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.
He didn’t say playing. Or looking. Or even teasing. No, he had to go with the big guns and come out with worshipping?
The single word hits me like… I don’t know, something.
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