Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 264

Chapter 264: Grace: ... Right?

The console digs into my ribs. I don’t care.

My knee slips, threatening to honk the horn. I don’t care about that either.

All I care about is the way he angles my head for better access, the growl that vibrates through his chest when I nip at his bottom lip, the—

Wait.

Wait.

My hands push against his shoulders. Not hard, just enough to create space for words.

"Caine—"

He follows my retreat, stealing another kiss. Shorter but no less intense.

"Caine, this is—" Another kiss. My thoughts scatter. "This is really—"

His teeth graze my bottom lip, and I lose the sentence entirely.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. The vibration hums through my knee, my hip, the hand he has pressed flat against the small of my back.

Neither of us moves.

The buzzing stops. His mouth finds the spot just below my ear, and whatever rational thought was forming dissolves into the warm, dark scent of him. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt—

The phone buzzes again.

"Fuck."

The word rumbles through Caine’s chest and into mine. He doesn’t pull away, just shoves a hand between us and into his too-tight pocket. Eventually he manages to pull the device out, still buzzing somehow, and brings the phone to his ear.

"What."

It’s... not a question. Definitely a threat.

There’s an unfamiliar voice on the other end. Something about early arrivals. Two packs? Two packs of what?

Oh.

Packs.

Right.

Caine’s jaw flexes against my temple. His breath stirs my hair.

"Which packs."

Again, not a question, and each syllable is squeezed between gritted teeth. Whoever’s on the other end deserves a prayer.

More talking. Stuff like expecting to meet with you tonight.

It’s enough to take me from full-on horny to oh-my-god mortifying.

Yeah.

Mortifying.

I’m straddling the Lycan King in his truck. In public. Not in the dark this time. And there are way too many eyeballs on the other side of these windows.

My shirt is shoved up on one side, with one hand having snuck its way up until his thumb rests against the curve of my breast, rubbing there as he scowls at the ceiling, still listening to whoever it is on the other end.

My hair—um, I don’t even want to think about my hair.

Movement catches the corner of my eye. Andrew, doing something with the still-stiff Ellie.

Yeah. If the picture of mortifying isn’t clear enough yet, seeing Ellie definitely serves as a bucket of ice water.

Oh God.

Oh God.

I push back. Caine’s arm tightens around me reflexively, but he doesn’t even pause his conversation.

"Then find them rooms. The lodge has space on the second floor."

"Caine," I hiss, pushing harder, both palms now flat against his chest. "Let me go—I need to—"

His hand slides from my waist to my thigh and stays there, holding me in place like I weigh nothing. Must be nice to be strong.

The concept of me leaving his lap? Summarily denied.

"They can survive one night without a face-to-face," he says into the phone, sounding like a damn brick wall with a voice. "I don’t care if it’s what they want."

His gaze cuts to me then, looking surprised. Like me straddling him in public is just something I should be okay with.

Hair. Fix my hair first. I rake my fingers through the tangled mess, finding knots where his hands were. My shirt gets tugged down, smoothed, then tugged again because it rode up that far. My breathing sounds like I just finished a sprint, so I clamp my mouth shut and breathe through my nose instead, which doesn’t help because all I can smell is him—warm, dark, musky, everywhere.

He’s still talking, which is really just the occasional flat denial of some request, and I turn resolutely to stare through the windshield and not at the living temptation sitting beside me.

Caine hangs up. The phone drops onto the console with a flat clack.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify