Page 16

A blush spreads across her cheeks, but instead of pulling away, she leans closer. "Good," she whispers, her breath hot against my ear. "I've been waiting long enough."

When we finally reach the cabin, I kill the engine and turn to her. "Last chance to back out, sweetheart. Because once we start, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

Grace's answer is to lean across the console and press her lips to mine, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of my mouth. "I don't want you to stop," she breathes against my lips. "I want all of you. The man and the wolf."

Something primal and possessive roars to life inside me.

I'm out of the truck and around to her side in seconds, moving with inhuman speed.

As soon as her feet hit the ground, I sweep her into my arms, cradling her against my chest as I carry her to the front door.

She laughs, the sound bright and free, her head falling back to expose the delicate line of her throat.

"I like it when you laugh," I tell her, unable to resist pressing my lips to the pulse point at her neck. "I want to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life."

Her arms tighten around my neck as I fumble with the key, my coordination compromised by the feel of her body against mine and the intoxicating scent of her desire.

"Careful," she teases, her breath warm against my neck as she nips at my earlobe. "You might give a girl the wrong idea about how coordinated you are."

I growl, low and warning, as I finally get the door open. "I assure you, sweetheart, coordination won't be an issue once we're inside. I've imagined this moment too many times to mess it up now."

Her heartbeat quickens, and I smile, satisfied with the effect my words have on her. The door swings open, and I carry her over the threshold, kicking it shut behind us. Without breaking stride, I head straight for the bedroom, my need for her growing with each step.

The moment we cross the bedroom threshold, something snaps between us.

The patience we've both maintained for weeks dissolves in an instant.

I press her against the wall, my hands braced on either side of her head, my body flush against hers.

Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I've wanted to touch you since the day you walked into my life," I murmur, my voice rough with need.

"Every night, I've lain awake thinking about what you'd feel like beneath me, around me, coming apart for me.

" I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. "But I waited—because you're worth every second of torture. "

Grace doesn't hesitate. She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me to her, our mouths crashing together in a kiss that's all teeth and tongue and pent-up longing. It's messy and impatient, our hands roaming, tugging at clothes, gasps and growls echoing in the quiet cabin.

I lift her effortlessly, and her legs wrap around my waist, the heat of her core pressing against my hardness, separated only by the fabric of our clothes.

I groan into her mouth, my control slipping as I carry her to the bed without breaking the kiss.

I set her down gently, hovering over her, struggling to maintain some semblance of restraint.

"You're so beautiful," I whisper, tracing the curve of her jaw with my thumb. "I want to see all of you."

Grace reaches for the hem of my shirt, tugging it upward. "Too many clothes," she murmurs against my lips. "I need to feel your skin against mine."

I pull back just long enough to strip off my shirt, revealing the chest she's seen before but never been free to touch. Her hands immediately explore the planes of my torso, fingers tracing old scars and the contours of muscle. When she reaches the waistband of my jeans, her touch grows hesitant.

"Don't stop now," I encourage, my voice a low rumble as I capture her wrist and guide her hand lower, letting her feel how hard I am for her. "Feel what you do to me."

She smiles, that mix of shyness and determination that I find so endearing, and pulls her own shirt over her head.

The sight of her—skin flushed with desire, hair tousled, clad in a simple black bra—nearly undoes me.

I reach behind her to unclasp her bra, my movements deliberate, giving her time to stop me if she wants.

But she arches into my touch, helping me remove the garment.

"Perfect," I breathe, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, the pink nipples tightening under my gaze. "Even better than I imagined."

I lower my head, taking one nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive peak.

Grace gasps, her back arching off the bed, her hands flying to my hair to hold me in place.

I lavish attention on one breast, then the other, alternating between gentle suction and the scrape of teeth until she's writhing beneath me.

Our clothes come off slowly at first—each piece peeled away with reverence—but it quickly tips into urgency.

I can't get enough of her skin, warm and soft beneath my hands.

My mouth finds every inch of her, trailing from her collarbone to her breasts, down her stomach to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, mapping her body like I'm memorizing every curve, every response.

When I reach the waistband of her jeans, I look up at her, seeking permission. Her eyes are heavy-lidded with desire, her lips parted and swollen from my kisses.

"Please," she whispers, lifting her hips in invitation.

I unbutton her jeans and slide them down her legs, taking her panties with them, leaving her completely bare to my gaze. For a moment, I just look at her, drinking in the sight of her naked body laid out before me like a feast.

"You're staring," she says, a hint of self-consciousness in her voice.

I shake my head, my eyes never leaving her. "I'm appreciating. There's a difference." I run my hands up her legs, from ankle to thigh, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Her scent fills my senses, driving my wolf wild with need. I can smell her arousal, sweet and heady, as I graze my teeth along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She gasps and arches beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair.

"Eli, please," she breathes, her voice breaking on my name.

"Please what?" I ask, my breath hot against her center. "Tell me what you want, Grace. I need to hear you say it."

Her cheeks flush, but her eyes meet mine with determination. "I want your mouth on me," she says, the words rushing out. "I want to feel you inside me. I want everything."

A growl of approval rumbles through my chest. "Good girl," I murmur, before lowering my head and tasting her for the first time.

She cries out, her hips bucking against my mouth as I lick a long, slow stripe through her folds.

She's wet and ready, her taste intoxicating on my tongue.

I devour her with single-minded focus, alternating between broad strokes and precise flicks against the bundle of nerves that makes her gasp my name.

