Alpha Josh's grip on my abdomen is tight, urgent, and arousing. His hands circle me like a shield, and when he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing my skin, "God, Zara. God," I nearly come undone.
His hand slides to the waistband of my shorts, fingers skimming before dipping inside. He wastes no time, sliding a finger in.
I don't have the luxury to dwell on the fact that I'm bare under there, or that I'm unshaven, because he groans—his chest vibrating, his head resting on my shoulder, his hair brushing against my skin, leaving it tingling.
There's something about seeing him vulnerable that turns me on—maybe it's the way his breathing comes out labored, or how his hands can't seem to stay in one place.
He pats my legs, and I part them, giving him full access. Alpha Josh takes that as a clue and directs me to the bed. He tosses me down and plops beside me, his hands covering his face as he stares into my hungry eyes.
