Everything went still. Even the air seemed to cease circulating at Charlotte’s words. Brenin didn’t move. Didn’t breathe for a long moment. Let’s. A single word, but one with so many possible complications. He wanted to. More than anything in his life, he wanted to be with this female. And not simply to take her and revel in the carnal act, but because he wanted to get close to her. To know her on a deeper level. One only found by mating and joining with another person. He took her wrist and pulled her to him. Her body against his felt so damn right.
He’d fucked before. Bear shifter females, along with human women. Females he’d liked and got on with, dated in some cases, but the sex always seemed…mechanical. None of it went beyond the physical act. It had been scratching an itch and nothing more. He did this, though, and he’d do much more than scratch any itch. They did this and he would not want to let her go. The idea terrified him.
When she’d collapsed into a heap of sobs in the car, it tore his heart out. He’d destroy the whole world to stop her crying if that’s what it took. But he didn’t know her. They didn’t seem to get on too well. If the fairy folk had been involved in this, they had not picked well. Yes, on a physical level, he burned for her, but she annoyed him to no end at times. What with her determination to leave despite the risks and her way of pushing back at him. Although, maybe he liked that too, a little.
Fucked. He was so utterly fucked. Damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t.
Because he knew one thing with certainty, if she walked away and they took this no further, he’d always yearn for her. He’d scented her. Held her. Tasted her, if only briefly. Matings weren’t like human courtships. The bond happened much more quickly. It came based on taste, scent, touch, and other, harder to define things. His bear wanted her already and so did Bren’s instinctive side. His brain still fought against it and tried to take control.
She’d likely be feeling the same things. Their scents matched, their hearts even beat at the same speed when they stood close. These things cemented mated pairs together super quick and carried them through a lifetime of difficulties. Mates argued like any couple, but they always came back together in the end. They had no choice. Their biology primed them to want only one another, for as long as they both lived. Of course, it meant any bear shifter who lost his or her mate ended up a sad and broken creature. And he came right back around to why he shouldn’t do this.
Shouldn’t, be damned. Her hand in his fit to perfection. Small encased in large. Soft in rough. He acted mostly on instinct. Not thinking, but instead guided by his body, he climbed the stairs with her in tow. Her breathing rate increased, but she didn’t resist. She let him guide her, and his bear rejoiced at the small victory.
When he opened the door to his room, she gave a gasp of delight. She walked in and straight up to his photos, which adorned the walls.
“Where did you buy these? They’re the most beautiful photographs. Wow. This person has talent.”
He blushed. Actually fucking heated in his neck and face, which must be a first. “I took them,” he said.
“You?” She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “You’ve got an incredible eye. But more, you’ve put real emotion into these pictures. Each one tells a story. Says something unique about the landscape. They’re kind of sad.”
He didn’t want to go into the feelings behind his mournful black and white shots of the local landscape so he asked a question. “You an art fan?”
She smiled then—a proper, wide smile, and it hit him like a tornado, taking him up before settling him back down in a different reality. One where a simple smile from a pretty female cracked his heart wide open.
“I took a photography course myself, a long while ago now. I’ve always loved it, but a few years ago…some bad things happened and I became agoraphobic to a degree, I suppose. My mum bought me this camera and it helped. I became more focused on things to take pictures of than my own stupid fears. I used to take it wherever I went. On nights out with friends, I’d be the sober one in the corner, taking snaps of people having fun. I don’t have talent like you, though.”
“I’d like to see your pictures sometime.” He realized immediately what he’d said. Saw the moment it registered with her, as her eyes widened and her lips parted at the suggestion they might have some sort of future.
She walked to the window and let her fingers trail over the end of his bed frame. Just the sight of her touching his bed made him hard.
“What made you agoraphobic?” He hated to think of her becoming locked in on herself, scared of the world.
“It wasn’t full-on or anything. More like bad social anxiety, I suppose. A guy I was seeing, he did something cruel. I let it get to me.”
“Did he hit you?” Violence swept through him, heating his blood, turning his muscles molten. He’d kill anyone who hurt her.
“No. Nothing like that.”
She turned away from him and looked out of the window, so he walked up to her and put his arms around her from behind. He inhaled her now familiar scent and marveled how, in mere hours, she’d become so recognizable to him.
“Tell me what happened.” His words came out low, gentle. He wanted to hear her story, but he didn’t want to push.
A deep inhale of breath made her soft belly push against his arms. He loved the feel of her. Her warmth, her softness, the temptation of her curves. He wanted to lose himself in her. Bury himself deep inside and hold her tight to his body.
“I dated this guy in college. He was way out of my league.” She choked out a sad-sounding little laugh. “All the girls liked him, but he took a shine to me. At first, I do think he liked me, but when the teasing started about his big girlfriend, well, I think he took the coward’s way out. He decided to join with the bullies and not stick up for me.”
