Desired by the Pack: Part One: A BBW Paranormal Romance by Emma Storm Page A

shrugged and tossed her brand on the counter. They slid to a stop at the base of a tub of coconut oil.
    Beck deposited three wine glasses beside the sink and caught her hand.
    “Look at me.”
    His quiet command compelled her, man to woman instead of alpha to subordinate.
    January licked her lips. “Okay.”
    But it took her a minute to follow through. The flutter behind her ribs warned of danger. Bracing herself, she lifted her gaze and walked right into the fire.
    “We’ll wear all the condoms you want, but you don’t get to cover up.” He feathered a light touch from her temple down to her chin and lower. Hooking his finger behind the crew neck of her scrubs top, he said, “Take this off.”
    “I don’t want to be vulnerable to you,” she confessed.
    Beck’s eyes softened. “Too late for that, isn’t it?”
    “Maybe it is.” She swallowed, wishing she could demand something fast, hard and impersonal again.
    But as loudly as her body had clamored for relief a few nights ago, her heart cried out just as loud for a connection now.
    Cross came up behind her, strong hands confident at her waist. “Lift your arms.”
    Slowly, because it felt like surrender and she’d never allowed herself to do that before, she raised her hands over her head. Cross skimmed the woven cotton up her body. The material caught at her breasts. Beck freed it with a touch, then covered her with his broad hands.
    “Oh,” she breathed as his thumbs swept across her nipples, teasing them to taut points beneath the satin of her bra.
    Cross swept her shirt over her head, breaking her eye contact with Beck. When she could see again, she found Beck staring at the firm globes he cupped.
    Not staring at her belly and that damning sigil forever emblazoned on her skin.
    The intensity of Beck’s focus made her take a step back--mistake, as she came up against Cross’s hard chest. She stiffened, surprised. Cross pulled her arms back and looped them around his neck.
    His murmur ruffled the fine hairs at her temple. “Don’t forget about me.”
    Beck bent his head and wet the fabric of her bra cup with his tongue. Moaning, she bumped her ass toward Cross. With their height difference, she could only reach his upper thighs. His erection rode higher, a thick, rigid knot trapped by denim, rubbing against her lower back.
    “I want you to touch me.” Fingers tugging at Cross’s short hair, she arched her back and pushed her breasts fully against Beck’s face.
    “Which of us?” Beck licked the deep line of her cleavage. His lashes flicked up and he met her gaze, devilish intent in his gray eyes.
    Rough palms sloped down her arms from her elbows to the sensitive, ticklish hollow below. Cross nipped her earlobe. “He wants to hear you asking for exactly what you want.”
    January gulped down a flare of unease. She never asked, only took.
    Somehow Beck knew that. He raised his head and tilted it, waiting.
    Beck knew. And he was going to make her break her rules.
    Or leave her suffering if she clung to them.
    “I don’t like you,” she whispered, glaring at him.
    Beck’s lips quirked. “I know.”
    He glanced over her shoulder. At his nod, Cross took his touch away.
    She inhaled angrily, blew out a frustrated, “Fine.”
    Beck raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. The material of his shirt stretched to fit the swells and planes of his defined muscles.
    She wanted to touch him, but she wouldn’t ask for anything that gave him pleasure.
    Only her.
    Until he broke and started taking without making her beg.
    “Take off my bra. Suck on my nipples.” Her chin jutted in challenge.
    Beck’s nostrils flared. He flicked his gaze over her torso, eating her flesh with his eyes. Nodding at her upraised arms, he said, “Don’t move your hands.”
    Before she could point out the problem of her bra straps, Beck grabbed a long, thin knife from the butcher’s block on the counter.
    A flush burst over her skin, precursor to the moisture that