Bound To The Cruel Alphas (SPICY)
Then, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it over the back of my desk chair.
I froze.
I wasn’t prepared for that. I should have been. I’d seen pack-raised boys go shirtless in training a hundred times. It meant nothing. But Percy was not those boys. And this wasn’t training. Seeing him sitting on my bed, completely at ease, broad shoulders, abs, all muscle - it short-circuited several parts of my brain at once.
He was perfect.
I stared. I knew I was staring. I couldn’t stop.
“You could take a picture,” Percy said, without looking up from the laptop. “It would last longer.”