Page 74 of Hero Mine

Bear’s expression softened as he brushed her hair back from her face. “I like all of you. The tomboy who jumps in freezing lakes. The woman who designs pink food trucks. The one who wears lace beneath her jeans.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Every version of you is the one I want.”

Joy’s throat tightened with emotion. “Even the one who’s still figuring things out?”

“Especially her.” He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll figure it out together.”

She settled against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t afraid of the silence, of the shadows, of her own mind.

She was home.

Chapter21

Bear couldn’t sleep.

The problem wasn’t insomnia—he was exhausted in the best possible way. The problem was that he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. Not when Joy was curled against him, her breath warm against his chest, her hair spilling across his arm like fire in the dim light.

He’d be damned if he was going to miss a single moment of this.

He traced lazy patterns up and down her spine, savoring the softness of her skin. The midnight-blue lingerie lay scattered across the floor, a tangible reminder that Joy Davis had completely and utterly rocked his world tonight.

Not that he should have been surprised. Everything about Joy had always been a revelation.

But the lingerie… Christ. The memory of her standing there, silk robe pooled at her feet, that delicate lace hugging every curve, those garters connecting to stockings that made her legs look a mile long—it had nearly brought him to his knees.

The image was seared into his brain: Joy, with her fiery confidence and that hint of vulnerability in her eyes as she’d revealed this hidden part of herself. The way the midnight blue had contrasted with her creamy skin, how the material had caught the light when she moved. How she’d stood there, not hiding, not ashamed, but proud. Waiting for his reaction.

In all his fantasies about Joy over the years—and there had been many—he’d never imagined this. The reality of her had surpassed anything his mind could have conjured.

It wasn’t because he hadn’t known she was beautiful. He’d always known that.

But because in that moment, seeing her that way, he’d seenallof her. The wild-child tomboy who’d jump into freezing water on a dare. The fierce woman who’d fought back against men twice her size. The artist who’d hand-painted delicate flowers on her food truck. The secret-keeper who’d been collecting lingerie for years, waiting for the right moment to share that side of herself.

She’d trusted him with all of it. With all of her.

And just like that, the last wall inside him crumbled.

He was in love with her. Not just attracted to her—though God knew he was. Not just fond of her or protective of her or invested in her healing. He was in love with her, so completely that it terrified him. Had been for longer than he could admit, even to himself.

Maybe it had started all those years ago when she’d tried to seduce him at the lake, all flash and fire and teenage bravado. Or maybe it had been building for a lifetime—from the little girl who’d followed him around, to the teenager who’d challenged him at every turn, to the woman who now fit against him like she’d been made to be there.

Or maybe it was simply inevitable—as natural and unstoppable as gravity.

He studied her face in the soft glow from the streetlamp outside her window. The freckles scattered across her nose that she used to hate but he’d always found endearing. The small scar near her eyebrow from when she’d fallen out of a tree at nine years old. The curve of her lips that seemed permanently ready to either smile or sass him.

How many times had he imagined this? Being with her like this? Too many to count. But the reality of it—the weight of her against him, the vanilla scent of her hair, the quiet intimacy of lying in her bed after making love to her—was better than any daydream.

Joy shifted in his arms, pressing closer, and Bear tightened his hold instinctively. Her curves molded against the harder planes of his body, perfect counterpoints. Yin and yang.

The house creaked around them, settling for the night. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees in her yard, a gentle backdrop to the rhythm of her breathing. It was peaceful. Perfect. A moment he never wanted to end.

Her breath was steady, but as he finally started to drift toward sleep, he felt it—the subtle change in her body. A tension that hadn’t been there moments before. The almost imperceptible stiffening of her shoulders, the slight catch in her breathing pattern.

Bear didn’t move, didn’t startle her. Just whispered into the darkness, “You good, Bug?”

Joy stayed still for a long moment, then let out a shallow breath. “Yeah.”

She wasn’t.

“Talk to me,” he murmured, keeping his voice soft. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

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