Page 40 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

The way he’d always criticize me, telling me how much I ate, commenting on my weight, making me feel self-conscious about something that should’ve been so simple.

Suddenly, my throat tightens, my stomach churning.

I duck my head, embarrassed, trying to shove the memories away. They don’t belong here.

Not inside my brain.

Not now. Not ever.

I close my eyes for a brief moment and will the past to release its stranglehold on me. Usually, I can do that with no problem, and no one is the wiser.

But Horace?

He notices immediately.

His chair scrapes against the floor as he moves closer, the heat of his body suddenly there, anchoring me.

His fingers are on my chin, tilting my face toward him, forcing my eyes to meet his.

“I can feel your thoughts, Carina,” he murmurs, voice serious, searching. “And they’re heavy.”

His brows furrow, his expression pained.

“I know it’s my fault, and I don’t know what I said wrong, but if you tell me,” he says, his voice deep and rumbly.

His thumb brushes my jaw in the softest touch imaginable before he adds, “I’ll fix it.”

I swallow, shaking my head. “No. It’s nothing.”

“Don’t do that.” His voice is gentle but firm.

“Talk to me, Sweetheart.”

And for some reason, I want to.

So I do.

I clear my throat and shrug, trying to sound casual.

“It’s just, well, my ex used to comment on how much I ate. All the time.” I exhale sharply, looking away. “He had a lot to say about my weight.”

Silence.

Thick, heavy silence.

Then a deep, guttural, animalistic growl vibrates from Horace’s chest.

I should be startled.

I should be concerned.

But instead?

My entire body reacts in avery differentway.

I know if I went to the ladies’ room right now, yeah, my panties would be totally soaked.

Horace’s jaw tightens, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark and dangerous.

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