Page 47 of Bear Naked Truth
She turned to face him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes searching his.
“I don’t know what to do with this,” she whispered.
“With what, my coat?”
“You,” she said. “Us. This feeling like the ground’s shifting under me every time I look at you.”
He stepped closer, one hand cupping her cheek. “All I can suggest is to stop fighting it.”
She leaned in before she could think twice, and when their lips met, it was quiet and certain with steady and slow heat, the kind that burns low and lasts through the longest nights.
His arms slid around her waist. Her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt. She pulled him closer like she was afraid to let go, and he didn’t let her.
They stayed like that until the cold nipped at their heels.
Back inside, he led her upstairs to his room—slow, careful, never pushing.
She stood by the bed, staring at him, eyes wide, chest rising and falling with something heavy.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice hushed.
She nodded once.
They didn’t rush.
Every movement was deliberate, a silent promise passed from breath to breath. Dorian’s shirt hit the floor first, the fabric whispering against skin that ran hot—his natural warmth like a steady hearthfire. Autumn’s fingers hovered at the hem of her own sweater, uncertain, until he stepped in, gently curling his fingers around hers.
“Let me,” he murmured.
She lifted her arms, and he peeled the sweater up and over her head with reverence, letting it fall to the floor witha softness that belied the thrum of tension between them. The tank top beneath followed, baring skin pale in the moonlight filtering through the window. Scars laced his ribs, old and faded, reminders of a past he never spoke about—but she traced them now with a featherlight touch, memorizing.
Dorian’s breath caught when she laid her palm against his chest. “You feel like sunlight,” she whispered.
His hand found the small of her back, then slid lower, cupping her curves with a groan so low it rumbled from deep within his chest—his bear close, just under the surface, content and stirring for her alone.
“You feel like gravity,” he answered hoarsely, kissing her again, deeper this time. “Like something I was always supposed to find.”
Autumn’s fingers trembled at the waistband of his jeans. She unbuttoned them slowly, savoring the weight of what they were choosing together. His cock sprang free when she eased his boxers down—thick, flushed, already aching for her. She stared for a breathless moment, and the hunger in her eyes nearly undid him.
“You can touch me,” he said, voice gone rough with restraint. “Please.”
Her hand wrapped around him, tentative at first, then bolder when she felt the way he shuddered beneath her touch. “God, Dorian... you’re so hot,” she breathed. “You’re burning up.”
He chuckled lowly, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Always run hot, sweetheart. Especially for you.”
She tugged her own leggings down, stepping out of them with a graceless kick, her combat boots long since discarded. Left in just her panties, violet-blue eyes meeting molten brown, she reached for him again, but he caught her wrists, brought them to his lips.
“My turn,” he said.
Dorian guided her gently to the bed, laying her back against the sheets like she was something precious. He kissed his way down her throat, slow and unhurried, pausing at the hollow between her breasts to murmur, “Beautiful,” as his thumb traced the outline of her bra and unclasped it with ease.
Her nipples peaked as the cool air touched them, but it was his mouth that made her arch—hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses over one breast, then the other, his stubble leaving ghost trails across her skin.
“Dorian,” she whispered, half-moan, half-prayer.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered back, settling between her thighs, his broad shoulders nudging them open. Her panties were soaked through, clinging to her like a second skin. He inhaled, groaned like it physically pained him. “You smell like moonlight and need. Fuck.”
With one slow pull, he peeled them down, baring her completely. He didn’t hesitate. He kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, and finally leaned in, tongue sliding between her folds with a reverent groan.
