Twentieth

BLURB "You drive me insane, Carla!" He growled, hoisting me on the desk. His lips brushed my jaw and my breath quickened when he slipped his fingers underneath my red dress. "Fuck, you are not wearing panties," He groaned, gripping my thighs possessively. I was filled with an unnerving amount of neediness and I had my fingers working on his belt in no time. "God, just fuck me already." I moaned, peering at him beneath my lashes. He muttered profanities under his breath, lifted me a little, and plunged into me swiftly. "Fuck!" I moaned, wrapping my legs around him to get more of what he was offering as he pounded into me, burying his head into my neck. "Mine!" He growled into my neck. ༆ Carla Jason and Dawson Walcott were the definitions of opposite attracts. Where Carla was naive—prim, innocent, and not ladylike, Dawson was the typical ruthless fuck-boy, who chased after anything in a skirt, especially the sexy ones. All his life, he had always hoped to meet his mate at his coronation ceremony of being the next Alpha of the Red Moon Pack, which was coming up in a few days but fate had other plans in store. Carla had walked in on him fucking another omega and she wasn't just a random omega to him. She was the omega he had always been in love with. Worse, she turned out to be his mate. Dawson knew how difficult it would be to make her his, given his history and what she had found out about him on the day he realized she was his mate. The complications weren't about to stop Dawson from claiming what was his before her twentieth birthday but was Carla going to allow herself to be vulnerable with a playboy?

When my father's business collapsed, he racked up an astronomical debt to the Andor family. And when they finally came knocking, he did what no loving parent should ever do—he collateralized me, his only daughter, handing me over to Cassian before vanishing off the face of the earth. For ten long years, I stayed by Cassian Andor's side. He treated me with a tenderness so indulgent it bordered on worship. There was nothing I asked for that he would not give; there was no whim of mine he would not entertain. Everyone in our world knew me as his princess. I grew up believing with certainty that once I came of age, he would sweep me into his arms, march me down the aisle, and make me his wife. But reality—cold, brutal, and as dazzlingly cruel as the world we lived in—had other plans. Instead of the ring I had dreamed of, Cassian gifted a breathtaking pink diamond—the very symbol of eternal devotion—to his assistant, Heidi Torres. As if that wasn't betrayal enough, he threw a lavish celebration in her honor, a veritable explosion of flowers. He knew I was deathly allergic to pollen. Yet he still left me stranded there, drowning in a sea of blossoms. Eventually, I collapsed in a violent asthma attack, gasping and clawing for air, teetering on the edge of consciousness. And Cassian? He merely tightened his hold around Heidi in his arms and cast me a cold glance. "Your allergies have been fine for ages," he said with a sneer. "Why the sudden drama today? Don't tell me you're faking it." At that moment, as I lay there humiliated and struggling to breathe, I realized there were exactly seven days left until my twentieth birthday since when I could register a marriage.