He's a 10 but he's....
possessive...
arrogant...
and a total "alpha hole"
Layla is thrust into a world she never knew existed, but don't worry for every naive female there's a sexy werewolf waiting round the bend for a chance to school her in the wa...
"Layla," Jaxson's voice cut through the hallway, catching me off guard as I stepped out of the room.
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I turned to face him, the weight of his gaze heavy on me. There was an unfamiliar intensity in his eyes, something that stirred both attraction and wariness within me. His presence, towering and commanding, filled the space between us, creating a tension that crackled like electricity in the air.
He looked devastatingly handsome in his suit, every line and curve of him. Despite my inner turmoil, I couldn't deny the pull between us.
I swallowed, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside me as I met his gaze. "Jaxson."
His jaw tightened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before it was masked by a cool facade. "You look..." He paused, his eyes scanning me in a way that made my skin prickle with awareness.
"Like a deer caught in headlights?" I offered, attempting to diffuse the tension with a touch of humor, though my heart raced beneath the surface.
He chuckled softly, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "No, far from it." His voice was laced with an underlying hunger that sent a jolt of heat through me. He ran a finger up the length of my side where the dress was split.
Holy hell! I was burning on the inside. My body lit like a bonfire from that one touch.
I took a step back instinctively, creating distance between us. "What do you want, Jaxson?" My tone was sharper than intended.
He took a deliberate step closer, closing the gap I had created. His eyes bore into mine, intense and probing. "I want you."
His words hung in the air between us, laden with unspoken implications. I could feel the weight of his expectations pressing down on me, the pressure to conform to a role I hadn't chosen. I shook my head part denying what he had just said and part trying to dispel the haze of need his words had placed on me.
His expression hardened momentarily, a glint of stubborn determination flashing in his eyes. "You are mine," he stated firmly, his voice brooking no argument. "And tonight, they will see that."
The air thickened with unresolved tension, the conflicting desires warring within me—my resistance to his claim on me, and the undeniable pull of attraction that simmered beneath the surface.
As we stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills, I realized that despite the magnetic pull between us, there was a part of me that resisted, that questioned whether I could ever truly belong in this world or belong to him.
He had said so many times that I was his— but was he MINE?
