Page 38 of Bear and Book

Not long ago, I’d been convinced keeping my distance was the only way to protect both of us.

Now Leo was in my bed, his scent tangled in my sheets, his body fitting against mine like he’d always been meant to be there.

I could still feel him everywhere. The heat of his mouth, the weight of his hands, the low rumble of his voice when he’d whispered my name. His dick inside me.

The memory made my pulse jump, but it also stirred something quieter. Something I didn’t dare name yet.

My fox was content, stretched out inside me in a way it hadn’t been for years, tail flicking lazily as if to say, Finally.

I reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from Leo’s forehead. He stirred slightly, murmuring something I couldn’t catch, but didn’t wake.

I should have been happy, and part of me was. The bigger part, maybe. However, in the back of my mind, the doubts had already started lining up.

What if I wasn’t enough? What if my past with Jason, the mess I’d been after and the walls I’d built ended up poisoning this before it had a chance to grow?

What if Leo realized one day that his mate wasn’t the bright, easy fit he’d imagined, but someone scarred and stubborn and set in his ways? What if I hurt him?

The thought made my throat tighten. I’d done enough damage in my life, to myself, and to people I cared about. I didn’t want Leo on that list.

A soft groan pulled me out of the spiral. Leo shifted again, his arm tightening around me before he buried his face against the back of my neck.

His voice was still thick with sleep when he mumbled, “You’re warm. Don’t move.”

A laugh caught in my throat before it could get out.

“You’re the one radiating heat like a furnace,” I muttered.

Leo made a sound halfway between a chuckle and a sleepy growl, and the vibration traveled through my back. “Guess that’s my bear,” he murmured.

We stayed like that for a long time, not speaking. The world outside could have been a million miles away.

Eventually, I rolled onto my back, and he shifted with me, blinking against the light until his gaze landed on my face.

“Morning,” he said.

His smile was slow and warm, the kind that felt like it was meant just for me.

“Morning,” I returned, voice soft.

Leo leaned in to kiss me, and it was nothing like last night’s urgency. This one was gentle, lingering, tasting faintly of sleep and something sweet I couldn’t name.

When he pulled back, his hand came up to cup my cheek. “You okay?”

The question hit me harder than I expected. He didn’t ask like he was looking for reassurance for himself. Leo asked like he genuinely wanted to know the truth.

I swallowed. “Yeah. I’m good,” I told him.

His eyes searched mine for a second longer, and then he smiled again. “Good.”

We spent the next while in that easy, morning haze. Tangled together, talking in low voices.

He told me about his sister coming into town this weekend, about Cassian giving him hell over what shirt to wear last night.

I told him about the old woman who came into the shop yesterday asking for books I hadn’t seen in print since the eighties.

Somewhere in there, he reached for my hand and didn’t let go.

It was ridiculous how much that small touch affected me. His fingers were warm and solid around mine, his thumb brushing absently along my skin as he talked.