Page 52 of Holly's Grizzly

Holly moves her hips on me while we kiss, grinding against the ridge of my erection. She’s restless and demanding, working herself up while she does the same to me, and when she pulls back, panting, I’m done for.

“Sweetheart,” I say, low and rough, as I lean in to press my teeth to her throat. “Tell me what you want.”

Anything. Anything she wants, it’s hers.

“You. I want you.”

With another satisfied growl, I stand from the couch, keeping Holly held firmly against me and swallowing the surprised little squeak she lets out against my lips. I carry her to the stairs and then up into the loft, sprawling her across my bed.

I join her there, pressing her into the mattress as I get to work sliding off her layers, exploring every inch I lay bare. Kisses pressed to her throat and clavicle, hands mapping the slender curves of her hips, teeth rasped lightly against the taut peaks of her breasts, the underside of her ribs, just above her navel. I take all the time I want.

She lets out another breathless laugh—effervescent with her joy—and the reality of it hits me all at once.

Time.

Holly and I have time.

Time to get to know each other more deeply. Time to figure out where this might lead. Time to savor slowly and enjoy.

With that in mind, I get back to work taking her apart bit by bit.

I taste and tease, kiss and nip, make a study of every glorious inch of her. And, when she’s good and riled and ready to combust, Holly surges up and rolls me over so she can do the same. Hands threaded through my hair, lips pressed to my skin, body warm and eager against mine.

We end up on our sides, facing each other. We’re both breathless, straining, desperate for it as I catch her leg around the back of the knee and hitch it up over my hip. Lining myself up at her entrance, I take her chin in my hand and kiss her deep as I thrust into her, devour her moan as we start moving together.

Holly shatters first, and I follow just a few short seconds later, spilling into her with a force that whites out the edges of my vision and narrows my entire world down to her, only her.

Even then, in the glow of the aftermath, there’s no rush.

There’s nothing to do and nowhere to be, nothing that matters more in this moment than savoring the connection between us.

It’s later, much later, when the moon shines brightly through the skylight and the fire burns low in the fireplace downstairs, when we’re cleaned up and tucked back into bed, that those moments slow even further.

Sleepy touches and even breaths, the steady beat of her heart as I rest my head on her chest and she runs her fingers through my hair.

We fall asleep just like that. Together. With all the time and all the peace in the world wrapped securely around us.

22

Holly - One year and eight months later

“Beautiful weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

I look up, startled, from where I’d been taking in the view of the sun just beginning to set over the mountains.

Beside me, an unfamiliar man who looks like he’s in his late twenties smiles down at me. There’s something expectant in his eyes, something flirty, and I fight the urge to roll my own.

Why anyone thinks the middle of the Pacific Crest Trail is an appropriate place to hit on someone, I’ll never understand.

I give him a small, tight-lipped smile that I hope reads as ‘not today, buddy’ before turning back to the view.

“Yeah,” is all I say, but he’s undeterred.

“So, you doing the whole PCT, or—”

His words cut off abruptly. When I look over, his eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open in shock. I follow his gaze and have to bite back a startled laugh.

Irving ambles out of the trees in his grizzly form, and the man at my side stumbles back, reaching for the can of bear spray on his belt loop.

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