He stepped back from the nest’s border. “Give me a minute,” he murmured, disappearing behind one of the alcoved walls of his perilous home.
Moments later, the marshmallow smell was replaced by the sound of running water, followed by the quiet hum of a dryer.
Then Koda returned, wearing nothing but the carved planes of his marble-statue body.
My breath hitched. How had his bear possibly chosenme?
Yet the hunger in his gaze left no doubt.
“Now?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint. “May I join you?”
I nodded wordlessly, the tension in the air crackling between us. His desire—well, at least his bear’s—was palpable as he settled onto the blankets beside me.
His dark eyes roamed over me, lingering. I wondered if he’d ask me to take off the shirt and flannel I’d borrowed from the Viking. I didn’t want to for reasons I couldn’t quite name, but I’d do it if it meant moving this possible baby-making show along.
Instead, he said, “Please present in the standard position for a claim.”
Another request that turned out to be a command. Before I could ask what he meant, he flipped me onto my stomach and pulled my hips back, positioning me on my hands and knees.
Presenting.
His meaning became crystal clear as I dripped estrus, waiting for what came next.
“You’re drenched,” he observed, his tone devoid of inflection.
The mushroom tip of his cock pressed into, but didn’t quite penetrate, the entrance of my core. “Are you sure? Sure you want this?”
Technically, he was verifying my enthusiastic consent. But it felt like teasing—a cruel reminder of how very clearly Ididwant him. Wantedthis.
“Yes!” I whined, too far gone to care about pride.
Did I say my estrus had ebbed? It reignited back with a vengeance, a wave of desperate heat flooding me as I shamelessly rocked my hips, trying to draw him inside.
“Yes, please, please give it to me,” I begged.
Panic clawed my chest, primal and irrational. My body trembled, and my heart hammered like I might actuallydieif this bear shifter didn’t take me right now.
“Please!” I cried again when he didn’t move.
Unfortunately, Koda didn’t seem to share my sense of urgency.
He trailed a hand down my shoulder blade before reaching underneath me to cup my breast over the Viking’s borrowed flannel. Like he was considering the ripeness and weight of a covered melon.
Regret joined the panic. Why had I kept the shirt on? I arched my back with a whine, desperate for the feel of his skin on mine. But he only said, “Patience, Holly.”
But his hand trailed lower, sliding beneath the shirt’s hem to grip the crease where my leg met my stomach. Giving me the skin-to-skin contact I’d been aching for. My body quaked at the rough warmth of his palm.
“You’re sure you’re ready, Holly?” he asked, nonetheless. “You wouldn’t lie to me about that… Like you lied about going home.”
“I didn’t lie,” I snapped, disliking him immensely even as I squirmed beneath him, desperate for more. “I just didn’tdowhat you commanded. Is that why you’re torturing me instead of helping me, like you said you would?”
“This isn’t helping?” he asked, faux innocence seeping into his monotone. “Only one thing will do for the female who turned my life upside down?”
He rocked his hips against me, the thick heat of his hard length sliding along my folds but not inside them.
“Now?” I groaned, frustration spilling over into a growl. “Nowis when you decide to show me you’ve got a sense of humor?”
“Where’s the joke?”
