Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 188

Chapter 188: Grace: Why Did You Stop?

When Caine pulls away, my first thought is I did something wrong.

But when I look at him, at how hard he still is and how his breathing’s heavy and charged, I realize... I didn’t.

Though I’m still not sure why he stopped.

"Why did you stop?"

Way to sound desperate, Grace.

"You needed me to...?"

The arrogant Lycan in front of me sounds strangely unsure of himself, and I shake my head. "I didn’t."

He draws in a deep breath and rubs his hands over his face, then through his hair. "You should."

"But I don’t."

The place between my legs is wet and aching, water dripping down my thighs, and it’s awkward to still stand here without him... touching me.

I’m not entirely certain what to do, actually.

Caine groans.

"We’re going too far," he warns.

My eyebrows pull together. "I told you, the energy transfer isn’t... much."

It’s there, but it’s nothing like it is when our skin touches.

It’s impossible to completely avoid us touching even then, but they were more like sparks and rushes of energy lasting a second or two, not a constant drain of arcana. And, if I’m being brutally honest—which horny Grace apparently is—it felt really, really fucking good every time his skin would brush against mine.

So right now I’m feeling more than a little lost and kind of abandoned in the middle of what was promising to be an amazingly intimate, stolen moment in the middle of the night, and Caine looks... tortured.

But then he drops his hands, and his eyes are all dark and hot and intense again, and my belly flutters.

"Are you sure?"

I nod. I think I am, anyway. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Caine looks at the cloth on the ground, then grabs another out of the cabinet and walks to the sink again, only inches away from me.

Am I supposed to close my legs now? Or still stand here with them awkwardly spread out? Do I turn around? How exactly does this work...?

I’m not really great at being sexy, so I’m not entirely certain how to pull this man back into the mood.

"Bend over the sink," Caine says, his voice rough.

Never mind. I guess my awkward stand-like-a-statue move is working.

My stomach flips, my core pulses, and I shakily make my way to the sink and hold onto the edge of it. He nudges my feet further apart with his own, the gentle pressure of his foot against mine sending sparks up my legs.

If I’m being honest—again!—the energy transfer is a little greater now than it was before. Maybe it’s the ambience. But this time, I vow silently to actually pay attention to what’s happening and maybe try to control the arcana instead of getting swept up by the man’s words and pseudo-touch.

"Bend over," he murmurs, and I do, until my forehead touches the mirror over the sink. The cold countertop is like ice against my heated skin, and he runs the cloth over my back again, the frigid water making my skin pebble with goosebumps.

Gently.

Like he’s trying to drive me crazy, knowing I’m already way beyond a couple brushes against my back.

My hips wriggle a little with want, and Caine slides the cloth down my back, over my ass, and down my right thigh. Then he pushes against the back of my knee.

I bend my knee obediently, not sure what he’s doing until his hand cups the back of my thigh, lifting it with careful pressure. The cool countertop meets my knee as he positions me, opening me up in a way so debauched I’m... not entirely certain how to feel about it.

Way better.

The single word hits me like... I don’t know, something.

He didn’t say playing. Or looking. Or even teasing. No, he had to go with the big guns and come out with worshipping?

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