Page 49 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
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ZARA
Iwake slowly, surrounded by warmth, after having the best sleep I can ever remember. There’s something solid under my cheek, rising and falling with a steady rhythm. My sleep-foggy brain takes a moment to process that I’m completely wrapped around Ben like he’s my personal body pillow.
One leg is thrown over his hip while the other is plastered along his thigh. My arm is splayed across his enormous chest, possessively cupping one big pec, and my face is buried in the crook of his neck. His arm is underneath me, wrapped around my back, gripping my waist and keeping me pressed tight to him.
We’re tangled together so thoroughly that I can’t tell where I end, and he begins.
Worse, Ben’s T-shirt has risen up so high that my skimpy white thong, which I’m very relieved to be wearing, is clearly on display. When I try to yank it down, I can’t. Ben’s octopus-like hold on me, and his thumb hooked into the back of my panties, is blocking the way. My ass remains on display.
Screaming silently against his dark grey T-shirt while sucking in a big lungful of his addictive smell, I will myself to calm down. It’s not that bad.
Except it is. One wrong move, and my thong will snap like dental floss, or end up down around my knees.
I should move. I should carefully extract myself from his grasp and sneak out, so we never discuss it again, same as the rest of the ever-expanding list of humiliating encounters, but he’s so warm, and his heartbeat under my palm is so steady. With the rain outside, everything feels cocooned and safe.
Plus, the damage is already done. There’s no denying I begged him to get into my bed.
His breathing changes, chest expanding deeper under my hand.
“Are you awake?” His voice is even deeper than usual, vibrating against my cheek. With a gentle pull, he rolls me into him and kisses the top of my head, a loud rumble of what sounds like contentment coming from his chest.
I freeze. Then he does, only now seeming to realise what he’s just done.
Neither of us says anything for way too long, both suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact between us. Slowly, tickling my skin as he does, Ben lets go of my hip and slides his hand away from my underwear.
“You need to let go.” His beard moves my hair as he speaks, and I practically melt at the intimacy of it, the strain in his voice making heat pool low in my belly.
Then I realise he’s telling me to stop clinging onto him like a koala.
“Right. Shit, sorry.” I start to unwind myself, but the movement brings my hip into contact with... oh.
OH. He’s pressed against me, hard and hot, through the fabric of his sweatpants. When I move my thigh, I can feel hiserection. As I slide my leg lower, it moves, and I let out a giddy little gasp.
“Zara.” My name comes out as a warning growl, each of his muscles now tense under my touch. “Now would be good.”
I scramble back so fast, I nearly tumble off the bed, sheets tangling around my legs. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to... I was half-asleep, and...”
Asleep and what, Zara?How am I going to finish that sentence? Horny? Rubbing myself against you like a cat?
“It’s fine.” He’s already rolling out of bed with fluid grace, keeping his back to me, but not before I get an eyeful of the impressive bulge in his sweatpants. The worn fabric clings to his hips, outlining everything in glorious detail. “I need a shower.”
My mouth goes dry as he strides toward the bathroom. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but somehow, it seems even naughtier to see his penis tenting his trousers than if it were swinging free.
Ben pauses at the doorway, catching me staring. Our eyes meet for one charged moment before he disappears inside, muttering something about needing a cold one.
The sound of the shower starting snaps me out of my trance. Flopping back on the bed, I press my palms to my burning cheeks. That was... I can’t even process what that was. All I know is the image of him, aroused and magnificent, will be burned into my brain for eternity, and I’ll be forever grateful.
Closing my eyes, the urge to slip my fingers between my legs to see if I’m as aroused as I feel is immense. I try to resist, but it’s too hard. Quickly, I slide my fingers between my lips and moan when, as suspected, I’m dripping wet and super sensitive. Something about this place, this man, has turned me into a sex pest.
By the time he emerges, fully dressed in jeans and another flannel, and carefully not looking at me, I’ve managed to getmyself mostly under control. My body’s still humming with awareness, but I’m dressed now, so slightly less likely to jump on top of him if he looks at me.
“I’ll put some coffee on,” he says, running a hand through his damp hair before heading for the kitchen. Ben pauses in the doorway, his head turning to the side briefly and dropping to my fingers, before his eyes flash gold.
He couldn’t know…
One big hand reaches out to grip the doorframe, his knuckles turning white, before he straightens and marches straight down the hall.