She drew in another breath, and a soft tremor ran through her body. This story was difficult for her to tell. About to say she needn’t go on, he paused when she straightened her spine and continued. “We were out at this night club. He and I, no friends for once, and we’d been having a few drinks. The place played lots of cheesy seventies and eighties pop. All the stuff I love. So I danced away, for once free as a bird. ‘I Will Survive’ came on and I danced and sang, feeling beautiful. The dick filmed me on his phone and sent it around to all his friends with the title ‘Fat Girl Limping.’ Anyway, it kind of broke my heart. Not because I loved him or anything, but because, for once, I’d felt normal. More, I’d felt beautiful, on top of the world. I was out, dancing with a gorgeous guy by my side, but it was an illusion and...”
She stopped midsentence, and he wondered why. Turning in his arms, she met his gaze. “Erm. You’re growling.”
Bren realized with horror that with each exhalation, a low growl rumbled its way out of his chest. Jesus. He had it bad. One momentary image of her with some handsome, but cruel dude and his inner bear popped out of hiding.
“I’m sorry. I suppose my bear doesn’t like the thought of you with another male. Especially not one who hurt you.”
She smiled, a cute dimple popping in her cheek. “Oddly enough, now I know it’s not aimed at me, I like it. Makes a girl feel wanted, you know?” She laughed.
“Trust me, you’re wanted. I’ve acted like a dick at times. But you need to know, it’s not you. It’s me. Cheesy as fuck maybe, but true. You’re gorgeous. Everything I’ve ever imagined. But you’re also human and it presents a problem for me, one to do with family stuff and my own baggage.”
She sighed. “I know I’m not beautiful, Bren. You don’t have to pretend I am. I’m not hideous. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not so messed up as to think myself ugly. But no one would call me beautiful.”
“You so fucking are.” He tipped her face up with his hand until her eyes lifted to his. “You’re absolutely stunning, sweetheart. All curves and hair and miles of pale, soft skin. I want to drown in you.”
She sighed again, but this one held a wistful tone of longing, not the sad depression of the earlier exhalation. “I hardly know you, and this is probably messed up, but I’d like to lose myself in you, too. Even if only for a little while.”
“Come here.” He walked to the bed and pulled her with him, sitting down on the mattress and pulling her onto his lap.
They ought not to let this go too far, but no reason they couldn’t make out. He brushed her lips with his own and then kissed her.
She whimpered into his mouth, and the sound, the desperate little mewl, undid him. His bear roared with need and refused to listen to any more of Bren’s caution.
Taken over by his inner animal, Bren struggled to at least remain gentle as his hands roamed her body. They skimmed down her side to where her waist dipped in, then out over the flare of her hips. He palmed her full ass and groaned into their heated kiss.
A hesitant hand skimmed his chest, mapping the planes of muscle and sinew. “Let me see you.” She whispered the words against his neck.
Not needing to be asked twice, he lifted her to his side of the bed and stood. Blood pulsing in his veins, he stripped his T-shirt, to stand before her in only his sweats and socks.
“Oh my God.” She shook her head and giggled. “You’re amazing.”
In that moment, with her looking at him with big eyes, he believed it. His chest puffed up with pride, and he enjoyed her hungry gaze eating him up.
“Your turn now.” He made it sound playful, but Lord, he needed to see some skin.
She fidgeted and looked down at her knees. Shy suddenly, and heaven help him but it only turned him on more.
“Do you want me to do it?”
She nodded up at him, cheeks stained red.
He sat back beside her and with gentle fingers pulled up her soft sweater. She put her arms in the air, compliant and docile, but her heaving chest gave away her emotions.
Once he’d removed the wooly top, he looked at her in her strappy camisole. It sat low on her chest, showing the creamy tops of her breasts. Needing to touch, he let his fingers trail across the tip of her left shoulder and down her arm. Her skin goose bumped in his wake. He let his fingers roam across her décolletage, reining himself in, determined to be the gentleman she’d need this first time between them.
First time? There he went again with making this more than it ought to be.
She shifted, and the movement pushed her breasts up in her top. One finger lazily meandered down to where the shelf of her bra poked out of her camisole. He let the finger move softly over her and dip down to brush over her nipple, hard and wanton enough to poke through the flimsy satin of her bra and the cotton cami. When he touched the hard nub of flesh, she drew in a quick, harsh breath.
He needed to taste. Bren glanced at her face and saw nothing but encouragement, so he lowered his head and sucked on her hard flesh, worshiping it through soft material. He laved at her through the satin and cotton, and then sucked her back in, letting his teeth scrape her slightly.
“Oh my God.” Her head fell back.
“Bren will do.” He lifted his head and shot her a grin, rewarded by her delighted laugh.
He pushed the material up and over her mussed hair, until she wore only her bra. Her dark nipples showed clearly through the fabric and his mouth watered in response.
He cupped her full breasts in his hands and kneaded the flesh, loving their weight. As he squeezed them, he remembered his promise to be a gentleman and gentled his touch, turning it into more of a stroke than a rough handling.
“Don’t,” she breathed.
“Sorry.” His blood ran cold, and he stopped touching her immediately. She didn’t want this. He’d pushed too far. Human, she wouldn’t feel the same urgency he did.
He moved away, but she reached for him.
“No, I didn’t mean stop. I meant, don’t hold back. I want you. All you have to offer.”
His bear roared.