Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 189: Grace: Oh My Goddess

The sound of my harsh breathing is all I can hear after I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to think about how I desperately need to change my underwear.

And how the washcloth will actually need to be used for its proper purpose.

And how I’m really, really hoping Andrew’s dead fucking asleep, because if he isn’t, he fucking knows what happened in here and I. Am. Mortified.

Horny Grace has already gotten what she wanted—well, to an extent—and has fled in the face of rational, calm, normal, oh-my-Goddess-what-did-we-do Grace.

Caine’s warmth disappears from my back, and the wicked washcloth suddenly starts wiping down my thighs with a more clinical touch.

My body doesn’t care what his intentions are, because it gets all sparky and ready for round two, but I shove down all those embarrassing thought processes before they get started, realizing I’m a little... dizzy.

Cloth barrier or not, there was still some energy transferring. And it definitely got more intense toward the end. And... I’d told myself I was going to focus on it and didn’t.

Not even a little bit.

I was rather... preoccupied.

Caine taps against my knee, and each one sends a flush of arcana his way, not that he seems aware of it at all.

Obediently lowering my leg and straightening so I’m a little less wanton, I crack my eyes open and peer over my shoulder.

He’s kneeling behind me, looking focused and calm as he wipes what I’m pretending is water, okay, water, off my legs.

Then the floor.

And then he stands, and my eyes are now wide, wide open as they stare directly at his crotch.

Horny Grace got what she wanted. She did. And she definitely shouldn’t throw a fit over it, because Caine’s little friend—scratch that, his very large, very obvious friend—did not get the same treatment.

up my neck so

against the counter on either side of me. His body cages mine without actually touching it, and the heat of him radiates against my back, and his gaze meets mine in the mirror

Cannot go further. Bad

Grace?" he asks, his voice a low,

Nope.

Nuh-uh.

Not taking this invitation.

to my clit and I squeeze

a fucking tree with

I think.

Maybe.

I’m done. Scratch that, I need capitals: I’m DONE. I got what I needed. I do not need to react this way. This bathroom is approximately seventy square feet (give or take fifty since math and geometry are not my

of personal quotas tonight. From

it a full moon? It kind of feels

quiet way too long, staring fixedly at the sink drain and not the giant batch of temptation pinning me against the counter with

against my ear, warm and knowing. "Did you get more control

Hadn’t even tried. Wanted to, but my brain

shake my head, unable to

of acknowledgement, not

easy in this tiny space to avoid contact, and my bare skin slides against the counter’s edge, which feels really warm after leaning against it for so long. I let my gaze land somewhere in the region of

little... distracted,"

Brilliant line choices,

glance, I swear—at the hard length of him still readily visible against his pants. My lips feel suddenly dry, and I wet

"Does it... hurt?"

I watch intently, unable to tear my eyes away from

something for

His voice.