Her lips tilted teasingly. "You have a few aspects that are a little overwhelming," she admitted. "But it's not totally your fault. Sometimes, I panic a little."
A little? Her diaphragm was relaxed now, and her breathing, though a little quick, was coming easier.
"Has it happened often since you were a child?" He questioned, easing from her, shuddering at the snug grip of her pu**y as he slid out.
"Oh." She breathed out hard at his movement. "That still feels good." Her hands slid over his shoulders and stroked down his chest, as he moved to lay beside her. She was a
gentle weight against his chest now, one slender leg tucked between his, as she pushed his hair back from his face once again.
"It doesn't happen a lot," she finally answered him. "It used to happen all the time when I was little. New situations or if I got scared or excited. My dad was in the army. Every time we heard of a new battle near his area, or if he was late coming home on leave, it would happen." Stress perhaps . Matthias thought as he tucked her closer to him.
"It hasn't happened since I hit my twenties. But then again, I've never been so excited in my life," she laughed, pulling her head back to stare up at him.
"Or perhaps so frightened?" he asked.
She shrugged, a wry smile on her face. "But it didn't happen when I saw you in Albrecht's suite. Or when you kidnapped me."
"Because you trusted me." He cupped her face in his hand, feeling his chest tighten at the knowledge of how much she had trusted him without even knowing it. "You knew I wouldn't kill without reason, Grace. Just, I think, as you knew that Albrecht was all he was accused of being." She didn't turn away from him now, nor did she avoid his look. "I knew," she finally whispered. "Inside. But you still scared the life out of me."
"Not enough to steal your breath," he reminded her.
A soft smile from remembered pleasure shaped her well-kissed lips, this time as she shifted against him, her hand stroking down his arm. "No, it's your touch that steals my breath, Matthias. Maybe, if we practice a whole lot, I'll learn how to control it."
"Hmmm, perhaps that's the answer." He leaned down, allowing his lips to rub against hers, to feel the passion and desire in her acceptance of him.
He hadn't expected this. The price of keeping her wasn't so very bad, though. No more assassinations. He could live with that. Jonas could use him at the Bureau of Breed Affairs. He had requested his help there on a full-time basis many times, and Matthias had refused. Maybe he could talk to the director about that now, see what was needed.
There were very few Wolf Breeds in the bureau. The pack leader, Wolf Gunnar, was now on the Breed Ruling Cabinet and met often with the human and feline sections of the Breed community. The separate Breed races were slowly coming together, adapting and learning how to ensure their place in the world. Matthias could help with that. Grace could help with that. He had seen her at the hotel managing the staff. She was like a little general directing the running of the establishment.
"I think I'm hungry," she finally sighed, as his head lifted. "Starving, actually." Matthias touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Then I better get you fed," he said. "Because the heat will build again, Grace. And soon."
Grace stared back at him in surprise, as he moved from the bed, then helped her rise as well. The surprise quickly changed to admiration. He was hard from head to toe. His body was lean, his muscles
flexed with power without being ungainly.
She could understand now why her childhood panic had returned. Her difficulty breathing was due to stress, to emotional overloads, as the doctors had coined it. That was Grace, too damned emotional sometimes. She could handle watching her lover kill a suspected monster, but she couldn't handle the knowledge that he was imperative to her happiness.
Just as her father had been. Just as the knowledge of the danger he had faced had brought on the emotional attacks.
She had thought she was over them. Her father had just retired from the army a few years before, but she hadn't had an attack in more than six years. Until Matthias.
Because she loved him.
She shook her head as she followed him to the shower. They washed quickly, hunger of a different sort driving them now.
Showering with Matthias was a unique experience, though. He loved the water, and he hogged it. She had to push him back several times to get her share, and a wrestling match ensued for possession of the stream of water. She lost, of course, but he did hold her close enough to make certain she was both washed and rinsed from head to toe.
Then he made certain she was dry as well. By time he finished, Grace was ready to head back to the bed rather than to the kitchen.
"Food first. I need my energy." He inhaled slowly, his lashes lowering, as sensuality filled his expression.
"Then we'll go to bed. Perhaps we'll even sleep sometime tonight." He backed her against the bathroom wall, the heavy length of his c**k burning against her lower stomach, as her hard ni**les raked his chest.
Grace ran her palms over his biceps, then his shoulders, as his head lowered, and he licked the small spot where he had bitten her earlier. Sensation sang through the small wound, a clenching pleasure so deep and hot she rose to her tiptoes to prolong it.
He was definitely a bad boy. Tattooed, pierced, and arrogant as hell. She had seen that arrogance more than once over the past weeks. But he was gentle with her. He touched her like a dream, and he kissed her like fire.
"Food," he whispered regretfully against her lips, drawing back and staring down at her somberly. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine." She was so damned horny now she thought she might melt in a puddle at his feet. They dressed in the bedroom and headed through the cabin to the kitchen. The refrigerator was filled with cold cuts, vegetables, and cold water that the caretaker had stocked before her arrival. The freezer held a variety of packaged steaks and other frozen goodies. She grabbed the meat from the refrigerator and some lettuce and tomatoes. Thick, fresh bread was
wrapped and stored in the cabinet. She removed it and set it on the counter. Matthias was unusually quiet as he moved through the kitchen, the living room, then back to the kitchen. His expression was somber, the way he watched her finally grating on her nerves.
"Is there a problem?" She laid the bread knife down and watched him closely. "If you're still considering killing me, I should point out that has to be against the rules, or something." His lips quirked as he shook his head. "That would be worse than suicide."