Page 45 of The Bear's Perfect Mate
Instead, she found herself taking a step toward Nero, then another, until she stood directly in front of him. Slowly, deliberately, she reached out and placed her hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat—strong, steady, human, yet also something more.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For trusting me.”
“Thank you for staying.” His hand covered hers. “I know this is overwhelming. If you want to leave Bear Creek, I’llunderstand. I’ll help you pack your things and drive you wherever you want to go.”
The sorrow in his eyes cut her deep. This man, this bear shifter, was willing to let her go if that was what she needed, despite whatever powerful connection he felt toward her.
“I don’t want to leave,” she said, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice.
Relief washed over Nero’s features. “You’re staying?”
“I’m staying,” Sophie confirmed. “I don’t understand any of this yet, and I’m not making any promises about...us. But I’m not running away, either.”
Nero let out a long breath. “That’s more than I dared hope for.”
After everything with Tito, this was the most honest anyone had ever been with her.
She looked up. “Can I ask something?”
“Anything.”
“Can you do that again?”
His brow furrowed. “Shift?”
She nodded. “I want to see.”
“Sure.” He looked a little bemused and maybe confused as he stepped away from her. Once more, the air cracked and popped, and then he was gone.
She held her breath, but then an instant later, the bear appeared. Nero’s bear.
“You’re beautiful,” she murmured.
She stroked his shoulders, ran her hands along his face, feeling the muscles shift beneath his coat. It was intimate, wild, and utterly Nero. When she scratched behind his ears, his eyes half-closed in pleasure.
“I can see you in there,” she whispered. “It’s still you.”
On impulse, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. The bear went very still, as if holding his breath. Sophie pulled back slightly, her hands still buried in his fur, and their eyes met in silent communication.
The air shimmered again, and suddenly she was holding Nero’s face between her palms, his human skin warm beneath her touch. The transformation had happened so quickly that she found herself still leaning in, mere inches from his face.
“Sophie,” he said, voice rough.
Without hesitation, she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his.
Nero looked down at her, a question in his eyes—one last chance, to be sure. Sophie answered by rising on her tiptoes and capturing his mouth in a kiss that left no room for doubt.
She was his as surely as he was hers.
A groan rumbled through Nero’s chest as his arms encircled her waist, pulling her even closer. His hands roamed her body, tracing the curve of her spine, the flare of her hips, as if committing every inch to memory.
The kiss deepened, her hunger for him deepening. Sophie felt lightheaded with desire, her body responding to his touch with an intensity that startled her. This was nothing like the calculated passion she’d experienced with Tito.
This was primal, elemental, a recognition on the most basic level.
“I want you,” she whispered against his lips, the words escaping before she could consider them.
His eyes darkened. “Are you sure?”
