Page 32 of Falling for My Shifter Defender

"And then we came here, and you..." she turns back to me, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You didn't just give us shelter. You gave us a future. You showed Willow what it means to be protected, not just hidden."

My throat tightens with emotion. "Grace—"

"I've been so afraid," she confesses, her voice gaining strength. "Not just of the hunters, but of wanting you—wanting this. Of believing I could be yours."

She steps toward me, closing the distance she created. "But you know what scares me more than staying?" Her hand reaches up to cup my cheek, her touch tentative yet determined. "The thought of walking away from this. From you."

A slow smile spreads across her face, transforming her features. She looks younger, lighter, as if some invisible weight has finally lifted from her shoulders.

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm choosing you," she says softly.

Relief and joy surge through me, primal and possessive. I pull her to me, my hand firm on the back of her neck as I claim her mouth with mine. The kiss begins tender but swiftly turns fierce, a collision of need and months of pent-up desire. Her scent envelops me—sunshine and lavender and something uniquely Grace—and my wolf rumbles with satisfaction.Mine. Finally mine.

Her arms wind around my neck, her body pressing against mine as the kiss intensifies. I can feel every curve of her, soft where I'm hard, yielding where I'm unyielding. Heat rises between us, familiar and urgent, but I force myself to pull back, breathing hard.

"Not here," I murmur, my forehead pressing against hers as I fight for control. "Not on dirt and sawdust. You deserve silk sheets and moonlight, a place where I can worship every inch of you."

Grace grins, her eyes dancing with mischief as she presses her hips against mine. "You're such a romantic."

"Don't tell anyone," I growl, already leading her back to the truck, my hand possessively splayed across her lower back. "I have a reputation to maintain."

The drive back to my cabin feels endless, though it's only fifteen minutes. We sit in charged silence, her hand clasped in mine on the console, her thumb tracing maddening circles against my palm. Every few seconds, I steal a glance at her profile—the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lower lip, the pulse beating visibly at the base of her throat. The scent of her arousal fills the cab, making my grip on the steering wheel tighten until the leather creaks.

"I can smell how much you want me," I tell her, my voice a low rumble. "It's driving me crazy."

A blush spreads across her cheeks, but instead of pulling away, she leans closer. "Good," she whispers, her breath hot against my ear. "I've been waiting long enough."

When we finally reach the cabin, I kill the engine and turn to her. "Last chance to back out, sweetheart. Because once we start, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

Grace's answer is to lean across the console and press her lips to mine, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of my mouth. "I don't want you to stop," she breathes against my lips. "I want all of you. The man and the wolf."

Something primal and possessive roars to life inside me. I'm out of the truck and around to her side in seconds, moving with inhuman speed. As soon as her feet hit the ground, I sweep her into my arms, cradling her against my chest as I carry her to the front door. She laughs, the sound bright and free, her head falling back to expose the delicate line of her throat.

"I like it when you laugh," I tell her, unable to resist pressing my lips to the pulse point at her neck. "I want to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life."

Her arms tighten around my neck as I fumble with the key, my coordination compromised by the feel of her body against mine and the intoxicating scent of her desire.

"Careful," she teases, her breath warm against my neck as she nips at my earlobe. "You might give a girl the wrong idea about how coordinated you are."

I growl, low and warning, as I finally get the door open. "I assure you, sweetheart, coordination won't be an issue once we're inside. I've imagined this moment too many times to mess it up now."

Her heartbeat quickens, and I smile, satisfied with the effect my words have on her. The door swings open, and I carry her over the threshold, kicking it shut behind us. Without breaking stride, I head straight for the bedroom, my need for her growing with each step.

The moment we cross the bedroom threshold, something snaps between us. The patience we've both maintained for weeksdissolves in an instant. I press her against the wall, my hands braced on either side of her head, my body flush against hers. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I've wanted to touch you since the day you walked into my life," I murmur, my voice rough with need. "Every night, I've lain awake thinking about what you'd feel like beneath me, around me, coming apart for me." I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. "But I waited—because you're worth every second of torture."

Grace doesn't hesitate. She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me to her, our mouths crashing together in a kiss that's all teeth and tongue and pent-up longing. It's messy and impatient, our hands roaming, tugging at clothes, gasps and growls echoing in the quiet cabin.

I lift her effortlessly, and her legs wrap around my waist, the heat of her core pressing against my hardness, separated only by the fabric of our clothes. I groan into her mouth, my control slipping as I carry her to the bed without breaking the kiss. I set her down gently, hovering over her, struggling to maintain some semblance of restraint.

"You're so beautiful," I whisper, tracing the curve of her jaw with my thumb. "I want to see all of you."

Grace reaches for the hem of my shirt, tugging it upward. "Too many clothes," she murmurs against my lips. "I need to feel your skin against mine."

I pull back just long enough to strip off my shirt, revealing the chest she's seen before but never been free to touch. Her hands immediately explore the planes of my torso, fingers tracing old scars and the contours of muscle. When she reaches the waistband of my jeans, her touch grows hesitant.

"Don't stop now," I encourage, my voice a low rumble as I capture her wrist and guide her hand lower, letting her feel how hard I am for her. "Feel what you do to me."

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