Chapter 187: Caine: Restraint

CAINE

Grace whimpers, and I glide the washcloth over her breast, pinching her nipple with the rough fabric. She sucks in a deep breath, her body arching into my touch despite herself, and it takes everything in me not to just throw her to the floor like a wild man.

I’m civilized. Perfectly capable of holding back.

Even if every little shuddering breath of hers wants to rip my control to pieces.

"Where else are you hot, Grace? Here?" I slide the washcloth lower, over the soft plane of her belly.

My cock hardens painfully as she rises on her tiptoes, her body instinctively seeking more. Her legs part in wanton invitation, but I stop at her lower abdomen, hovering just above where she needs me the most.

"Here?" I whisper, my voice rough and breathing heavy.

She nods frantically, her pulse jumping visibly at her throat. The scent of her arousal is better than anything I’ve ever smelled before, and I want it on me every damn minute, every hour, every day of the rest of my life.

"I can smell it." The words are supposed to come out as more of a dominating growl, but it’s more like a needy groan as I hold myself back.

"Don’t say that," she whispers, her cheeks flushing crimson.

"Why not?"

"It’s d-dirty." Her teeth catch her bottom lip as she stares at the ground. Or my hand.

I hope it’s my hand she’s watching, but she’s so fucking bashful, it’s hard to tell.

My fingers press a little harder through the cloth, but don’t travel any lower. "But I can smell how hot you are. How much you want me to touch you. Want me to move a little further..."

Her legs tremble, the muscles in her thighs twitching. Every instinct in me demands I drop to my knees, taste her, claim her, fuck her until she’s breathless and messy and marked beneath me.

Keep yourself under

am under control,

it now?" I ask, fighting for control with every

her head, her blonde hair falling across her face. I want to twist

handle this?" Each breath draws more of her scent

she whispers, the word

want." I need her to

need the

you to touch me... more." Her voice breaks on

"But what about the

Her fingers wrap around my wrist with surprising strength as she shoves

voice sounds strangled, my fingers tense as I fight back the urge to drop the fucking cloth and plunge

around my wrist before she releases me. Her hands fall to her sides, quivering as she jerks them one way, then

too far; my

pull back, though every cell in

at the sink, again, gives me a few seconds to breathe. But this

water drips down her skin, pebbling it, and I groan as her entire body goes

spin her around and ravage

But I hold back.

Again.

Barely.

Grace." My voice is barely human at this point, gritted out

name," she begs,

telling myself it’s okay. My clothes are between us. If the washcloth is

ass back against my cock, nestling its length

Fuck.

this world who can hold back in this

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