Page 31 of Bear Naked Truth
He nodded. “And?” he asked, a little hopeful, a little careful.
She was quiet for a beat. “Missy says I’m emotionally stunted and afraid of vulnerability.”
He snorted. “Sounds about right.”
Autumn gave him a sidelong look, half amused, half exasperated. “And you’re not?”
“Oh, I’m definitely afraid,” he said. “Difference is, I’ve been staring down bears and broken plumbing long enough to do things scared.”
There was a pause before she said gently: “You make a mean sandwich for someone who seems to know their way more around the carpentry side than the kitchen.”
“I aim to please.”
They stood like that for a while, shoulder to shoulder, watching the rain smear silver streaks across the mountain view. Thunder grumbled low in the distance.
“So, you never really have thought about leaving?” she asked, quietly.
“Sometimes,” he said. “Like I said, after the fire, I didn’t think I had anything left. But this place… it called me back.”
“You believe in that?” she asked. “Places calling to people?”
“I believe in a lot of things now,” he said, looking at her.
Autumn didn’t flinch under the weight of his gaze. That was something he’d always liked about her. She met him head-on. Even when she was scared. Even when she wanted to run.
Her sweater was damp at the sleeves, hair pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder. A few strands clung to her cheek, and he reached up without thinking, brushing them back.
She stiffened but didn’t move.
His fingers lingered at her jaw, warm against the cool drizzle still hanging in the air.
“You’re hard to read,” he murmured.
“You’re easy to fall for,” she said before she seemed to be able to stop herself.
The words hung between them like thunder.
She blinked, as if surprised by her own mouth, and moved to step back but Dorian’s hand was already at her waist, gentle but firm.
“Don’t,” he said. Not a command. A plea.
Rain tapped on the porch roof. Somewhere down the lane, a dog barked once, and then the whole world went quiet again.
Autumn looked up at him, violet-blue eyes wide and unguarded for once. “Dorian…”
“I know this started out fake,” he said, voice rough. “But there ain’t a thing about what I feel for you that doesn’t feel real. My bear isn’t allowing that.”
She didn’t speak. Just reached up and touched his chest, right where his heart beat steady under flannel and warmth.
And then, without ceremony, without panic, she rose on her toes and kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t wild or desperate. It was soft. Intentional. A pause. A letting go.
His hands curled around her waist as he kissed her back, slow and reverent. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt. They fit, somehow. In the rain, under the sloped eaves of a house full of ghosts and history, they fit.
When they finally pulled apart, she didn’t move far.
Her breath was warm against his jaw. “This changes things.”
