Ch. He Marked Another Luna, So She Slept With His Alpha Brother 119 He Marked Another Luna, So She Slept With His Alpha Brother 119

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< You Marked Her. Now You’re Mad I Slept with Your Brother? 

Chapter 119 

Camila’s POV Post) 

Back in my apartment, I was ready to call it a night. It was getting late, and I had to grab some rest so could return to the hospital early the next morning to see my grandmother. As I headed towards the bathroom, my eyes caught the gift bag from Anabela the coach. Curiosity made me open the bag to take another look at the lingerie. 

One was a tiny, pinkish–purple thing with delicate straps, lace details around the waist and an open back the hem was so short I doubted it would cover much beyond my hips. I stared at it for a moment before shaking my head. Absolutely not. 

I dropped it over the arm of the couch and picked up my regular nightwear. Whatever Anabela had in mind when she chose that outfit, I wasn’t about to entertain it. 

After my shower, I stepped out of the bathroom, drying my hair with a towel. A knock at the door made me 

pause. 

“Who is it? Just a moment!” 

I glanced at the security monitor and froze when Roman’s face appeared on the screen. What was he doing here? 

I quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Roman? Is something wrong?” 

His gaze moved over me briefly. I had just showered, and the faint scent of my body wash still clung to my skin. His nostrils flared almost imperceptibly, and for a second, his expression seemed to change. 

He lifted the takeaway bag in his hand. “You mentioned that I owed you a thank–you. I thought I’d start with dinner. Have you eaten?” 

I shook my head. “Not yet. I came straight from the hospital.” 

“Then we’re even. I haven’t eaten either.” 

“Come in.” 

He walked past me and placed the food on the coffee table before dropping onto the couch. I was about to close the door when I heard him pause. “What is this?” 

I turned. Roman was holding up the lingerie Anabela had given me. His fingers pinched one of its delicate straps, while his eyes travelled over the lace and barely–there fabric. 

Oh, no! I’d completely forgotten I’d left it there. His brows lifted, and a teasing smile slowly spread across his face. “Interesting taste, Camila. I didn’t know you had a side like this.” 

“Roman, put that down.” 

He held it up a little higher, inspecting it with exaggerated interest. 

“Is this what you wear when you want to impress someone?” 

” 

I rushed towards him, reaching for the garment. He lifted his hand just beyond my reach. “Give it back!” 

His eyes glinted with amusement. “Should I assume you wear it for someone special?” 

He chuckled, but his expression changed slightly as his gaze returned to the lingerie. Then he looked at me again. I was standing there in my ordinary pajamas, my hair still damp from the shower. I could feel the 

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warmth creeping into my cheeks. His eyes lingered on me, and I became suddenly conscious of how close e was. Something about his scent seemed stronger in the quiet apartment. My wolf stirred faintly, responding to his presence. 

“Why do men always assume a woman dresses to impress someone else?” I demanded. “Can’t I wear something simply because I like it? Why does there have to be a man involved?” 

His lips curved into an amused smile. “Then why not show me how it looks on you?” 

I gave him an incredulous look. “I’m wearing it for myself. Why should I put on a fashion show for youx Resides 

, why don’t you take off your clothes and let me admire you instead?” 

Roman’s smile widened. “I’m perfectly fine with that. Should I start now?” 

I stared at him. He was completely shameless. “Don’t bother. I have absolutely no interest in seeing you 

undressed. You’re not even that impressive.” 

His eyebrows rose. “Not impressive?” 

I shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. “That’s what I said.” 

“Camila, are you making an honest assessment or deliberately teasing me?” 

I knew perfectly well that Roman took good care of himself. His broad shoulders and solid build were hardly a secret, and I had more than enough personal knowledge to dispute my own statement. But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. 

“Can you just give me my clothes?” I reached for the lingerie again. He moved it away, and I lunged after it. 

“Roman!” 

“What’s the hurry?” 

“Because you’re being annoying!” I tried to grab it from his raised hand, but he was considerably taller and had no intention of making things easy. Frustrated, I leaned across him, one hand gripping his shoulder for balance as I stretched towards the garment. My fingers finally caught the fabric. I pulled it free, but in the process, I lost my balance. Before I could recover, I found myself sitting across one of his thighs, my hand still resting on his shoulder. I froze. 

Our faces were mere inches away. Close enough for me to notice the slight change in his breathing, the intensity of his gaze and the way his wolf seemed to stir beneath his skin. My own wolf responded to his nearness, suddenly alert. For a moment, neither of us moved. 

The lingerie was still clutched in my hand, but I’d completely forgotten about it. My other hand remained on his shoulder, and I could feel the warmth of his body beneath my palm and the thickness of his scent floating around my sitting room. 

My cheeks grew hot. I tried to lift myself off his thigh, but Roman caught my wrist. Before I could pull away, 

he drew me back towards him. 

“Didn’t you just say I wasn’t impressive?” His voice had dropped, taking on a rougher edge. “Since you’re so certain, why don’t you feel it for yourself?” 

Roman’s POV 

The moment her fingers brushed the thin fabric of my shirt, every muscle in my body locked. I guided her hand lower, deliberate, until her palm flattened against the hard planes of my abs. Heat radiated off me–too much heat. The kind that had nothing to do with the room and everything to do with the wolf under my skin, restless and too close to the surface. 

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Camila was sitting so close her thigh pressed against mine. Her scent filled my lungs, sweet and sharp with nerves, and it hit me like a physical blow. The fabric of my shirt might as well have been nothing. Her palm was warm. Soft. And the second she realized what else was happening beneath my black slacks, her entire body went rigid. 

I felt the exact second her eyes dropped. My cock was already hard, straining against the material, impossible to hide when she was this near. The wolf inside me stirred, low and possessive, pleased by the way her breath caught. I kept my hand lightly over hers for one more second, letting her feel the heat he tension, the undeniable proof of what she did to me. 

Then–She yanked her hand back like she’d been burned. Color flooded her face. She shot to her feet sast the couch creaked. 

“I don’t wanna touch it!” Her voice came out higher than usual, edged with panic. “If someone else’s into that, good for them, but I’m out!” 

She snatched the lingerie off my arm and practically fled, bare feet slapping against the floor as she disappeared into the bedroom. The door shut harder than necessary. I heard the drawer slam a second later. 

I stayed where I was, elbows on my knees, head bowed. My pulse still thundered in my throat. The wolf wanted 

to follow. Wanted to crowd her against the nearest wall and make her admit what that flushed, wide–eyed look had really meant. I forced a slow breath through my nose, then another, until the urge settled into something more manageable. Only then did I reach for my phone. 

The search bar blinked at me. I typed the question half–jokingly, half because I needed the distraction. Why 

don’t women like touching abs? 

The top reply made the corner of my mouth curve. It depends. Sometimes it’s not that they don’t like it – they’re just shy. Girls get embarrassed easily. Back when I was flirting with my girlfriend, she’d act all tough, say she wasn’t into it, but her face was redder than a tomato. Look, if she’s blushing and looking away, that’s not rejection. If she really didn’t like it, she’d’ve smacked you across the face by now. 

Dozens of similar comments followed. Stories about red faces and shaky denials and the way some women ran from the very thing that clearly affected them. I locked the screen and set the phone aside. So Camila 

was just shy. 

My wolf rumbled in quiet agreement, already calculating how long it would take before she stopped running. I leaned back against the couch, still hard, still burning, and let myself grin into the empty living room. Shy was fine. I could work with shyness. 

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