleasure and surrender. Every thrust made it impossible for me to look away. Or even breathe.

I knew I should’ve turned back the second I realized what I was seeing.

But because I hadn’t, then here I was, paying the price.

I was frozen, my gaze seemingly taken captive by an evil spell. My throat was tight, my fists clenched at my sides. But even as my heart shattered again and again, there was no denying that something something low and aching was also blooming in my belly every time she gasped his name.

That could be me.

Should’ve been me.

And I hated, absolutely hated myself for thinking this.

Look away, my mind pleaded.

But I just couldn’t.

Their bodies continued to move in heartbreakingly perfect rhythm, both of them so beautiful that it just made me all the more aware of how lacking I was.

An ordinary eighteen-year-old underachiever.

Boring. Horribly flat-chested. And now, I had also sunk to the lowest of lows as my unhealthy obsession had reduced me into standing in the shadows like some pathetic voyeur while my stepbrother—my ridiculously hot, untouchable stepbrother—lost himself in someone else.