Page 53 of Rejected by My Stepbrother Alpha (Billionaire Shifter Club #1)

His scent is stronger tonight… sharper, more vivid than ever. I can smell him clearly now, and it’s… intoxicating.

Like rain. Clean and powerful. Familiar in a way that calms me, even as it pulls something wild to the surface.

I feel my wolf stir inside me, restless and alert, like she’s waking up to something she’s been waiting for. Something close. And suddenly, my heart’s doing this weird little flip.

“I… I made dinner,” I blurt out, because apparently that’s what my mouth decides to do while my brain’s still trying to catch up.

His eyes drop to the table, then come right back to me. And now there’s something sharp in his gaze—like whatever he’s feeling just surged stronger.

“It looks nice,” he says, voice low.

My face heats up. I want to say thank you, or something normal, but before I get the chance, he speaks again.

“Your scent… it’s—” he pauses, like he’s thinking twice about saying it out loud, then finishes, “You smell nice.”

I swallow, feeling my chest tighten at his compliment.

“You too,” I mutter, my voice coming out soft.

This air between us—it’s different. There’s something here I can’t explain. It feels like we’re on the edge of something. Like something invisible is linking us.

Maybe I’m just being silly. Maybe I’m acting like some teenage girl with a crush and too much hope. But it doesn’t feel silly.

It feels real.

“Would you like to take a shower before dinner?” I ask, keeping my voice light.

He shakes his head gently, then slides his thick coat off his shoulders. He folds it neatly over his arm.

“Actually… I’m famished,” he says. “I’d prefer dinner first.”

I don’t know why, I already knew that’s what he’d say. Like something deep inside me expected it.

I move towards the table, and he follows without saying a word.

I set his plate in front of him. He sits down, takes one look at the food, and digs in. Calm. Quiet. But steady.

He likes it. I can tell.

He doesn’t moan or make a big deal about it—but the way he chews, the way he nods slightly to himself after that first bite, the way he takes another without hesitation—it all says the same thing.

He’s enjoying it. And that… that does something to me.

But it’s not just that he’s enjoying the food.

It’s the way he keeps looking at me—like he doesn’t even mean to, like his eyes are being pulled in my direction and he can’t help it.

That’s what gets me.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Alexander over the years, it’s that he’s always in control. Always focused. When he’s eating, he’s eating. When he’s drinking, he’s drinking. He doesn’t do anything halfway.

But tonight… tonight feels different.

He keeps glancing up between bites, and each time, there’s this look in his eyes I can’t quite name. Like he’s searching for something in me. Or maybe already found it and doesn’t know what to do with it.

And every time his gaze meets mine, my heart skips. Then stumbles. Then takes off like it’s trying to outrun the moment.

I don’t know what it means. But it’s messing with my breathing—and possibly my sanity.

I sit beside him and start eating too, but my mind is not on the food. It’s racing. My fork feels heavier than usual. My throat tight.

I want to say it. But how? When?

Part of me just wants to say it now, but there’s another part that’s caught in this moment, wanting it to last longer.

There’s something about him tonight. Something I can’t explain.

And then I feel something strange.

Suddenly, before he even moves, I know he’s thirsty.

I don’t know how I know, but I do.

It’s like something deep inside me says, he’s going to want water now. And just as I’m about to look away—

“I’m going to get some more water.”

He stands up gently, his voice low and calm, and my heart skips a beat.

What…? How did I—

“I’ll do it,” I say immediately, almost cutting him off. “It’s okay, let me.”

I don’t even think. I just move.

My legs carry me to the kitchen. I fill a jug. My hands are weirdly calm for how fast my heart is racing. When I walk back in, he’s still standing there.

I walk toward him and hand him the jug. And when he reaches for it, our fingers touch. Just a light graze but it feels like lightning shoots through me.

The jug slips from my hand, and whatever that jolt was, like lightning shooting through me, it must hit him too, because he doesn’t catch it properly either.

It drops, and water splashes across the floor… and straight onto his trousers.

I gasp before I can stop myself. “I’m so sorry… God, I’m sorry.”

I bend down quickly, setting the jug upright, fumbling through apologies. His pants are soaked. Right around his crotch. And without thinking, my hand moves to the spot, trying to dab at it, wipe some of it away, until I realize where I’m touching.

