Chapter 163: Winner
Lucas didn’t move fast. That would’ve been too easy.
No, he shifted slowly, deliberately, dragging one knee back just far enough to shift his weight, his hips still pressing down against Trevor’s. The friction was maddening, warm, and completely unintentional, if one ignored the gleam in his eyes.
His hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, lifting the fabric inch by inch. The motion revealed skin in waves, sweat-dampened, flushed gold in the muted morning light. He didn’t rush it. He let Trevor watch; the shirt caught briefly under his ribs before it was finally peeled away and tossed aside, forgotten.
Trevor’s hands stayed where they were, gripping Lucas’s hips now with enough force to tremble, but he didn’t move. His jaw clenched. His throat bobbed. But his eyes never left Lucas’s.
Lucas smiled, slow and dangerous.
He braced one hand behind himself on Trevor’s thigh and let the other trail down his own chest, fingers brushing lazily over his own skin. His fingertips circled one nipple with the barest pressure, then ghosted lower, dragging over the sensitive line of his stomach with a kind of sensual cruelty that made himself shiver.
But it wasn’t about his own pleasure. Not entirely.
It was about Trevor. The way the alpha’s breath had deepened. The way his nostrils flared at every subtle movement. The way his pupils were swallowed in black.
Lucas rolled his hips once, a slow, grinding motion that pulled a choked sound from both of them, and then, without looking away, he let his fingers dip beneath the waistband of his sleep pants, resting for a moment on the curve of his ass.
Trevor made a sound—low, rough, half-strangled.