Page 28 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
Her eyes flick to the basket, then back to my face. “No.”
I growl. “Just give them to me. I’m putting in a load.” And hiding the destroyed bedding.
“I was trying to figure out how to heat water earlier, so if you just show me, I can do it myself.”
The rosy colour in her cheeks is adorable as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers shaking, giving away her nerves.
“The machine does a cold wash fine.” I’m trying to be normal. To pretend like neither of us is humming with need. Why is she making this so hard?
“Right. Of course.” She sets the book aside and stands with obvious reluctance. “I’ll just... get my things.”
I follow her to the bedroom and hover in the doorway as she gathers clothes from a hiding place under a towel on the chair. She’s moving stiffly, like she’s as aware of me as I am of her in this small space.
“The rest are covered in garbage juice or got torn,” she says, not looking at me. “These are pretty much all I have left, the only things that were salvageable…”
She turns, holding a small bundle, and takes a shaky breath before dropping the clothes on top of my pile. Delicate white lace. A bra so sheer, I can see her fingers through it. Matching panties that are more suggestion than actual fabric.
My mouth waters at the thought of her in them.
Fuck me. What did I do to deserve this?
Her face goes crimson.
“Do you…” I swallow. “I have some boxers you can borrow…”
She looks between us…
My waist is about twice the size of hers.
“It’s okay. They’ll just be too big, like the sweatpants. Thank you, though.”
My bear is thrilled, but I tell him to shut up.
“I’ll get these back to you soon.” I manage, backing toward the door.
“No rush,” she says faintly. “I’m not exactly going anywhere.”
She’s trapped here. With me. And despite everything, despite the danger that drove her here, I can tell that she’s not entirely unhappy about it.
That makes two of us.
Which makes me realise what the biggest problem is… Eventually, shewillleave.
And I’ll be a broken man when she does.
9
ZARA
Aknock on the bedroom door startles me from my book. I’ve been reading the same paragraph for twenty minutes now, unable to focus on anything except the memory of Ben standing naked in the doorway.
“Come in,” I call, expecting him to need something from his own room.
The door opens, and Ben fills the frame, holding a basket of folded laundry. My clean clothes sit on top, and right there, visible to both of us, are my white lace panties.
“Your things,” he says gruffly, not meeting my eyes. “Sorry. I thought I heard the shower running.”
So he was trying to avoid me. Planning to drop my underwear and escape before I knew he’d even been here. Not that I blame him. The atmosphere has been… tense, to say the least, all evening.
