The Triplets’ Bookworm

CH 19. -AMBER

AMBER POV

I tried to duck under his arm, my heart hammering in my chest, but Aaron was too quick. His hand shot out, catching my wrist with an ease that made my stomach twist. Before I could take another step, he pulled me back, his grip firm but not painful, anchoring me in place.

“Wait,” he said, his voice sharp but quiet, a command disguised as a request “i’m not done”

“Well I am.” I snapped, yanking against his hold “I’m not waiting for anything,”. My words were bold, but my voice wavered, betraying the storm of emotions tearing through me. His fingers didn’t budge, the warmth of his touch searing through my skin like a brand.

“Amber.” My name on his lips was a warning, low and dangerous, carrying the weight of something primal that made my pulse stutter. A flicker of green in his eyes darkened, swallowed whole by black. His wolf was surfacing, wild and unyielding.

“Let me go, Aaron,” I demanded, the tremor in my voice giving away just how out of control I felt.

But he didn’t release me. Instead, his fingers flexed slightly, grounding me further. “Look up,” he said, his voice softening, but the raw edge of command still lingered.

“What?” My brows furrowed in confusion, my brain too frazzled to process the change in his tone.

“Look up,” he repeated, slower this time, his lips curving into a faint, maddening smirk that made my blood boil.

Against my better judgment, I did.

The sight of a sprig of mistletoe dangling from the doorway above us made my stomach sink. The tiny green leaves and red berries might as well have been neon lights flashing the words *you’re screwed.*

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of my racing heartbeat.

“It’s tradition,” he said, his tone impossibly smug, his fingers sliding down my wrist to clasp my hand. His grip was firm, unrelenting. “One kiss, sunshine. Then I’ll let you go.”

My lips parted, a retort ready to fly, but the words died in my throat when he leaned in.

He didn’t give me a chance to argue.

Aaron’s lips crashed against mine, stealing every ounce of air from my lungs. The kiss wasn’t gentle or sweet, like I’d imagined my first kiss would be. No, this was raw, consuming, and left no room for resistance.

It was raw, demanding, and left no room for hesitation. He pressed me into the wall, his body hard and unyielding against mine, surrounding me in his warmth and his wild, intoxicating scent.

My mind screamed to fight him, to shove him off, to make him stop, but my body betrayed me in the worst possible way. My hands, trembling with equal parts anger and something dangerously close to desire, grabbed the front of his shirt. I meant to shove him away, to put space between us, but instead, my fingers curled into the fabric, clutching him like he was the only thing holding me upright.

Aaron growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me and setting my skin alight. His free hand dropped to my waist, his fingers digging into my hip in a way that made my breath hitch. The rough pad of his thumb brushed against the bare skin just above my dress, sending a shiver racing through me.

The hard press of his chest against mine made my knees weak, and his hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between us. My heart pounded against my ribs as his other hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face just enough for him to deepen the kiss.

And then, he bit my lower lip.

A sharp gasp escaped me, and he took full advantage. His tongue swept into my mouth, unapologetically bold, coaxing a response from me I didn’t want to give—but couldn’t stop myself from offering.

My hands flew to his chest, intending to push him away, but instead, my fingers curled into his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping me standing. My body was a traitor, leaning into him instead of pulling back, and he stirred somewhere deep inside me, something he f*****g shouldnt have stirred because before my brain could stop it, from my lips escaped

a low, approving moan that made me want to die.

He tasted like smoke and spice, wild and addictive, the kind of flavor that made you forget everything except wanting more. His scent wrapped around me, intoxicating and overwhelming, drowning me in him.

I hated it.

I hated how his thumb brushed against the exposed skin just above my dress, sending a shiver racing down my spine. I hated the way his body felt pressed against mine, solid and unyielding, like he was meant to be there. I hated how my heart hammered not in fear, but in something darker, hotter, that I didn’t want to name.

And I hated myself most of all, because I was kissing him back.

The realization hit me like a slap, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. Tentative at first, unsure of myself, I found myself matching the rhythm of his lips, the slide of his tongue, the way he completely overwhelmed me.

He groaned against my mouth, low and guttural, a sound that sent a bolt of heat through me. His hand tightened on my waist, possessive, as if I was his to hold.

The kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was a battle. A battle I was losing with every second that passed.

What the hell was wrong with me?

When Aaron finally pulled back, it was like surfacing for air after being underwater for too long. I gasped, my chest heaving, my lips tingling from the intensity of it all.

His forehead rested against mine, his breath warm and uneven against my face. My eyes fluttered open to find him staring at me, his gaze impossibly dark, his pupils still blown wide with his wolf lingering just beneath the surface.

“That,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “was long overdue, sunshine.”

I wanted to slap that smug look off his face. I wanted to tell him he was insane, that he had no right to do this, to kiss me like that, to make me feel things I didn’t want to feel.

But all I could do was stand there, my body still pressed against his, my lips still tingling from where his had been. Breathing like i have just tuned a f*****g marathon.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, his voice laced with satisfaction.

I glared at him, anger finally surging through the haze of confusion and desire. “You’re an ass,” I spat, shoving at his chest with all the strength I could muster.

He stepped back, the smirk on his lips widening as he let me go. “And you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

I hated him.

I hated how my body still burned from his touch. I hated how my lips still tingled from his kiss.

But most of all, I hated how badly I wanted him to do it again.