THE BIKER ALPHA WHO BECAME MY SECOND CHANCE MATE novel THE NIGHT I SHOULDN'T HAVE TOUCHED HIM

Prologue

Athena

I can't breathe.

Tristan moves inside me, slow and deep, and I'm drowning in the sensation. Each thrust sends heat spiraling through my body, filling all the hollow spaces that grief carved out today.

His hands find their way beneath my thigh, lifting it carefully... gently, like I might shatter—before he pushes forward, filling me again. I gasp, arching my back off the bed, fingers tangled in the sheets, desperate to hold onto something solid, anything.

But it's all so overwhelming. So intoxicating.

The moonlight streaming through his bedroom window catches the sweat on his chest, the way his dark hair sticks to his forehead. His hands grip my thighs, holding me steady as I fall apart beneath him.

This is wrong. So wrong.

We just laid our parents to rest this morning. All four of them—my mom and dad, his mom and dad. Lowered into the ground side by side, just like they would have wanted. Our fathers had been best friends since childhood, Alphas of neighboring packs who refused to let territory lines divide them.

They'd died together on vacation, their car wrapping around a tree on some mountain road. My mother had held on for three days in the hospital, her wolf fighting until the very end, but even she couldn't survive what that crash had done to her.

I still can't wrap my brain around how we got here. One minute we were holding hands at their graveside as we watched them lower their bodies, and the next... we're here, wrapped in each other's arms.

I should be grieving. I should be home, surrounded by my brother and pack, letting them comfort me the way wolves are supposed to. Instead, I'm here, in Tristan's bed, letting my brother's best friend touch me like he owns me.

"Athena," he breathes against my throat, and I arch into him, desperate for anything that will make this pain stop. I've wanted him for so long... years of watching him from across rooms, of pretending I didn't notice how his eyes would linger on me sometimes when he thought no one was looking.

He drives into me again, slower this time, savoring each moment until I whimper. I instinctively reach for him, my hands wrapping around his shoulders, then slipping into his hair, pulling him closer, aching for his warmth... because he is the only thing that feels real in this shattered moment.

His left hand plays with my clit, taking me to places I've never been. I want more. I need more.

I tilt my head up, and when a moan slips out louder than I intend, he closes the space between us and kisses me hard, swallowing the sound as if it pains him to hear it.

The kiss is desperate, a raw mix of warmth and urgency... his lips pressed against mine like he fears the silence that looms between us.

He quickens his rhythm again, every thrust knocking the breath from my lungs, making me gasp into his mouth, blurring the lines of grief, of reality.

I know I shouldn't be here... finding solace like this, lost in an intimacy that feels too good to be true.

But I am. And I don't want him to stop. I know we're going to face the harsh reality after this, but I still want to enjoy it while it lasts.

At some point, he flips us over, and suddenly I'm straddling him, my hands pressed against his chest, moving against him as he studies me, his eyes tracing every contour of my body.

His mouth travels down my neck, across my collarbone, and when I cry out, he shushes me softly, his lips brushing against my skin like a gentle chant.

I lean down to kiss him again, slower this time, even as our bodies dance together. I can't tell if I'm crying or not... my eyes burn, yet everything else is hot, aching, alive.

My fingers dig into his shoulders as he holds me in place and moves faster, deeper, pushing me toward the edge. The sound that escapes me is half-moan, half-sob, and he swallows it with his mouth again, kissing me like I'm the only thing keeping him sane.

When I come, it's with his name on my lips and tears on my cheeks. He follows seconds later, his face buried in my neck, his body shuddering against mine.

For a moment, we just lie there, breathing hard, his weight pinning me to the mattress. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, can smell the mix of his cologne and our sweat.

My wolf is purring, content in a way she hasn't been since we got the call about the accident.

This feels right. Like coming home.

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