I jerk my hand back. “I’ll get something to clean this up,” I say, already turning, desperate for something… anything, to do.

But his hand closes around my arm. Gentle, firm. He pulls me back toward him.

His eyes are wide. Brows raised. Lips slightly parted. He’s staring at me like I’m someone he’s just now seeing for the first time. Like something just clicked.

The air between us changes… dense, electric. I feel it something tugging at my chest, my skin, my soul.

And then, in one heated rush, he pulls me in and kisses me.

It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It hits like a match to gasoline. Something erupts the second our lips meet, and I forget everything else.

The kiss is wild. Desperate. So intense it steals the air from my lungs. I’m not even kissing him back at first, I’m just trying to keep up, trying to hold on.

My lips part, and he doesn’t hesitate. He claims my lower lip, then deepens the kiss like he’s starved for it. His tongue slides into my mouth and it feels like it belongs there, like it’s always belonged there.

My knees go weak, trembling beneath me as his hands move to my back. One slides up to the base of my neck, holding me to him like he can’t bear to let go, like the kiss alone is anchoring us both.

Then the ground disappears.

He lifts me… effortless, like I weigh nothing, and keeps kissing me as he carries me toward the stairs.

I’m clinging to him now, fists gripping his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping me grounded. Like if he stops, even for a second, I’ll forget how to breathe.

The house is silent, except for the sound of us—ragged breaths, mouths crashing, footsteps moving fast.

And then we’re through the door of his room.

He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t let go. Just keeps holding me tight as he walks us to the bed, like the need to be close hasn’t even scratched the surface yet.Finally, our lips part when he lays me on the bed, and I get a chance to open my eyes and look at him.

My goodness. His eyes..

Alexander’s eyes look absolutely drenched in need… In want… in sheer, unbridled desire.

And seeing him look at me like that makes something inside me beam with an emotion so euphoric that it’s hard to describe.

There’s no time for thinking though, because he unbuttons his shirt frantically, like the very clothes on his back are on fire. I move just as well, slipping out of my dress in a heated rush.

He leans over again, planting his lips down on my neck, sending sparks through me. My hands move, caressing his face, his stubble as his tongue roams around my neck like he’s desperate to imprint the way I taste on his tongue.

My hands move again, roaming around his exposed chest and torso. The thick weighty mass of his chest, the chiseled curves of his torso. And I dare to go deeper, I take my hand lower, unbuttoning his trousers till his cock jolts out of them.

I don’t know what radiates into me more: The sight of his beautiful, thick, veiny cock, or the way it feels in my hands as I caress it, or the way he groans into my ears as the sensation kicks into him.

It’s all so overwhelming.

And we’ve only just gotten started because his hand goes down on me too, eager to return the favor. I didn’t even realize how wet I’ve gotten until his finger slips into me, and I hear the wet sound that escapes me.

He drives his finger into me and my eyes go shut instantly, my body quivering with deepening need.

“I can’t fucking take it anymore. I need to be inside you,” he says into my ears.

And his voice… God. It horse, needy, somewhere between pleading and just full blown demanding.

Hearing him sound like that, the ever composed Alexander, sounding so raw and stripped of control because of his desire for me in this moment… . It feels electric.

But no where near as electric as what comes next.

He moves immediately, pinning me down as if I would dare protest or stop him. He lifts my legs till they’re high against his shoulders and I’m spread completely apart, in perfect surrender to him.

“Fuck me, Alex,” I say, it just feels natural to say it when I’m held like this, my body gaping and pleading for him.

And it’s like I light a fuse in him by saying that. His stiff cock stretches my pussy walls as he penetrates into me. He groans at that first thrust like a starved man getting a first taste of a hot meal.

And me? My eyes roll back, a gasp escaping me, my body tenses and eases back and forth as his delicious pleasure stick caresses my throbbing pussy walls over and over with each stroke.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes, the sound of his voice briefly interrupting the sweet clapping noises of his body slamming into mine.

His name escapes my lips like I’m worshiping him, and honestly, right now I probably could. My body responds and I get wetter and wetter, my juices spilling all over his cock, onto his torso and even onto the bed.

The pressure keeps building inside me, the almost unbearable crescendo of pleasure building right up to fever pitch.