I’m shaking.Sweat breaks out across my back.
My bear roars.Let us?—
“Not unless she asks,” I snarl through clenched teeth.
Her eyes widen.
Then she smiles.
“I like this,” she whispers.“The control.”
I grunt.“You can have all of it.Everything I am.All I want—everything I need—is for you to be safe and happy.”
Something soft flickers across her face.
Then she kisses me again, slower this time.
My bear is feral.Maintaining my control is agony.
She rests her forehead against mine.
“If I wanted to stop right now?—”
“Then we fucking stop,” I cut in instantly.
Her breath catches.“And if I told you to pick me up and carry me to bed?”
“Then I ask how you want to be carried.”
She grins, delighted.“Like this.”
She jumps.I catch her automatically, strength surging through me as she wraps herself around me and kisses me breathless.
“Okay, big guy.Take me to bed,” she whispers.
I don’t trust my voice, so I don’t speak.I just move.
Fern’s legs lock around my waist as I carry her down the hall, every step measured, controlled, even though my bear is clawing at my ribs like he wants out.The house feels smaller, hotter, like the walls themselves are leaning in to watch.
Her mouth is on my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, soft, curious kisses that feel like torture.She’s exploring, learning me, and that she’s doing it by choice nearly breaks me.
“Bedroom,” she breathes, like she’s afraid that if she speaks louder, I’ll disappear.
I nudge the door open with my foot and step inside, kicking it shut behind us.The scent hits me immediately, her, me, the bond humming between us like a live wire.My bear rumbles, low and satisfied.
Mine.
I set her down on the edge of the bed slowly, deliberately, giving her time.Giving her space to change her mind.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she reaches for me.
Her hands slide up my chest, palms flat, reverent.Like she’s memorizing me.Like she’s making sure I’m real.
“You’re shaking,” she murmurs.
“So are you,” I rasp.
