Page 38 of Bear's Rejected Love

She lowered her guard and let all the memories flood back. Let everything she wanted come to the forefront. All the things she wanted to do to this man. All the place she wanted to touch him, to memorize him, to taste him.

Her breath got trapped in her lungs as she undid another button and another.

She’d been so heated in the woods that her bear hadn’t even noticed when they’d stood nearly toe to toe, neither of them wearing clothing. After, Roan shifted. They’d gone straight to her house so she could change, and he’d stayed in the woods while she got a borrowed set of clothing for him, procured by Tavish. It was also dark the whole time. She hadn’t seen anything.

Her lungs squeezed when the shirt came fully unbuttoned, and she pushed the fabric aside. Roan had always been ridiculously carved out. He was all sinew and muscle, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. The layer—and it was a layer, almost like a second skin—of scars that covered his body didn’t repel her. They only made her sad. They told a story that he’d rather forget. The physical marks of that lab remained.

She swallowed back her rage and sorrow. The last thing he’d ever want was pity and the last thing he needed was more anger. She didn’t know what to say, so she ran a finger over one long line that trailed down his side. They were made with surgical precision. They weren’t messy like the scars a lot of shifters had from fights. He had another one on his left pec, that one a jagged, puckered line from a claw that caught him in a mock bear fight when he’d first learned how to shift. Her brother was the one to put it there. It had been an accident, that drawing of blood, but the scar remained. She’d traced it the first and last time she’d ever touched his body.

He made a sound like he was in pain, but she knew that it wasn’t physical. She was bold enough to trace another scar, to flatten her palm against a collection. They ran up and down his arms. For everything those doctors gave Roan, they’d taken parts of him away. Literally chunks of his flesh. She had no idea how he could have lived through that pain, but he had. He’d endured it. He’d survived. He’d come out from that lab with what shouldn’t even be possible living in his body.

“We’re more than just a host for our bear, you know,” she whispered, stroking another white line near his belly button. His jeans dipped low, showing off his sculpted V. He wasn’t self-conscious about the scars, she knew. They were just the aftermath. “You’re more than just the housing for all those creatures. Did you ever think that they’re alive because of you? We give our bears life by existing. You give all those animals life. I know you never wanted them, but you’ve given them a reason to exist.”

He clearly wanted her to stop talking because he hooked a finger in her panties and tugged. He wasn’t gentle and they were cotton. They didn’t give. He pulled harder and then he lost his patience, took them in both of his strong hands and ripped.

She let out a shocked cry, that turned into more of a moan. A pleased moan because Roan immediately cupped her sex and dipped his finger between her lips, circling her clit.

“You’re so wet.”

“I know.” Her body craved his touch, was prepared for more than what he was doing now.

She was naked before him, probably not as he remembered. A decade and a half and one baby later. She wasn’t ashamed of the changes that motherhood had given her. She knew that her butt wasn’t perfect, that her breasts weren’t as pert as they’d once been. The little things didn’t bother her. She was healthy and she was strong. She was proud that her body had given her son life and nurtured him.

Her eyes flicked to Roan’s face, and she could just tell by his expression that he thought she was beautiful. It was a mix of carnal want and hunger, but that hunger was soft. The desire might be rough, but he’d hold himself back.

He circled her clit and her head fell back. He ran his other hand up her hip, up to her breast. He wasn’t gentle when he pinched her nipple. She gasped again as the chill of that pinch shot up and down her spine. He took her other nipple into his mouth, biting down at the end. She expected it, but she still gasped. She cried out again as his tongue soothed the sting, kissing her breast. His mouth was wet and hot. He kissed her collarbone and her shoulder, scraping his teeth over the rounded curve of her upper arm.

She moaned and arched into him as he used his fingers, teasing her, dragging them through her wetness to soak her. He thumbed her clit at the end of each pass until she was trembling. Not just her belly and her hands, but until her thighs were literally quaking. She kept arching forward, rocking into his hand, forcing him to make contact where she needed it most.

“There’s more than one monster inside of me,” he tried again, whispering near her ear. Tried to scare her off.

She wasn’t budging. “You’re wrong about them. You’re wrong about yourself too.”

She leaned forward and bit his shoulder. She wasn’t gentle about it, but all he did was groan and press down on her clit with more force.

“More,” she begged, licking the spot with her tongue. She licked his neck, savoring the taste of his skin. Her finger traced one of the scars on his arm. “I want more.”

He slipped two fingers inside of her. There had never been anyone but him, and in fifteen years, she’d never touched herself that way. Hardly at all, if she was honest, but only ever her clit. She’d done it fast, forcing her mind away from him because thinking about him and pleasuring herself just felt wrong and inauthentic.

She’d only ever wanted the real thing.

Her own hand, touching her own body might be fine, but it was never him.

It was never what she craved.

She looked up at him when he moved his fingers, thrusting them and hooking them at the end. Thrusting again. Filling her, still circling her clit. Her hips moved with him, chasing and writhing and begging silently for more. She watched him and he kept his eyes open too, watching her right back. They were silent as she took his fingers, took the pleasure he offered.

She didn’t tell him when she was going to come. He could tell by the way her walls closed around him. She didn’t shut her eyes. She watched him then too, as the pleasure bloomed through her. She clutched his shoulders and rode it out, never taking her eyes off him. He didn’t blink. She didn’t either. She shuddered around him, her body coming apart in silent, wordless praise and wonder. She watched his own response, watched his eyes darken to a deep blue, watched the way his lips parted.

She moved before she was coming down, pulling away even though it hurt. She took his fingers and brought them to her mouth, tasting herself on them. His eyes widened and flared and when she released them and guided them to his lips, he made a surprised sound and looked half like he was going to die.

She undid his jeans. Slid the zipper down. Pulled and tugged until they were out of the way, with his boxers.

He watched her the whole time. His hands bracketed her hips as she took him out of his boxers. He was huge and so hard, the tip of him glistening.

She straddled him, guiding him to her. One hand swept her hair away and curled around the back of her neck. It felt very much like something a mate would do. It felt possessive, like she was being claimed. He stopped at her entrance, his fingers bracing on her neck.

“You could get pregnant.”

---