The Lost Pack
I pant his name over and over as my fingers thread through his hair.
I’m so lost in the sensation, in the pleasure flowing through me in waves, that I don’t hear anyone approach until the bedroom door flies open.
Remy.
He stands there, his chest heaving, his eyes glowing with something dark and hungry. His gaze locks on me sprawled on Callen’s bed, shirt rumpled, lips kiss-swollen, and then on Callen, smirking up at him from between my legs.
The bond surges between us, a tidal wave of fury and need that makes me gasp.
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