How To Interpret 'Please Stop Pushing I Can’T Take It' In A Song?

“I, Riccardo Saviano, future Alpha of the Grey Shadow Moon Pack, reject you, Artemisia Guerrieri, Daughter of Alpha Franco of the Blood Moon Pack, as my mate and future Luna.” One single sentence. One stupid single sentence was all it took to disintegrate my life. And the day of my birthday, on which this sentence was audaciously uttered to me, I lost the love of my life, my future mate, and my wolf, all at once. As I’m still assembling the pieces of my shattered heart years later, there they come. Like lightning out of a crystal blue sky. My Mates. But wait… If I am mated to triplets, how come I’m about to be mated to 5 gorgeous men? *** TW: explicit and foul language; spicy content; explicit sex scenes *** Book 1 : When They Touch Me - Completed Book 2 : Their Burning Touch on my Skin (Sequel) - Ongoing

She’s playing hard to get, and I love it. I decided a long time ago to let my career as a high-powered New York Editor and my son be my only focuses. But my family had hoped for a different fate. As much as I miss them, I’ve lost touch with them, and with love in general. Wealth calls to me after my grandfather dies and leaves me his billions. But there’s one catch. There always is, right? I have to live on the farm I grew up on for six months and take a break from my big city life. It’s worth it and maybe my little boy will enjoy the time with me. One thing I never expected was a beautiful woman to show up and steal our hearts. She’s everything I want in my life and my bed. But she’s a tough cookie. I’m up for the challenge. There’s nothing I’ve wanted in life that I haven’t gotten. Unfortunately for her, I don’t want just six months in Montana. I’m demanding all of her.

She signed a contract with him to become the lady at his beck and call. He claimed, “This is for our mutual benefit. Once the contract expires, we will be nothing but strangers.” However, he broke his promise and refused to let her go. “Liam Ackman, when will you ever let me go?” His thin lips curled up into a smirk as he picked her up bridal style. “Anna Hamilton, you are mine for the rest of your life! Don’t even think about leaving!” Turned out, it had always been a trap, and she fell for it. There was no escaping his grasp! 

I should step back. But I don’t. His hand slides to my waist, firm, deliberate. Not asking. Claiming. My stomach tightens, heat curling low, and I feel every inch of him before I even see him. He’s behind me, close enough that I can feel his breath at my neck. My pulse stutters as his fingers trace slow, unhurried circles up my back, and I know I should pull away… but I can’t. His lips brush my neck. Not a kiss yet, just the promise of it. My head tilts back before I can stop myself, back arching like my body is betraying me. Then he speaks. Low, calm, in control “Don’t make a sound.” A shiver runs through me. Not from fear. Not exactly. From… him. He’s in control. I can’t fight it. I don’t want to. And somewhere deep inside, I realize the terrifying truth: I’m letting him have me.

“I, Caleb Dominic Asher, reject you, Scarlett Rose Davis.” Those words were the most heartbreaking words that I'd ever heard and yet, they didn't sound foreign to me. It didn't come to me as a surprise either. Yes, werewolves were destined to be with their mates but we weren't destined to be. It hurt, but I'll take this pain.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.