Page 36 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
That deep voice does something to me.
I close my eyes and rest my head back, letting my mind drift. Except the only place it wants to return to, over and over, is thoughts of Ben. And more than anything, his smell. The way it curls around me and makes my insides coil up tightly.
I moan again and clench my core to ease the ache building there. Maybe there’s something wrong with me? I need to see a doctor when I get home. Or maybe, this is what it feels like to really fancy someone.
Ben is nothing like the pretty actor types Amber dates, and who occasionally deign to speak to me. In comparison, they’re mere boys. I bet none of them can fix a water heater. Or cook food so good, it makes a woman lose her damn mind and start licking people.
Thisis why I’ve never reacted to someone like this before. It’s not that I have no sex drive; it’s that my body knows what it likes and what it doesn’t. And part of my brain knew that men like Ben existed somewhere, and that’s what I needed to bring my non-existent libido to life.
Watching a grumpy mountain man, who barely talks, while he fixes things, is my weakness. Is DIY porn a thing? Where you just enjoy the sight of handsome, capable men fixing things? If it isn’t, it should be.
“Calm down,” I reprimand myself.
He’s looked shocked and appalled every time I’ve touched him so far. I should probably take the hint and concentrate on getting through the next few days without making a fool of myself.
Scratch that.Moreof a fool of myself.
Sighing, I grab the bar of soap, the one that smells like Ben, and wash my body, letting my hands roam once more, lazily making circles around my already swollen clit. I lift one arm out of the water and watch droplets run down skin that’s already turning pink from the heat.
Heaven.
An image of Ben leaning over the tub, one hand on either side, staring down at me, flashes unbidden into my mind, and my heart skips a beat. How nice would that be? I bet he’d be thorough. He doesn’t strike me as a man who’d leave a jobunfinished.
Pressing my thighs together, I stifle a frustrated moan as I imagine him kneeling down, parting my legs, and…
I cover my eyes and let my head fall back against the curved white porcelain edge as steam rises around me, fogging the small bathroom window.
Oh, I’ve got it bad. Maybe this is some kind of trauma response. I’ll have to look that up when I get back. A sudden desire to distract yourself from your actual problems with sex and food and daydreaming about getting felt up in a bathtub.
But then, as I peek out between my fingers, something catches my eye, and my moment of self-pitying is over.
A shadow at the window that doesn’t match the swaying branches brings reality crashing back. Just because I’m far away, doesn’t mean I should assume I’m safe.
I’m a fool.
My heart stutters as I sit up slowly, water sloshing gently against the sides of the tub when I move. My fingers grip the slippery edge. There’s definitely something out there.
The shadow moves again. Closer. Blocking more of the light filtering through the fogged glass. It’s solid. Not leaves. Not a branch. And not something being blown by the wind.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
He found me.Somehow, he found me, even here.
The shadow shifts suddenly, pressing hard against the window. Blue eyes stare directly at me through the steam.
I’m naked. In a tub. And he’s looking right at me from only a few feet away.
A wild scream tears out of me before I can stop it. Pure terror, echoing off the bathroom walls.
I scoot back as far as I can, desperately reaching for a towel on the far wall. It’s too far away from me yet too close to the window where my tormentor continues to stare, unmoving.
“Ben,” I call frantically. “BEN.”
Heavy footsteps pound down the hall, and the bathroom door slams open, so hard, it bounces off the wall with a crack.
Ben fills the doorframe, shoulders squared, and fists clenched, looking ready for war. His eyes scan the small space in one swift motion before landing on me.
I’m sitting in the tub, soaped up and dripping wet, and completely exposed, with one hand between my thighs and another across my chest for modesty. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. His dark eyes travel over me, taking in everything.
