I've been wondering what would happen when there wasn't any more room between us. I wasn't expecting him to kiss me.

Hoping maybe, not expecting.

Bear's beard is softer than I'd expected, tickling my chin. His lips are warmer than I expected, and softer against mine. His kiss is deeper than I expected. Hot, hungry, and demanding in a way that I never would have expected.

His arms are wrapped around my body possessively, holding me firmly, and I don't have the presence of mind to think about how he's not on his knees and my feet are still on the floor. All I know is that this is the kiss I've been waiting for all my life.

My hands slide up Bear's chest, finding a wall of hard muscle beneath his layers of t-shirt and flannel where I'd expected him to be softer, more yielding.

Heat erupts in my core, spilling out of where ever it originates from and seeping into all the parts of me that have imagined this moment a thousand times already.

My imagination is nowhere near as good as the real thing.

"Dammit woman," I feel his deep voice growling against my throat as his lips trail from my mouth, "why didn't you tell me you were ready for my cock?"

This isn't the Barrett I've become used to. The sweet-mannered man with the careful movements and the soft spoken words. This man is untamed-- wild like the land he lives in and completely deserving of a name like Bear.

I let my head fall back to give him better access to the tender space at the base of my throat. I'm completely off-balance like this, relying on Bear to keep me from falling to the ground and completely trusting that he will.

A whimper escapes me instead of an answer to his question. I have no words at this moment, only need.

My fingers lace through his hair at the back of his head. It's long enough to fist in my hands as I hold on to him, dependent on him for everything at this moment, even the air that I'm breathing. Then my feet are off the ground and Bear is rushing us down the hallway and through the door to his bedroom.

I may not have slept in here yet, but I've seen his room. It's a grand master suite with beautiful pine walls and a king size bed with a massive wooden frame which Bear is currently laying me gently on.

He crawls onto the bed with me, straddling my knees as he unbuttons my blouse. I'm trapped under him like this and I have little option but to surrender to the feel of his hands as they brush the fabric aside and splay over my midriff.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he breathes out as his hands slide up my ribs and push my bra off my breasts, "I wanted you the moment I saw you."

Those are words I've wanted to hear, and just the sound of them on his lips makes me quiver.

"Why didn't you say something, Barrett?" I whisper as he bends to take one nipple in his mouth.

He grunts against my skin and I almost laugh, would if his touch wasn't searing my flesh with its heat and driving all thought from my mind.

His tongue rolls around my extended nipple, drawing it further into his mouth and lightly taking it between his teeth before moving to give the other the same attention. His hands kneading into my skin firmly yet gently.

By the time he breaks away and begins to move lower I've forgotten why I was leaving, why we were arguing. The last week has dissolved from my memory and the only thing left is how I felt the first night I met this man.

"I didn't want you to feel pressured," Barrett whispers against my stomach. His words muffled from the pressure of his lips on my skin, "I didn't want to be the guy that brought you all the way up here and then expected you to put out right away."

He reaches down and slides my skirt up my legs, his fingers dancing so lightly against my inner thighs that it's barely a promise of a touch. It makes me arch my back and cry out with a frustrated sound as I spread my thighs for him and silently beg him for more with my body language.

For a second he seems unsure whether to lift my skirt till its bunched around my waist, or to slide it over my hips and down my legs till it's just a worthless rag on the floor.

His hand is under the fabric, his fingers shamelessly slipping under the elastic waist of my panties and pulling them down as his mouth continues across my stomach, alternating the softest of kisses with the gentlest of nips till the waist band of the skirt prevents him from making further progress.

"I know we both went through the same process with Raven," he mumbles on, "Your nieces are real sweet.." He frees my body of my underwear and drops them out of sight and just when I think his hand is about to slide against my sex, he reaches to remove my skirt instead.

The anticipation is torment and I swear he gives me a grin that is darker than I thought this man was capable of when he sees the disappointment on my face.

"Just because you came up here expecting to meet the man you were gonna marry doesn't mean you were planning on hopping into bed with him right off the bat."

He pulls me free of any remaining garments and pushes me back into the comforter when I try to help.

A long, low whistle begins in his throat and turns to a groan, "Fuck, baby," his eyebrows are drawn together over the bridge of his nose and his need to have me is written plainly on his features, "I was waiting for you to let me know how far you wanted to take things and how fast."

His eyes rake over my naked body and his gaze is so heavy I feel it. It sends shivers over my skin and the sudden realization that I'm naked and he isn't seems unbearably criminal.

"But you didn't seem to notice when I tried to let you know what I wanted," I tell him, standing on my knees to work the buttons on his shirt.

We're face to face again and I see the regret in his deep brown eyes. His lips take mine gently in a kiss that says everything I know he wants to tell me.

I get it. Barrett is a humble man and words are not his strength. He needs me to communicate with him plainly and openly and he will always answer me simply and honestly. Like he is right now with this kiss.

"I'm not very good at recognizing a woman's signals," he tells me shyly when we break the kiss.

We still have so much left to learn about each other.

Right now I plan to start with his body. I pull the flannel shirt off of him and he lifts his arms so I can pull his t-shirt over his head.

It's my turn to whistle, except that I'm not very good at whistling, so instead the sound that leaves me is more like a moan.

Barrett's body isn't the cuddly teddy bear I had expected. His chest is made of neatly stacked muscles. Pecs that are wide and flat above the visible 6-pack engraved in his abdomen. A patch of hair covers his upper chest and trails down to below his belly button.

My fingers follow it. All the way to the button of his jeans that I'm in a very big hurry to get him out of.

In a blur of commotion we manage to get rid of the rest of the material that's been standing between us and before I have a chance to continue my exploration, I'm on my back again with Bear's head between my legs.

"Hey," I weakly protest, "I was busy."

"I'd rather keep you busy screaming my name." Is his answer, and it's a good one.