Page 15 of A Beary Merry Christmas

The room began to spin as I stumbled forward, seeking leverage, something to help hold me up, but everything blurred before me. I was certain I would collapse at any second.

But then I felt him. He hoisted me into his arms effortlessly. He cradled me to him.

Ironically, the very person I was afraid of moments ago was the very person making me feel safe and protected now. He was the one who had my heartbeat regulating and my lungs operating properly. One part of him stirred my soul; the other soothed it; the perfect simulation of man and beast.

A thousand questions flew through my mind, and yet, I found myself content to simply let him hold me. For now. Until I was no longer shaking. Until I was confident enough to face him, to ask him.

How could I be equally frightened and comforted by him? How could I be equally horrified and mesmerized by him? How could he be man and bear? How on Earth did a relationship with someone like him work?

Burying my face in his chest, I inhaled him. He smelled of sandalwood, musk and pine with a hint of cinnamon. Knowing both sides of him, his scents suited him perfectly, a combo of nature and warmth.

He held me until I told him to. He remained steady, his muscles never sputtering beneath the weight of me, until I asked him to set me down. His heartbeat in my ear as he clung to me reassured me of one important thing: he had feelings. This was a big secret, one that probably unnerved him as much as it did me at some point.

Running his fingers gently along my cheek, he drew my gaze to him. His brows furrowed ever so slightly in concern. “Let me put some shorts on and then we can talk about whatever you want.” His voice was the softest it’d ever been, albeit still a bit hoarse from being sick.

Silently, I shook my head in agreement. As he turned towards the dresser, I saw the tattoo covering seventy percent of his back. It was the same bear that was on his business, the same bear he also was, or had inside him. I wasn’t certain of the correct terminology. The artist did a good job. It was striking, commanding one’s attention, attention to the wings of muscle across his broad back, down to his narrow waist and then further to his buns of steel. He was exquisitely built.

And he was a bear. Dear God.

Slipping into the bathroom, I heard him blow his nose and wash his hands before returning to me, dressed in a pair of athletic shorts. Truly looking at his build for the first time, studying his well defined abs, wide chest, puffed pectorals and burly biceps, I couldn’t help but compare him to a bear, to a ferocious beast…that was the most comfortable creature to sleep on, that didn’t harm me, despite being beside me for who knew how long, that, in the wild, sought food, not battles with humans.

Oh, God. Was I actually rationalizing this? Was I actually accepting this?

Staring at him, seeing the fear in his depths, my heart cracked at the edges. I knew nothing about him in this new context, but somehow, I knew he didn’t choose to be this way. Who would? He could never be his real self with anyone who wasn’t like him, or that he didn’t trust completely without hesitation or doubt.

Looking at it like that, my heart only further splintered. It single-handedly proved his feelings for me were real, in every way. He genuinely cared. He truly wanted me. He…he just gave me what no other man had: complete confidence in him.

Closing the distance between us, I cupped his face, stretched up on my tiptoes and captured his lips, morning breath, unkempt hair and all.

His arms came around me like a vise, hauling me against his hardness. He took control of the caress, turned my unexpected kiss into a flaming exchange complete with tongues and teeth. He had heat flickering in my womb, desire multiplying within me. He had-

An erection the size of Texas.

Good, God. My pussy pulsated, anticipation welling within me. Arching slightly, I pressed deeper into him, rocked my hips against him, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

Abruptly, he broke away from my lips, gasping for air. “Fuck, babe.” The way he looked at me could set every tree in the forest around us ablaze. He tightened his grip on me, grunting in frustration.

Releasing me, he took a few steps, putting distance between us. Rolling his shoulders, grabbing the back of his neck with his and squeezing it, he peered at me, passion still flickering in his depths. He groaned, closing his eyes and dropping his head. He took a deep breath before he opened his eyes and looked directly at me. “It’s not the most romantic thing to say, but I want to fuck the shit out of you so damned bad.”

My heart beat wildly in my chest. Longing pumped through my veins, coiling in my core. My breasts tingled. The way he bit his bottom lip as he took my curves in had me feeling like the sexiest woman alive at the moment. I never ceased to feel special, to feel wanted, sought after, appreciated, with him. He made me feel like I was worth any cost.

Including his health and my own.

Crap. I really didn’t think a few minutes ago. I acted on impulse; I reacted to my emotions. And now I was probably going to get sick. The funny part? I didn’t even care. He was worth it. That kiss was worth it.

But sex required energy, stamina, and a certain degree of healthiness that he didn’t have today, human or bear.

“When you’re better.” I had to ignore my body’s cry of disappointment. I wanted what he had, every hard inch of it. A shudder worked through me, had me struggling to be the responsible one for once.

Cracking his neck, he shook his head in understanding. Stalking to his dresser, he plucked out a white Beast Mode tee. “I need some more layers between us if-” He grunted. “Fuck, babe.” He jerked the shirt on before reaching into his drawer and grabbing another one. Turning, he set it on the sturdy bed. “Put this on and I’ll clean your jacket.”

“Clean it?” I frowned, peering down, inspecting it. Sure enough, a thin layer of brown and white hair dusted the front of it.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry, beautiful. My bear is…messy.” He gave me a sheepish grin.

“Does he have a name?” I carefully removed the hoodie, grateful I always wore a tank beneath it, and passed it to him.

His brows shot up. “Damn, you’re sexy.” He shook himself, taking the outerwear and refocusing. “A name?” He frowned. “I never thought to give him one.”

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