**BOOK THREE**
Still grieving the loss of his mate, twenty-four-year-old Tatum Knowles isolated himself from the rest of his pack. With the strength of both his pack and himself being questioned by those around them, the last thing Tatum planned to...
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Having Tatum's lips on mine was something I would never get used to, and I didn't want to. Each time it felt like something blossomed between us—like it was the first time—and each time kept me coming back for more. Some people were addicted to alcohol, but I was addicted to the green-eyed man in front of me, and fuck, I didn't want that feeling ever to go away.
"If we continue this, then I'm not going to be able to stop," Tatum warned.
"Who said I wanted you to stop?" I asked. That was the exact opposite of what I wanted. He stared at me, and I leaned in to kiss him once again. "Let's keep it going."
Tatum's eyes flickered with lust, and his hand intertwined with my own. We stood from the couch, and Tatum moved toward the stairs, but I stopped him.
"There's a room down here," I said as I led him down the hall beside the stairway.
The moment I opened the door, we collided with each other again. Tatum took the time to shut the door before his hand moved to my shirt, and his hand slipped underneath. I shivered slightly at the skin-to-skin contact but also leaned into it, wanting more. I wanted everything he'd give me. Maybe that was selfish, but I didn't care.
My lips moved away from his and down toward his neck. As werewolves, we healed quicker than others, and while I knew they wouldn't last as long as they would on a human's body, I wanted to leave hickeys. Even if I was the only one who'd see them, I wanted to know they were there because of me. Because I put them there.
Hearing the sounds that escaped Tatum's mouth as I did so filled me with pride. He began to remove my shirt, and I briefly stopped my actions in order to help him do so and to take off his as well.
With shirts discarded onto the floor, we fumbled onto the bed. From my spot, I reached over and pulled open the dresser, and grabbed a bottle of lube. Tatum's eyebrows raised, and his eyes traveled around the room.
"Your scent suffocates this room, and not to mention there's more stuff down here than in your room upstairs, so why aren't you sleeping here?"
The question was one that I was sure he already knew the answer to. My face heated slightly, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Stop analyzing the room and focus on me."
A smile took over his face, and not a fake one—a genuine one that caused my heart to palpitate.
"Trust me, Nixon; my eyes are all on you."
A smile broke out on my face, and I pulled him to me and kissed him.
