Page 36 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

Because it’s her.

It’s Carina.

My Carina.

But—she doesn’t look like her.

Not the way I’m used to seeing her.

Gone are the baggy clothes, the oversized sweaters that swallowed her shape, the casual, comfortable layers she always wears.

And her hair?

Not pulled back in that practical ponytail, the one that always made her look effortlessly cute and annoyingly off-limits.

Oh no.

Instead, she’s in a form-fitting black dress.

And it’slethal.

My cock hardens to steel as I take her in.

It hugs her body in a way that should be illegal, emphasizing the full curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, and—holy hell—her marvelous tits.

I’m not the only one who notices, either.

The waiter catches a look and lingers for half a second too long.

Big mistake, buddy.

A snarl rumbles up from my chest before I can stop it, deep and guttural, vibrating through my entire body.

Back off.

The waiter flinches.

Good.

But I barely even register him anymore because my entire focus is on her.

Her hair is loose, tumbling down her back and shoulders in big, glossy brown curls that look so soft I’m fighting the urge to reach out and touch them.

She looks so—sigh.

Amazing.

Beautiful.

All those things.

She looks like mine.

My entire body coils tight, ready to move, ready to close the space between us, ready to pull her into me like some crazed territorial beast.

And then I realize she’s still standing.

Because I haven’t moved.

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