188 Grace: Why Did You Stop?
188 Grace: Why Did You Stop?
“We’re going too far,” he warns.
“I do need to,” Caine counters, his voice a low rumble behind me. “You have no idea
how much.”
“Bend over,” he murmurs, and I do, until my forehead touches the mirror over the sink. The cold countertop is like ice against my heated skin, and he runs the cloth over my back again, the frigid water making my skin pebble with goosebumps.
My eyebrows pull together. “I told you, the energy transfer isn’t… much.”
Caine looks at the cloth on the ground, then grabs another out of the cabinet and walks to the sink again, only inches away from me.
Every inch the cloth travels higher sends ripples of anticipation through my body, slowly dominating the embarrassment.
Awkward? Also yes.
My stomach flips, my core pulses, and I shakily make my way to the sink and hold onto the edge of it. He nudges my feet further apart with his own, the gentle pressure of his foot against mine sending sparks up my legs.
I want more.
I’m not really great at being sexy, so I’m not entirely certain how to pull this man back into the mood.
Though I’m still not sure why he stopped.
My hips wriggle a little with want, and Caine slides the cloth down my back, over my ass, and down my right thigh. Then he pushes against the back of my knee.
I bend my knee obediently, not sure what he’s doing until his hand cups the back of u thigh, lifting it with careful pressure. The cool countertop meets my knee as he positions me, opening me up in a way so debauched I’m… not entirely certain how to feel about it.
If I’m being honest–again–the energy transfer is a little greater now than it was before. Maybe it’s the ambience. But this time, I vow silently to actually pay attention
188 Grace: Why Did You Stop?
to what’s happening and maybe try to control the arcana instead of getting swept up by the man’s words and pseudo–touch.
The place between my legs is wet and aching, water dripping down my thighs, and it’s awkward to still stand here without him… touching me.
He draws in a deep breath and rubs his hands over his face, then through his hair. “You
should.”
But he keeps his fingers flat as he rubs and presses, until a surge of arousal catches me by surprise, my thighs shaking as my entire body tries to stiffen against it.
It isn’t enough.
“But I don’t.”
I nod. I think I am, anyway.
At least my panties are still on, though… I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing at this point.
Way better.
It’s warm after so much contact, rough, and strange as his fingers move in gentle circles, barely brushing against the center of nerves.
Like he’s trying to drive me crazy, knowing I’m already way beyond a couple brushes against my back.
It’s there, but it’s nothing like it is when our skin touches.
Fuck.
“What are you doing?” The question slips out breathless, my lip caught between my teeth as I struggle to maintain what little composure I have.
I’m not entirely certain what to do, actually.
His mouth brushes against my ear, and that tiny point of contact is all it takes f me to explode.
But then he drops his hands, and his eyes are all dark and hot and intense again, and my belly flutters.
<
188 Grace: Why Did You Stop?
“Why did you stop?”
Not worse after all. It’s better.
“Bend over the sink,” Caine says, his voice rough.
It’s a terrible tease as my hips jerk and grind down, but he doesn’t give me what I’m searching for.
The cloth continues its ascent, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh through the damp fabric. My breath hitches, and I press my forehead harder against the mirror, seeking its coolness as my temperature rises.
But when I look at him, at how hard he still is and how his breathing’s heavy and charged, I realize… I didn’t.
How the fuck would he know?
Caine groans.
It’s definitely worse than just standing there awkwardly after he backed off.
The core of me clenches hard, though, greedily accepting anything he does to me and
wanting more.
The washcloth slides from my thigh upward in a torturously slow path, and I change my mind.
My panties are soaked from the cloth and…
Way to sound desperate, Grace.
Am I supposed to close my legs now? Or still stand here with them awkwardly spread out? Do I turn around? How exactly does this work…?
So right now I’m feeling more than a little lost and kind of abandoned in the middle of what was promising to be an amazingly intimate, stolen moment in the middle of the night, and Caine looks… tortured.
He didn’t say playing. Or looking. Or even teasing. No, he had to go with the big guns and come out with worshipping?
Gently.
188 Grace: Why Did You Stop?
The arrogant Lycan in front of me sounds strangely unsure of himself, and I shake my head. “I didn’t.”
When Caine pulls away, my first thought is I did something wrong.
“Worshipping,” Caine says quietly.
I teeter on the tiptoes of my other foot, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The position is precarious and I still have no idea what he’s doing, leaving me off–kilter and not sure how to proceed.
The single word hits me like… I don’t know, something.
“You needed me to…?”
Never mind. I guess my awkward stand–like–a–statue move is working.
“Are you sure?”
“Relax,” he murmurs, and I throw my head back against his shoulder with a groan. Like I’m something sacred and wonderful instead of a girl who wishes this whole energy transfer thing wasn’t an issue so we could do a hell of a lot more than all this teasing.
I want his fingers inside-
But he shakes his head like he can hear what I’m thinking. “I can’t put it inside, Grace. No matter how much you’re aching for it. It won’t feel as good as you think.”
I roll my hips back and lose my balance, but he’s right there, his chest hard and hot against my back as he shoves his palm against the core of me, encouraging me to roll and rock against it.
“You don’t need to-” I start, but my words dissolve into a gasp as the cloth finally makes contact.
Hot? Yes.
Not that there’s much to be had when you have your leg hiked up on a counte..
It’s impossible to completely avoid us touching even then, but they were more like sparks and rushes of energy lasting a second or two, not a constant drain of arcana. And, if I’m being brutally honest–which horny Grace apparently is—it felt really, really
<
188 Grace: Why Did You Stop?
fucking good every time his skin would brush against mine.
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