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."

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

say, my voice strained. The sound of

rather make you

I suck

"Yeah. Just

Asshole.

beneath my jaw. He inhales deeply, and the sound is so animal, so wolf, that another shudder ripples through

This man kills without hesitation. He tore through a pack like they were

touch as if the Goddess herself had handed me to him, wrapped in

weight onto one arm, the movement pressing his hips more firmly against mine. The hard ridge of him strains against denim, and 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

the tight band of my bra and traces the underside of my breast, a preview of his ill intentions. "And I’ve imagined it every night. Since I first

breath whooshes out in shock. He could have

to his face at last. His eyes burn into mine, pupils blown wide with desire, all pretense of control stripped away. The raw hunger I find there steals what

curve of his lips. "I was beginning to think you’d

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.

beautiful," he breathes. "So responsive.

my breast to trail up my neck, tilting my face toward his. Time suspends as

races along my nerves, leaving them sparking

his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. "And after this,

words keep

hunger in his eyes. Soft. Testing. As if he’s savoring the initial contact, memorizing the

lasts only seconds

—the kiss transforms.

wields over everything else. His hand leaves my jaw to slide into my hair, fingers tightening as he

his shoulders, anchoring myself against the tide

tears out of me, only to be swallowed as he kisses me harder, deeper, until