Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 56: Grace: I Can’t Let You Go

We stay like this for what feels like forever.

Desire once boiled in my veins, but now simmers, left untended. Mundane issues shove away the fog of arousal and obsessive cataloguing of each breath he takes.

My back hurts.

He’s got me partially bent over his arm, and the unnatural position leaves me off-kilter, my balance thwarted and my core muscles begging for a gym membership.

I pat Caine’s back gently at first. A tentative tap-tap against rigid muscles, warm and soft beneath my hands. No response. His face remains buried in the crook of my neck, his breathing deep and ravenous, like he’s inhaling me into his soul. Sometimes, I almost feel like he really is—like something inside of me is being absorbed into him. But it’s just my addled imagination going haywire.

"Caine," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the aggressive drone of all three of the RV’s air conditioning units.

Another grunt. He nuzzles closer, his stubble scraping against the sensitive skin below my ear. A shiver runs through me, desire spiking sharp and hot before fading back to a dull throb.

My pats turn firmer. More insistent. The gentle rhythm becomes an urgent drumming against his broad back.

"Caine." Louder this time, my voice steady even as my legs tremble beneath their demand. "Caine, please."

But he’s lost somewhere I can’t follow. His grip tightens fractionally, and I feel the hard planes of his chest press against mine with each breath he takes. A tremor passes through him, and an answering shiver of want flares dangerously low in my abdomen.

And then it’s gone again, doused by the growing ache in my spine.

"You’re going to snap me in half," I finally gasp, shoving against his shoulders. I’m desperate for relief. "Please, let me go. My back hurts!"

His entire body goes stiff.

For one blessed moment, I think he’s heard me. That he’ll release me and let blood flow back into my cramping limbs and ease my body’s muscle failure.

vise crushing me against him. His grip becomes almost

my skin. "I can’t let you

in his words is enough to stem my rising irritation. This isn’t the terrifying Lycan King speaking. This isn’t even the overbearing Caine who stormed into the camper

another him entirely, something broken and vulnerable.

I wrap my arms around him again, patting his back gently as

ripped off my shirt, my mind had gone straight into the gutter, assuming a much more sordid situation to come. Unfortunately, he hasn’t done a thing except... breathe. A

I just say

to my question at all. Then his hands drop lower, fingers curving around my ass and pressing dangerously close

My breath hitches.

around his neck, my legs flying around his waist on their own accord. A small shriek escapes my lips, echoing through

has the relief

"What are you—"

even look at me. His face remains buried in the crook of my neck, puffing out hot breaths as we walk the few steps to Lyre’s daybed. Each movement jostles me against him,

returns

around him for stability, and he

my skin, his voice rough like gravel. "Stop, or I’ll

hits me. He

ask blankly. "You consider what you’re doing right

into the soft flesh there. The daybed creaks under our combined weight as he lowers us down, somehow managing to keep me straddling

my back, I slide my arms from

me crazy," he interrupts, pressing soft kisses against my

letting him

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

me wants to slap him for his arrogance, while another