My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"Let's not have you catch cold," Graeme said quietly, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to the bedroom. His warmth surrounded her once again, and she doubted she could ever catch cold being this close to him.

After setting her down on the bed, Graeme turned toward his closet to retrieve some clothes, and a sudden panic quickened in her chest. He was turning away—this other part of her. He was leaving. August caught his hand, pulling him back.

"I—I'm cold now," she said quickly. Without fully understanding why, she needed him to remain close. The river of him that was running through her now, spreading more of him through every part of her, needed him there to steady it. To reassure her—else she might be swept along with it. "I'm cold without you. Stay with me. Please."

Graeme turned back with soft eyes and kneeled in front of her—his beautiful mate who appeared vulnerable to him in a new way. There was uncertainty in her eyes, and he wanted to ease it.

"I'm right here, love. I'm not leaving," he whispered. "I'm never leaving you."

August nodded and caressed his face. "Okay." The word came out shakily, and she didn't fully understand why—just that she needed that reassurance.

Graeme dipped his head into her chest, allowing her to caress his hair and run her hands along his back. Was there a more precious feeling than this? Than the way their bodies sang to each other when they were close? Than the trilling in his bones when their eyes met? He straightened and slowly pulled the towel from her shoulders before gently working it through her hair that was still dripping.

While Graeme worked the towel through her hair, his arms around either side of her, August watched the movement of the perfectly sculpted muscles in his chest—so close to her. She put a hand gently against him and saw how he tensed under her and held his breath for a moment. Her eyes wandered upward to the line of his neck and his sharp jaw. The dark, bristly hair of his beard that was so gruff and alluring. His dark, intense eyes were on the hair he was drying by working the towel through sections from the crown to the ends before he met her gaze again, and it stole her breath.

"Lift your arms," he said quietly—so gentle and deep. When she obeyed, she felt his hands gliding up over her skin as he worked the wet shirt up before lifting it over her head and discarding it on the floor. His hands moved behind her, bringing his face next to hers as he slipped his fingers under the waistband at her lower back. "And your pants," his voice was against her ear. She lifted her hips to allow him to pull them down over her legs, and a shiver ran through her that ignited a cascade of nervous trembles.

After slipping the last pant leg off, he worked the towel reverently over her shoulders and down her arms, creating the friction that dried her skin and made her trembles gradually cease. Her eyes followed him while he worked with care, and the fire in her began to burn larger and brighter as he continued to stoke it.

Once he had given the same diligent attention to her legs, he lowered his head to the foot in his hands, kissing it for goosebumps to quickly spread over her body again. He slid his hand up her calf, messaging it gently. Her breath caught as she watched him caressing her, his head bowed, his mouth on her skin, warming that spot before moving on. How was this real? How was this amazing, beautiful man real? He slowly ran his hands up the length of her legs, following them up with his mouth until she felt him gently tug on her inner thigh with his teeth, coaxing a small noise out of her.

"You're so soft," he whispered, lifting his head to meet the golden fire in her eyes. "I want to nibble on all the tender parts of you." He straightened himself between her legs, pulling her closer to him as he reached behind her to undo the clasps at her back while he watched her carefully, gauging her expression.

Graeme's dark eyes were tender looking back at her as he slipped the delicate straps down her arms, one after the other, before turning his face to hers where he lingered, breathing in her scent. His fingers found the fresh mark on her neck and ran over it, causing a shiver to run down the length of her body once again. With that, he pulled her even closer before pausing there with her as they breathed against each other.

August smoothed the damp hair back from Graeme's face, bringing his warm gaze to rest on her. There was a question in his eyes, as if he was awaiting approval. She sensed the conflict he felt—of wanting to protect her, to take it slow, and she was in awe of it—in awe of him. Graeme with his tough exterior—so strong and dominant—and yet with this molten gentleness and sensitivity at his core.

August pulled him up to meet her and he followed, entranced by the calm liquid gold in her eyes. With their tongues at once entangled, vivid colors bloomed one after another in her mind, opening her further and further to him, and she grabbed him desperately for more—wanting to give him all of it, all that was blooming for him. Graeme's possessive growl slowly rose and puttered against her and with it the intensity fighting for dominance seemed to finally break free and consume him.

Finally she was his, and she was here under him—so soft and willing. He could feel her desire light up inside of him as if it were his own as she arched and he pulled her in. He wanted to taste and caress every inch—wanted to worship this silky pale skin she was wrapped in. He returned his mouth to her neck where she was vulnerable and so mouth-watering, and he claimed that part of her again with his lips—kissing and sucking and nibbling while he explored the length of her under him. The elegant curve of her neck. The beautiful peaks of her breasts that fit so perfectly in his hand. It was as if she was made to fit him exactly, and he wanted to feel every part that complemented him.

The alluring tip of one breast disappeared into the heat of his mouth as he kneaded the other—his tongue rolling against the silk of her, pulling her in before letting her go, and then he switched to do the same with her other breast—devouring it like he had been deprived, and she arched—urging the rest of herself forward to be consumed by him. As he pulled back, gently tugging her nipple along, she whimpered under him.

"Are you okay?" he asked. August nodded, eyebrows threaded together as she found his deep eyes looking back at her.

"Are you?" she asked breathlessly, bringing a hand to sweep the hair from his face that had fallen over his eyes. He smiled in response to her question, his dimple reappearing, and it was the most relaxed she had ever seen him.. He ran his thumb over her lips and kissed her there before trailing again down her neck and returning to where he had left off.