When I slide one finger inside her, then two, she moans, her inner walls clenching around the intrusion. I curl my fingers, finding the spot that makes her back bow off the bed, while my mouth continues its relentless assault on her clit.

"Oh god, Eli," she pants, her thighs trembling on either side of my head. "I'm going to—"

"That's it," I encourage, my voice rough with desire. "Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel it."

Her release hits her like a tidal wave, her body tensing and then shuddering as she cries out my name. I work her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks ripple through her, until she tugs weakly at my hair.

"Too much," she gasps, her body still quivering.

I press a final kiss to her inner thigh before moving up her body, shedding my jeans and boxers as I go. When I settle between her thighs, she looks up at me with wonder, her hands reaching to trace the contours of my face.

"You're so beautiful," she whispers, echoing my earlier words. Her hand drifts down, wrapping around my length, and it's my turn to gasp. "And so hard for me."

"Only for you," I assure her, my voice strained as her hand explores, learning what makes me groan and what makes my hips buck. "Grace, if you keep that up, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast."

She smiles, a wicked gleam in her eye as she strokes me from base to tip. "We have all night," she reminds me. "And I plan to take full advantage of that."

I capture her wrist, bringing her hand to my lips to press a kiss to her palm. "Later," I promise. "Right now, I need to be inside you."

I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock sliding through her wetness. We both groan at the sensation, our eyes locked together.

"Look at me," I murmur, and her eyes flutter open, locking with mine. "I need you to know—this means something to me. You mean everything to me."

Grace cups my face in her hands, her expression softening. "I know," she whispers. "You mean everything to me too." Her eyes well with emotion, and she adds, "You're my home, Eli. The only one I've ever had."

Those words—so simple, yet so profound coming from a woman who's never had a home—break something open inside me. I enter her slowly, watching her face as I fill her inch by inch. The sensation is overwhelming—tight, hot, perfect. Her eyes widen, her lips parting on a silent gasp as I push deeper.

"Okay?" I ask, holding myself still with effort.

She nods, her hands sliding down to grip my shoulders, nails digging into my skin. "More than okay," she breathes. "You feel... god, Eli, you feel incredible."

I begin to move, setting a rhythm that's slow and deliberate at first, savoring the feeling of her body accepting mine.

But it doesn't stay gentle for long. Our need for each other is too great, too urgent.

Soon, I'm driving into her with abandon, her legs locked around my waist, her nails raking down my back.

"You're mine," I growl against her neck, my wolf surging to the surface. "Say it, Grace. Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," she gasps, meeting my thrusts with equal fervor. "Only yours, Eli. Always."

The words send a surge of possessive pleasure through me. I slip a hand between us, finding the spot where she's most sensitive, circling it with my thumb as I continue to thrust into her.

"That's it," I encourage, feeling her tightening around me. "Come for me again, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on my cock."

Grace's back arches off the bed as she comes, a cry tearing from her throat.

Her inner walls clamp down on me, pulsing rhythmically, and the sight of her—completely uninhibited, completely mine—pushes me to the brink.

I hold back, wanting to savor this moment, wanting to watch her fall apart in my arms.

She pulls me down, her lips brushing my ear as she whispers, "Let go, Eli. I want to feel you come inside me."

Those words shatter my control. I bury myself deep inside her, my release hitting me with stunning force.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me as I empty myself into her, her name a broken mantra on my lips.

My wolf howls in triumph, satisfied in a way I've never known before.

She's marked with my scent, claimed in the most primal way.

Afterward, we lie tangled together, our bodies slick with sweat, our breathing gradually slowing. I brush a kiss to her temple, inhaling the scent of her—now mingled with mine in a way that makes my wolf rumble with contentment.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest.

"That I've never been happier," I answer honestly, my hand spanning her waist possessively. "That I want to wake up like this every day for the rest of my life."

She props herself up on one elbow, studying my face. "Even though I'm not a shifter? Even though I don't understand half of what it means to be your mate?"

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my touch gentle despite the fierce protectiveness I feel. "You understand more than you think. And the rest? We'll figure it out together."

Grace smiles, but there's a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes. "What if I'm not good at it? At staying. At building a life."

"Then we'll practice," I tell her, pulling her closer until her head rests on my chest, right above my heart.

"You and me and Willow. Every day. And some days will be harder than others.

But we'll keep trying, because that's what it means to have a home.

It's not about the place—it's about the choice to stay, to work through the hard parts. "

She's quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing the line of my collarbone. "I never thought I'd want this. A house. A future. Someone to trust. Someone to share it with."

"And now?"

"Now I can't imagine wanting anything else." She tilts her face up to mine, her eyes shining with emotion. "I love you, Eli. I think I have for a while now. I was just too scared to admit it."

My heart swells at her words, a fierce joy spreading through me. "I love you too, Grace. You and Willow. More than I thought possible." I cup her face in my hands, my gaze intense. "You're mine now. My mate, my heart, my home. And I'm yours, completely."

We kiss again, slow and deep, the urgency replaced by something more profound. When we break apart, she settles back against me, her body relaxed and trusting.

"You and Willow don’t have to run anymore," I murmur against her hair. "You're home."

Grace doesn't reply with words—just a contented sigh as she presses her body closer, her fingers laced with mine. But I don't need words. The way she fits against me, the steady beat of her heart, the peaceful expression on her face—they tell me everything I need to know.