Page 81 of Defended By Love

I want to cup his ticking jaw in my hand and pull him in for a kiss.

I want to pull him against me and feel him inside me.

Now that I’m not denying it, I can feel this primal attraction, this deep-set need for one another pulsing in my core. Every second that we spend not coming together is another second spent fighting our magnetic pull.

Staying away from him is like trying to deny air.

Like trying to fight gravity.

“I would’ve reset,” I say, reaching up to soothe some of the furrowed lines on his face.

Grant grabs my hand, pulls it away from his face, and pins it against the bed.

My heart races, but not because I’m scared. Between him holding me in place and the seriousness in his eyes, my desire for him is growing into a need. As his chest heaves with intensity over top of me, my panties dampen and my cheeks flush.

Grant’s eyes rove over my body as he leans over me, taking in the squirm of my hips and the blush on my face. His jaw ticks again, but there’s no cooling in his burning eyes.

“I don’t care if you’ll reset, dying is not an option,” he growls.

“No?” I ask, deliberately poking at the beast inside of him. I reach up with my other hand and trail my fingers along the waist of his pants. “I knew you’d catch me, in any case.”

Grant continues to glare at me as the tips of my fingers dance across the front of his pants. When they reach the hard bulge, I stroke my index and middle fingers in hard circles until I’m rewarded with the beginnings of his precum seeping through.

With another growl, Grant grabs that hand and pins it on the other side of my head. His eyes are feral with intensity as he lowers his body against mine. His hard cock pushes against my throbbing core. Nudging at me slightly, my body trembles in response to the feel of him against me.

He doesn’t give me more, though.

He just continues to stare into my very being as I pant with need.

“I don’t think you understand how intensely I feel for you.” He pushes himself against my throbbing clit again, rubbing himself up and down my quickly soaking sex. He stops when a moan escapes me. “I am a very laidback guy—except when it comes to you. When it comes to you, something snaps inside me. I would sooner carve out my own heart than let you get hurt. The rest of the world can burn, everyone else can rot, everything can crumble to dust, if it means keeping you safe.”

“Because you love me.”

Grant’s eyes burn and his nostrils flare. His fingers tighten on my wrists, which makes me squirm against him even more. By now, my panties are drenched and my breath is ragged with need for him.

“You’re finally catching on?”

“Slowly,” I say, wrapping my legs around him to pull him flush against me. Grant rocks against me, making me moan again. This time he doesn’t stop. “Dr. Debbie didn’t have a chapter on supernatural love connections, so I’m having to figure it out as I go.”

“There’s nothing to figure out.” Grant shifts one of my hands over so that he can grip both wrists in one hand. His other hand, he trails down the length of my arm down to my ribcage. His large hand spans half my body. His thumb strokes at the bottom of my breast. “You’re mine, I’m yours, and I’ll do anything to protect you—even from your own stupid plans.”

“My plans are not stupid,” I protest.

Grant narrows his eyes some more. His fingers rove over to the top of my shirt and rip it open, scattering buttons across his floor. He pushes down my bra and grips at my breast, toying just on the cusp of too roughly with my nipple.

“Anything that puts you in danger is a stupid plan.” He pinches my nipple until I cry out in pleasure. “It was doubly stupid not to tell me about your plan before you threw yourself off a cliffside.”

“I’m never stupid. I—” I trail off because his hand has equally trailed off.

With my nipple still tingling from the feel of his attention, he runs his hand down my stomach, memorizing the planes of my body. With nimble fingers, and perhaps a touch of gravity control, he unbuttons my pants easily and throws them off me. His fingers, long and strong, dance down the length of my panties—one finger creeping forward at a time.

“Say it was stupid,” Grant says with a smile playing on his mouth and trouble winking in his eyes.

“No,” I answer because I don’t concede to anyone.

With his hand still holding my wrists above my head, Grant lowers his other hand until his fingers stroke at the soaking wet fabric of my panties. Starting with slow, long strokes, he runs his fingers along the entire underside of my panties. My clit throbs with anticipation, with need, but he lets his hand run its languid path.

I hate it.

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