Page 42 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
“Far enough.” I growl, fear making me angry. “I couldn’t see you.”
Jerry shoves his snout under her hand, and she pets him absentmindedly as she looks around.
“I just needed...” She gestures vaguely at the peaceful scene surrounding us with babbling water and swaying ferns. “You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you. You seemed… tense. I get that this is an inconvenience for you. And I’m acting a little… strange.”
Tense, maybe. And strange, also, yes. And with good reason, but one I just can’t tell her about for now.
“I’m not a talker, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like… company… or… you.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“I’m just not used to sharing my space.”
The late afternoon air has a chill to it now that we’re in the shade of the trees. She’s not wearing enough layers. Already, her arms have goosebumps rising on the exposed skin.
“So, no more wandering off. I’m supposed to be protecting you, and I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are.” I shrug out of my fleece, the cool air hitting my damp neck, and hold it out to her. “Put this on.”
“I’m fine...” She doesn’t take it, stubborn as always.
I keep my arm extended. She’s not fine, she’s just too polite to complain. Like the damn water heater I should have fixed the minute she arrived.
“You’re cold. Take it.” My bear isn’t happy that I have to battle with her every time I offer her something. Food. A bath. Our bed. She fights my attempts to take care of her at every turn. He doesn’t understand that she doesn’t know, doesn’t have a clue about shifters or mates or the supernatural world at all.
I gather the fleece up and hold the collar open, like a parent dressing a toddler, and she gives me an exasperated chucklebefore shoving her head through the hole, laughing as I help her into it.
The fleece swallows her, just like everything else of mine. My fingers brush her wrists as I turn the sleeves up carefully, standing far too close for comfort.
“You can take the things you want; you know that, right? Without apologising for wanting them.” I let my thumb slide over her pulse, loving how it speeds up at my touch. “Your sister might have been the star, but you’re just as important. Let me take care of you.”
She goes very still, barely breathing. I can hear her pulse flutter. Is it fear or the same giddy nervousness I feel whenever I get close to her?
“There.” I turn up the collar to protect her neck from the biting wind that’s picked up since we came outside. My fingers graze the soft skin behind her ear, and she moans, barely audible, but enough to have my bear paying attention.
I do it again, and she shivers, looking up at me with those big, expressive eyes.
We both freeze. Time seems to stop. Even the creek’s sounds fade as I breathe her in, my bear pushing forward with every tempting taste of her scent on his tongue.
My other hand comes up to rest on her hip, ever so gently, and she sways toward me, moving closer, not pulling away.
“Ben…” Her sweet, sultry voice luring me closer is what snaps me out of my daze.
What the hell am I doing?
I step back abruptly, shoving my hands in my pockets before they can do something out of line, like trace the gentle curve of her jaw, or tip her chin up and kiss her.
“We should get you inside. It’s getting dark.”
A line appears between her eyebrows as she frowns, but she says nothing, just turns to lead the way back to the cabin on the narrow trail.
Jerry trots between us, occasionally stopping to sniff something he finds interesting.
We walk back in silence, our footsteps muffled by the carpet of leaves, but it’s not the same awkwardness from this morning. This time, it’s different. Charged. Like the air before a thunderstorm.
It’s already been one hell of a day, but it’s not over yet.
My bear is alert and senses something coming our way. I just pray it’s only some bad weather, but just in case it’s not, my girl’s going to be ready.
14
