Page 44 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

It surprises even me—low, primal, possessive as hell.

Carina blinks, glancing up at me, but I don’t even try to hide it.

Because I’m mad.

Because the thought of her getting into a car with a stranger—some random Uber driver—doesn’t sit right.

Not even a little bit.

She shouldn’t do that.

She shouldn’t have to trust some faceless stranger when she could—should—trustme.

People can be creepy, the world is full of predators, and she’s too good, too sweet, too trusting—and I want her to be safe.

I want to be the one who makes sure she gets where she needs to go.

I want to be the one who’s there, who protects her, who keeps her close.

I clench my jaw as she reaches for her phone, muttering, “In fact, I should probably order one now?—”

No.

Absolutely not.

Before I even think about it, my hand drops over hers, palm covering her fingers, holding her in place.

Warm.

Soft.

Mine.

Her breath hitches, and I don’t miss the way her pulse jumps beneath her skin.

I swallow down the animal urge to press my mouth to it, to feel it against my tongue, to mark her as mine in the way that feels so natural, so inevitable.

Instead, I keep my voice low, smooth, laced with something dangerous and tempting all at once.

“I was hoping you’d come back to my place for dessert.”

Her lips part slightly, surprise flickering across her face—but not in a bad way.

More likeintrigued.

More likeinterested.

She blinks once, twice. Then she bites her lower lip.

And now—now I’m dripping all over my boxers like a horny fucking cub.

Shit.

I exhale sharply, trying—failing—to rein myself in as she watches me like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Then, with a slow, teasing smile, she murmurs, “Well, you just said the magic word, Mister.”

My chest tightens, my fingers flex, my Bear damn near loses his mind.

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