Page 21 of Bear

“It’s just fucking. Ain’t nothin’ complicated about it, darlin’.”

“Right. Just fucking.”

“Unless ... you feel more for me than you’re letting on.”

I arch my brow and give him a skeptical look.

“Relax. Just think of this as foreplay.”

I exhale and close my eyes. When I open them, he’s standing that much closer, holding his open palm out to me. I place my hand in his and he lifts me to my feet as if I weigh nothing.

“Aww, see? It didn’t take you kids long to kiss and make up,” Ruin says from the doorway. “Good news. Tyra just messaged to say she’s on her way home, so we can shoot this thing whenever you’re ready.”

“You wanna do it now?” My eyes widen.Jesus. What the hell am I getting myself into?

“Yeah, why not?” Ruin asks. “You need money in a hurry, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, we can get this shoot done, and uploaded right away. Those dollars will be rolling in within minutes.”

“Great.”

“Awesome, so feel free to freshen up in the guest bathroom. There are towels and clean robes—everything is in there that you might need. Tyra keeps it pretty well-stocked in feminine shit, perfume, shower gels, and shampoo. She’ll be home soon and can get started on your makeup.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call Crow and get him to come film for us. That way he can edit the shoot and upload it as quickly as possible, and you both can start rolling in the cash.”

I move past Tennessee, but he grabs my elbow and pulls me back to him. “Hey. I can find a way to get you the money if you don’t want to do this.”

“Why?” I give him a sardonic look. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“Not a single fuckin’ one. But, darlin’, when I get inside you, it’ll be because you want me there, not because you need a little extra cash.”

“What are you sayin’?”

“I’m sayin’ while you’re taking that nice, long, hot shower, you think of me between your legs and how that makes you feel in here.” He touches his finger to my breastbone. My nipples bead against my shirt, and I know he sees it because his pupils dilate. Tennessee runs his fingertips up the crease in my breasts. His touch is featherlight even though his fingertips are calloused. I have to suppress the urge to moan because the tension is so thick you could carve it. “Just be sure this is what you really want.”

“It’s not about what I want. It’s—”

“It should be. Don’t do this because you have no other choice. Do this because the idea of fucking a man you hate gets your little pussy so fucking wet that you couldn’t possibly refuse. Do this because you want me as much as I want you. Do this because it’s killing you not to touch me, just like it’s killing me.”

I meet his gaze, looking for some hint of insincerity, worried he’s just saying all of this shit to get to me, but there’s not even a hint of malice in his eyes—he’s totally sincere. Which means maybe I overlooked the way he feels about me.

His hot breath washes over me, and I tilt my face up to his. For a heartbeat, I think he might kiss me, but he takes a step back and clears his throat. “You have that shower, and you think about what I said.”

I nod, my eyes glued to his broad shoulders as he walks away, and then I practically collapse into a heap on the floor because the sexual tension is a heady, tangible weight pressing the air against me. I give it a few minutes more before I leave the room and hurry off to the guest bathroom where I lock the door behind me.

I turn on the faucet and undress. Steam fills the room, helping me to breathe a little easier. The rainfall showerhead eases a little of the tension from my shoulders, but I try not to get my hair wet ’cause you have to conserve your washes when you have pastel hair and I can’t be washing in hot water like any other woman. Plus, my hair is naturally pretty curly so wetting it right now might result in me looking like I stuck my finger in the electric socket.

Oh my god. Am I really going to go through with this? I squirt a little shower gel into my hands and rub my body down with it. I showered this morning, but working in the garage all day means there is dirt in places I don’t want on camera.Fuck. On camera. Me and Tennessee.Immortalized in film forever and uploaded to the internet for any old pervert to see.

I try to imagine what that will look like—how our bodies will fit together when I’m so small and he’s, well ... big. Liquid heat surges through me as I imagine all the savage ways he could take me, and my heart races knowing I might finally get to see that cocky bastard brought to his knees.

Do this because it’s killing you not to touch me, just like it’s killing me.

I clean every inch of my body as I think of him and what his big hands will feel like on me, where he might kiss me, and what he might do when I wrap my lips around him and swallow down his cum.

Need hums through me, and I switch off the shower and step out. I may have come to Ruin as a last resort, but the idea of fucking Bear is something I feel I have to do—but not because I don’t have a choice. I want this. I want him, and the idea of having it immortalized on camera forever makes me wet even after I’ve toweled off.

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