She had told him during that conversation in the lobby that she was in Rio for an assignment.
Lie.
She’d volunteered for that summit job knowing he would be there. Ancestors help her, she had wanted to see him, to prove to herself that the thread between them was real. When he’d asked her to dinner, she’d fled like a coward.
She turned now, studying his face in the moonlight, and the realization struck with quiet certainty.
Love.
Not the fragile kind that trembled. The kind that burned through fear and found what was true beneath it.
Oh, Great Spirit. It was love. It had been all along. Every nightmare, every breathless moment, every tremor when his hand brushed hers. It was the body’s way of recognizing what the mind refused to name.
She now knew why she’d held back, why she hadn’t given him everything like she wanted to. She’d always measured everything by achievements, not relationships, and deep down, buried in a desperate attempt to avoid thinking about it, was the simple fact.
She didn’t feel worthy of Bear’s love. He was everything she was running from.
She leaned over him, heart hammering, and pressed her mouth softly to his. A whisper of contact. His lips were warm, familiar, grounding. When she pulled back, his lashes fluttered. Dark eyes opened, focusing on her through the silver light. A faint smile touched his mouth.
Then he saw her expression, and the smile faltered. “Bailee,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. “What’s wrong?”
Her throat closed. She touched his face, fingertips trembling. “I love you, Dakota.” The words came out raw, unguarded, a confession ripped from somewhere deeper than thought. “I didn’t see it until now, but I felt it every day. I love you.”
For a heartbeat he didn’t move, only stared at her as if memorizing the shape of what she’d said. His hand came up, covering hers against his cheek. The warmth of him spread through her palm.
He exhaled slowly, eyes steady on hers. “Then don’t be afraid of it.”
The simplicity of it broke something open inside her. The tears came silent and hot, and he caught her, drawing her against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat until the last echo of the nightmare faded, replaced by that single, living rhythm, proof that he was here, that love was still possible in a world built on danger.
Outside, the rain began again, soft against the glass, like the world whispering yes.
The storm had passed between them, but the quiet that followed wasn’t empty.
It was sacred.
Bear lay still beneath her, chest rising slow and heavy, eyes half-lidded as he tried to catch his breath. She could feel the weight of what he’d given her, the truth he’d finally spoken, the wound he’d never shared with anyone. It wasn’t just sex. It was his breaking. She’d been the one to hold it.
She wanted to give something back. Not comfort. Not sweetness.
Honor.
She shifted slowly, reverently, sliding down the bed until she knelt between his thighs. He blinked at her, confusion flickering in those steady brown eyes, but he didn’t stop her. Didn’t ask. Didn’t speak.
Bailee placed her hands on his hips, her touch firm, grounding. Then she bowed her head. Not to worship, to witness, to offer.
She kissed the hard line of his abdomen, felt the tremor beneath his skin. He was already half-hard again, not from demand, but from the quiet charge in the air like the earth itself was holding its breath.
When she took him into her mouth, it was slow. Purposeful. She didn’t tease. Didn’t perform. She received him. Let him feel her devotion in the warm slide of her tongue, the sure press of her lips, the hollow of her cheeks.
He groaned low, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other drifting to her shoulder, not to guide her. Just to touch. To anchor.
She closed her eyes, letting every movement speak for her.
You’re safe here.
You’re worthy.
You don’t have to give. Just receive.
