Grace of a Wolf - Chapter 222

Chapter 222: Grace: “Stargazing”
Caine’s bizarre behavior is too much for my sleepy brain to compute, and for some reason he seems to be hiding something from me, only looking at me from over his shoulder.

It’s too dark to make out what he’s doing, but also I have to admit I’m not really focused on figuring it out. Instead, I’m trying not to stare at his butt or how broad his shoulders are or how he smells so damn good.

The man’s turning me into a closet pervert and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

“Do you want to look at the stars?” he blurts out.

I blink. “The stars?”

“Yes. Outside.” He gestures vaguely toward the door with something big and bulky in his hand, only to jerk it out of sight again and hold it in front of him. “It’s clear tonight.”

He wants to go stargazing? At oh-dark-thirty?

I should say no. I should go back to bed, where Sara and Bun are sprawled across my mattress like tiny dictators. I should absolutely not follow this man outside where anyone might see us while wondering if he’s going to slam me against his truck and have his wicked way with me.

Wow, my imagination’s really broadening these days.

“Okay,” I say, and it’s not because I’m tempted by the strange thoughts going through my head. It’s not.

The night air hits my bare legs as Caine opens the door, and I immediately regret not grabbing pants. At least I’m wearing panties this time, though, and the shirt is oversized enough to cover my thighs.

Still, I tug at the hem, trying to make it longer through sheer willpower as Caine does an awkward waddle out the door and tosses something under the camper.

I reach for the light switch for the strip lights on the camper’s exterior, but he suddenly jumps up the few steps to cover my hand with his.

“Don’t,” he says softly.

His touch sends a familiar jolt through me—the strange, electric current that connects us, mixed with the brain-melting heat of desire.

“Okay,” I whisper, completely lost to whatever sexual siren call he’s putting out. My inhibitions are very clearly zero.

He releases my hand, and I miss his touch immediately.

Everything is quiet and still; this isn’t a bustling area at any time of day or night, but I wonder how many people are in the shadows watching. There’s no way Ellie doesn’t have at least one spy on me at all times.

The whole “secret relationship” plan is unraveling by the minute, and I can’t make myself care a single bit.

Caine suddenly stops, and I nearly crash into his back. He turns and grabs my wrist, his grip gentle but firm.

“Don’t trip and fall,” he says quietly, like he isn’t the reason I almost did.

Still… he has a point. In the darkness, I can barely make out the ground, much less the details of it. And I’m barefoot.

“Okay,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, letting him guide me to Lyre’s truck.

He opens the passenger door, not the tailgate.

I slide in, confused. If we’re supposed to be stargazing, why are we getting inside the vehicle…?

Before I can ask, Caine nudges my hip, pushing me toward the middle seat. I scoot over, my sleep-shirt riding up dangerously high. He climbs in beside me and slams the door, plunging us into silence. The little bit of natural noise outside is gone and only the harsh beating of my heart remains.

“What are you—”

My question dissolves into a squeak as he grabs my waist and hauls me into his lap, my legs straddling his thighs. He’s all hard muscle and radiating heat and…

Ahem.

Other things.

I’m suddenly, acutely upset I’m no longer commando.

“You can look at the stars through the windshield if you want,” he says with a smile. But he’s positioned me facing him, my back to the windshield, making his suggestion completely ridiculous.

It’s clear star-gazing is not the point of us leaving the camper tonight, and my face flushes.

My head spins from exhaustion, arousal, and the sudden energy transfer happening where our bodies connect. It’s flowing out of me faster now, making me lightheaded and warm. I lick my lips, trying to think clearly.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Me neither,” he admits, “but I’ll go crazy if I don’t touch you.”

His warm hands encircle my wrists and tugs me down with gentle force, until our foreheads press together in a strangely innocent, intimate moment, even as I can feel the hard length of him pressing against me from below.

His exhale warms my face, smelling faintly of chocolate.

“I won’t kiss you,” he promises. “I just want to hold you for a little bit. Can you handle it?”

“Yes,” I whisper, mentally kicking myself for not even trying to get control over it from the beginning. I was too busy being dazzled by his… assets.

Sucking in a deep breath, I close my eyes, trying to focus on the torrent of arcana flowing between us. Something’s different about it tonight. The usual wild rush feels… tamer. More contained. Almost obedient, even. When I mentally nudge it to calm down, it actually does, leaving me wildly confused.

“Are you upset with me?” Caine asks, and I open my eyes to shake my head at him.

“Just confused, because it’s easier to control than before.”

He nuzzles his nose against my cheek. Warm breath assaults my ear, sending a tremor through my entire body. “Mmm… Have you been practicing?”

I have, actually, in stolen moments on the road. Testing how quickly I can sense the energy in objects, specifically in cars zooming past. I hadn’t realized how second-nature it’s become until the laundromat earlier today. The way I zeroed in on the first dollar bill wasn’t random; once I’d pinpointed what I was looking for, I’d known there was something there.

Is it possible that even this little bit of practice has had this much effect…?

“A little, but—”

The rest of my sentence dissolves into a gasp as Caine bites my earlobe, my body stiffening when his hips rock up against mine. Heat surges through me, pooling low in my belly, and I grind down without thinking.

“You said you wouldn’t kiss me,” I accuse, though my voice is a little too breathy and melted to have much impact.

“I’m not kissing you, Grace.” He drags his teeth down the side of my neck, flicking his tongue against my skin, then bites firmly.

A whimper escapes me, and my control over the arcana flowing between us falters. It surges again, wilder now, responding to the spike in my pulse. He slides his hands down, linking his fingers slowly with mine, and the feel of our fingers rubbing together sends electricity zapping up my limbs, then down into the core of me. I shiver, every nerve ending achingly aware of everywhere we touch.