Bearclaw Valley i can't fight this time now

He'd first tilt her head side to side, checking to see if she'd been bleeding, but there had been no wounds upon her. With her ogling stare, panting breaths, he only waited for words to slip past her lips.
And when they did, Lord, were they oh, so, sweet. A molten heat that he couldn't kindle, a lurch from her that brought tiptoes to meet his height. Instinctively, he wouldn't deny her this— he couldn't— a man who knew what a woman wanted.
With his grasp he gripped her chin, the kiss warm, gentle, no matter how much his nature begged otherwise. She was fragile against him, a porcelain doll waiting to fall off the shelf at his forsaken grip.
But before it could get to where she melted against him, he pulled away, the residual grumble of his own displeasure of separating from her gyrating his throat. Fuck, he cussed beneath the air of his breath, resisting the temptation to pull her atop of him. You're young, Nephie, but that hadn't stopped him from wrapping a paw around her back.
I don't... shit. I don't wanna fuckin' hurt 'ya.