Page 110 of Grace of a Wolf 1
I grind my teeth together, fighting my body's debauched insistence on letting him do whatever he wants with me. "You tore off my shirt."
He finally lifts his head from the crook of my neck, staring down at me. It shouldn't be as sexy as it is, but here we are, drowning in an ocean of sexually gray boundaries. "It was in the way. I need your skin against mine, Grace. I need your scent. Your warmth."
The possession in his voice sends a contradictory thrill through me. Part of me wants to slap him for his arrogance, while another part—a part I'm not particularly proud of—has already given him the keys to my body, giving him full ownership.
"No," I manage firmly, though my body betrays me by melting further against him. "You can't."
"You're mine," he rumbles, ignoring my protest. "Mine to protect. Mine to..." He trails off, his eyes darkening as they roam over my face.
"To what?" I challenge, my heart hammering against my ribs. As if I'm waiting for a specific answer.
Am I?
Instead of answering, Caine brings his hands to either side of my head before lowering himself onto his elbows. His nose bumps mine. His lips brush against my lips. Once. Twice. Then there's space again as he pulls back, watching me with pupils so dilated only a thin ring of gray remains.
"Just mine," he repeats, his voice rougher than before.
Limbo has me in a chokehold, leaving me hovering between desire and reason.
"What if I don't want to be yours?"
His lips quirk into something almost resembling a smile—the first I've seen from him.
Ah. When did the scary aura around him fade?
"Then why are your legs still wrapped around me?" he asks, light and teasing. Like he's a whole different person from the man who found me in the forest. From the one who dominated an entire pack with his fury. Who told me I was his prisoner.
A fierce blush suffuses my cheeks and I turn my head away from his tempting face. But when I try to unlock my legs, they just… don't listen. They remain wrapped around his waist as he rocks his hips forward, shoving against the most sensitive part of me.
Lyre's shorts, which were already a questionable length to begin with, have ridden up until they barely cover what's necessary. My thighs are completely bare against the heat of his skin, even hidden behind denim.
A soft moan comes out of me unbidden, and Caine chuckles. The sound is dark. An invitation to sin.
"Look at me, Grace."
Chapter fifty-seven
Grace: I'll Ruin You For Anyone Else
No way.
Even if he tells me to, I really can't do it.
I keep my face turned away, staring at the faded flower pattern of the comforter. My pulse has spiked to the stratosphere, but I'm determined not to look at his face. If I do, I'll be lost, dropping so far into the sinful depths of hell, I don't think I'll ever be able to return.
I'm not ready.
"Grace." His voice drops to a silken murmur near my ear.
I squeeze my eyes shut. "Don't."
But he doesn't listen. Instead, warm lips press against my cheek, the contact feather-light and devastatingly sweet. My breath catches as he traces a lazy path across my skin, unhurried, as if he has all the time in the world to map every contour of my face.
"Look at me," he repeats, his breath hot against my temple.
I shake my head, the movement barely perceptible. His answering chuckle vibrates through my bones.
"Stubborn," he whispers, the word not an accusation but something like praise. My hips undulate without permission, and he rocks forward in response.
