Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 57: 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.

I’m putty.

His mouth travels down to my ear, teeth grazing the sensitive shell before his tongue traces the delicate curve. A traitorous shiver wracks through me, and my fingers curl into the hard planes of his chest.

"I can hear your heartbeat, Grace." His lips brush against my ear with each syllable. "It beats for me."

"It’s supposed to beat," I choke out, ruining my attempt at seeming flippant and unaffected.

The wet heat of his tongue dips into the hollow beneath my earlobe, and a soft gasp escapes me before I can trap it behind my teeth. His satisfied hum tells me he caught the sound.

"Your body knows, Grace."

small, too hot. My chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, each inhale laced with his

talking," I manage to say, my voice strained. The sound of his voice is unraveling every

make you stop

lurches, and I suck

chuckles. "Yeah. Just

Asshole.

my jaw. He inhales deeply,

should be terrified. This man kills without hesitation. He tore through a pack like they were nothing. He told

touch as if the Goddess herself had

heat pools low in my belly. His free hand slides up my bare side, palm rough against my skin, fingertips charting a path of goosebumps in

imagined." His thumb slips under the tight band of my bra and traces the underside of my breast, a preview of his

out in shock. He could have fooled me, with all of

face at last. His eyes burn into mine, pupils blown wide with desire, all pretense of control

curve of his lips. "I was beginning to think

caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze as his whole hand finally sneaks up under my bra to cup my breast fully, his thumb brushing across the sensitive peak. My back arches involuntarily, pushing into

beautiful," he breathes. "So

toward his. Time suspends as he hovers above

my nerves, leaving

going to taste you now, Grace," he says, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. "And after

words keep wrecking

his lips against mine is gentle—a stark contrast to the predatory hunger in his eyes. Soft. Testing. As if he’s savoring the initial

pulling him closer. My indecision lasts only seconds before his tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entry. When

—the kiss transforms.

claiming my mouth with the same dominance he wields over everything else. His hand leaves

before sliding up to grip his shoulders, anchoring myself

damp heat, grinding with deliberate pressure; a moan tears out of me, only to be swallowed as he kisses me harder, deeper, until I’m dizzy with want and ready to beg