I’m trembling when I come back down, not sure if I’m dreaming or awake for a moment. I could swear I smell that cedarwood and bourbon scent and feel the rough graze of his stubbled chin over the skin of my neck.
I sit up, pushing sweat dampened hair off my forehead, searching for the glass of water at my bedside.
That was the most vivid dream I’ve had in a long, long time. It lingers even now with my eyes wide open and the lamp on the night stand on.
His warm brown eyes. His deep, gravelly voice.
I’m so fucked. How am I supposed to go to work tomorrow and not just jump his bones with these images swirling around in my head?
I sink back onto the pillow and rub out another two orgasms just for good measure, but nothing works. When I pull the duvet back over me and close my eyes again, I’m still surrounded by the imaginary, warm honey sweetness of his presence, and I go to sleep with his name on my lips.
SEVEN
Vera
Despite my very vivid, very inappropriate dreams—yes, we’re calling them dreams—I get through the next three days with zero groping incidents and without blurting anything embarrassing. I may or may not spend too long staring at the back of his head or his ass whenever he’s not looking at me, but other than that, Bas is one hundred percent safe from me and my stupid brain.
If only I was safe.
By day three, I resort to packing a change of underwear so I can switch them part way through the day. I hide the morning’s pair into a zip lock bag to keep the scent contained and lather on extra perfume, and it seems to hold. It’s just me going quietly crazy while Bas acts like the perfect professional. He’s warm, but not to the point that it crosses a line. He’s caring, but he’s also careful not to put his hands on me or touch me in any way.
The weather is icy, and I relish the time we spend out of the office just for the cool, fresh air on my hot cheeks and all thescents of the park that help distract me from the honey-bourbon scent I think I might actually be clinically addicted to.
The park is still closed, and there’s been a severe weather warning since we’re expecting snow, so Bas is understandably annoyed when we arrive that morning to find the gate already open and the chain busted. “Jerks. They couldn’t wait a few days?”
“We definitely locked that last night, right?” I chew my lip trying to remember, but I was pretty distracted. I hope I haven’t done the wrong thing and let him down.
“Yeah, we locked it. You wait. It’ll be tourists trying to camp for free while they think there’s no one here to catch them out. You see it all the time. They’ve probably brought a camper up here. They’re lucky it hasn’t snowed yet. They’ll never get it out.”
I can see why that sort of behavior would piss him off. “How do we find them?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “The easiest way is to shift, but…” He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to.
Obviously I can’t shift, and he knows that. He’s waiting to see whether I’ll feel uncomfortable if he does. “Of course. I’ll um… I’ll turn around.” Wishing I didn’t have to, I spin to face the other direction while Bas undresses. Shifting is done in stages, and depending on the animal, some shifters get a lot bigger real fast. Bas in particular, since his beast is a bear. It tends to be hard on clothes.
If it’s possible to perv with your ears, I perv. I listen until I strain something, imagining each button of his shirt being undone, each inch of solid, hairy flesh being exposed.
I run my tongue over dry lips and shove my hands a little deeper into the pockets of my jacket.
I jump when something nudges my shoulder and spin to find myself looking at a huge dark brown bear. My eyes widen. I haven’t seen Bas in his four-legged form for years. He and Rileystopped shifting around me as much as they could help it when it became clear I wouldn’t make the change.
He’s bigger than I remember, which I guess makes sense since he’s bigger in his human form too. His bear has filled out in much the same ways. His shoulders got wider, he’s taller, and his face and chin have grown solid. On all fours he’s nose to nose with me at five feet, so I get a real good look in those rich brown eyes.
Of course he can’t speak like this, but he twists his head around to point his nose at his back and leans down lower, and you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what he’s asking.
A little spark of excitement skates through me as I move to his side and climb onto his back. It feels so intimate to wrap my legs around him and cling tight to his shaggy winter fur, but somehow safe, since this form is simpler, more animalistic. And he can’t talk to ask questions about why my hands might be shaking a little as I cling onto him!
His sense of smell will be even stronger like this, though, a fact I’m acutely conscious of as I swing my leg over him.
He lifts up to his full height again and pauses, checking to see if I’m stable.
I reach forward and pat his shoulder. “I’m good.”
My heart is beating like a maniac, though, as he turns and lowers his nose to the ground then trots up the hill toward the Bailey’s Lookout trail.
His body is warm and strong beneath me, and he moves fast. I never once feel like I’m going to fall off because he somehow makes sure of it. At the top of the hill, there’s a parking lot with a large gravel area and a lookout over the valley below. The trail goes down into the valley, but Bas stops in the parking lot and lets me down.
I can’t see any signs of people, although I do see what looks like fresh tire marks.
