Page 17 of Grizzly's Grump
“Sensitive. Unshielded. You walk through that kind of power with your heart wide open; it can bend you sideways.”
She stares at me. “And you’re shielded?”
“No,” I say. “But I’ve lived here long enough to brace for it.”
Something flickers in her eyes. Respect, maybe. Or curiosity.
“You carried me,” she says quietly.
“I wasn’t about to let you collapse in the middle of a surge.”
“I’m not made of glass.”
“No,” I admit. “You’re not.”
Her breath stutters, caught between defiance and something far more vulnerable. She changes position slightly where she’s perched on the edge of the truck’s side ledge, bracing herself with one hand against the metal, as if unsure whether to lean in or pull away. Her lips part—maybe to speak, maybe to challenge—but no words come. Her gaze flicks to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
I’m already moving.
One step closes the gap between us. I plant my hands on either side of her thighs, caging her in—not rough, not forceful, just sure. Her breath ghosts across my cheek. Her scent wraps around me—sweet and sharp and warm—and my control fractures.
I dip my head and kiss her—full, fierce, claiming. Her lips part beneath mine with a soft gasp, and I take her mouth like I’ve been dying for it, like it’s the only thing that will quiet the maelstrom clawing at my insides. My fingers tighten against the ledge behind her, holding back the instinct to grab, to press, to devour.
She tastes like heat and wine and temptation, her lips soft but demanding, her body curving into mine with hungry, unspokenneed. The kiss deepens—my tongue sweeping into her mouth, coaxing a moan from her throat that shoots straight to my spine. Her hands fist in my shirt, dragging me closer until there’s nothing between us but fire and breath.
It’s not much, but it's everything.
She gasps into my mouth, her breath hot and trembling. Her fingers clutch the front of my shirt, fisting the fabric like she needs something to hold on to or she might come undone. I drag her closer, one hand splayed across her lower back, the other gripping her thigh as her legs wind around me. Her hips rise to meet me, slow and sinuous, the press of her body against mine sharp enough to steal my breath.
I groan against her lips, the sound ripped straight from the core of my being. The heat between us spikes—hotter than the fire, hotter than the ley surge—and I lose myself in the way she moves, the way she moans, the way her mouth opens beneath mine like a promise I’m already breaking.
This isn’t gentle. Far from it. It’s everything I’ve been holding back.
She whimpers when I nip at her bottom lip, and I drown in the sound. My hands roam—one curling around the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip. Her pulse beats fast beneath my touch.
“Calder,” she pants. “You’re burning up.”
I am, on the inside.
Every part of me tuned in to her.
I kiss her again, slower this time, sinking into the taste of her like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the earth. Her mouth opens beneath mine with soft, aching heat—lush and yielding, inviting me in. My tongue slides against hers, slow and searching, a rhythm that makes her sigh into my mouth like she’s melting from the inside out.
She tastes like ripe berries and wine and something dark I shouldn’t want but do anyway—warm, reckless, addictive. My fingers tighten at her hip as her nails scrape along my neck, dragging a low growl from deep in my chest. Everything in me pulls toward her—hungry, restless, undone—and I let it. For this moment, I let it.
My hand slides up her thigh.
And then I freeze like someone poured ice water down my spine.
She pulls back, breath ragged. “What—what is it?”
I step back, hard and fast, like distance might undo what I’ve just done.
Her legs drop. Her expression changes.
I rake a hand through my hair and take another step back. “This was a mistake.”
Her lips part. “Wow. That’s... okay. Honest.”
