Page 19 of Amber: Deja Brew

“Magic...” I repeat as my brain struggles to focus on the conversation. “Oh, right. Um... did you bring a bunch of other spells with you? You know, like the Wobble Stopper?”

“Even better.” Wes grins. “I called in some help.”

“Help? But I never saw anyone come in. Unless...” I remember the time the door chimed, right before Rose showed up—while I was busy impersonating a police officer.

“I called one of our Cleanly Den Witches, Zoe,” Wes says, “and she flew in through the window.” Which leaves the mystery of the chiming door unsolved. Then again, it was probably just a customer who saw the cafe was empty and just left. So, no mystery at all.

“When was Zoe here? And how did she fix all this?” I ask as Wes leans closer, forcing me to spread my legs a bit wider to make room for his broad chest.

“She did a quick paint and shine spell while I took apart all the furniture,” Wes says. “Then she floated all the pieces out the window into the Cleanly Den van and took it to the junkyard.”

“That was really nice of her,” I comment, though my mind isn’t really on Zoe. It’s on Wes. On how close my bear shifter is. On how much I want to kiss him. To peel his shirt from his hard, muscular chest or yank his pants off.

"Are you still sore?" he asks, his thoughts clearly running along the same lines.

“No.” I shake my head, and that’s all it takes.

"Oh, hell, Amber." Wes groans. Not Ambear. Not little bear. Amber. And then he covers my mouth in a warm, wet kiss.

With a moan, I grab fistfuls of his shirt and hold on for dear life.

Wes kisses me like he’s devouring me. He slides his tongue into my mouth and seeks out my own. His large hands cup my head, and then he threads his fingers through my hair as pours every bit of passion into the kiss.

I yank his shirt up, but just as my palms make contact with his hard abs, Wes pulls back. I moan at the loss, but he moves his lips to my neck instead.

“Oh, Wes!”

“Hush, little bear,” he whispers against my neck. He gives it another wet kiss, making my back arch as tingles sweep down my spine. “You don’t want any of the customers downstairs to hear.”

“They can’t hear us with the door closed,” I pant.

“They can if they’re supes,” Wes replies, reminding me that he could hear when Julian was on the phone. “Which is why you’re going to have to stay very, very quiet.”

He grabs my ass, pulls me forward, and grinds his hard bulge through our clothes against my core.

It takes everything I have in me not to moan. Pleasure shoots through me, and I grind myself right back. Again and again. Wanting more. Needing more.

“Wes, please,” I beg, making sure to keep it to a soft whisper. One that I really hope Chase and Julian don’t hear. “I want you inside me.”

“Not today, little bear,” he whispers back, breathing hard against my neck. “Not until you’ve had time to recover.”

“I don’t need time to recover,” I complain. “I’m not even sore. And I want you, Wes.”

“I know you do, Ambear. I want you too. But I’m a big man. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Wes groans and rests his forehead against mine. “As much as I want to do this, I’m not going to risk hurting you. Not when we have all the time in the world.”

“But...”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good, Ambear.” Wes slides his large palm up my thigh and pushes my panties aside. I gasp.

Then, he slides one finger against my clit, just a whisper of a touch, and my hips buck.

I gasp as pleasure shoots through me, followed by frustration. Wes is gentle, too gentle. No matter how much I urge him on, thrusting into his touch, circling my hips, shifting forward on the counter, he doesn’t relent. Finally, I grab his hand and try to force him to move faster, but Wes just chuckles, like my passion amuses him.

The frustration coursing through me drives me insane. How can he laugh while he’s got a hand between my legs? How can he be completely unaffected while I’m falling apart with need? And how dare he keep acting like I’m a doll that might break?