Page 37 of Bear's Rejected Love

She could still look at him like she could when they were young, and her soul was unmarked and his was already well scarred from the loss of his parents.

Tabitha’s hand trailed away from his palm, up his arm, over his shoulder, and stopped at his hammering pulse. She held his jaw, his chin, his lifeline in her palm. “No,” she whispered again, and maybe he couldn’t take hearing that word another time, maybe it was too raw, and his heart was already ripped to shreds and bloody particles, or maybe he just had to kiss her.

She’d given him forgiveness he didn’t deserve.

She’d given him hope he didn’t deserve.

She’d once given him a life and a promise that he had no right to ask for.

He had no right to kiss her now, but she tilted her face and she leaned into him, arching her body to be closer, and she met his lips in hot, hungry absolution.

Chapter 15

Tabitha

She wasn’t sure if Roan had a breaking point, but underneath the scalding heat of the kiss, she could feel his desperation. His hands threaded through her hair like a plea, begging her not to pull away. She wasn’t going to. She twisted hers around his neck and held on. She’d pushed him not to see how far he could go, but because he needed to be pushed. He needed to hear every single thing she’d said. She just wished she could have said it twenty years ago when he lived with them. Fifteen, before he left. She wished she could have found him sooner and made him see.

He kissed her like he did see. He kissed her like he could see all the way down into her soul and he knew how much she wanted him.

He let her come up for air, but only because his lungs must have been screaming too. She looked over his shoulder at the bright sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, making dappled patterns on the hardwood floors.

“The dumbest thing I ever did was leave you.”

She raked her eyes back to him, up the hollow of his throat, up over his solid jaw, to his pale blue eyes. They were dappled too, with shadows and emotions, with the past and the present. “I fully agree with that.”

He took one deep breath and then surged forward, using it to revitalize his lungs so that he could kiss her deeply. He banded his hands around her waist and hauled her up, backing her out of the room. His was around the corner. It was roughly the same size as the girls’, and there was a smaller third bedroom that would eventually be Honor’s when he was a little bit older.

The room, even fresh and clean and new, still felt like his. The queen bed in there with the fresh flannel plaid sheets that he’d already made up, came into view when she turned her head. It felt monumental, that bed, like a life changing decision. She didn’t realize she’d let out a gasp until Roan froze.

He tried to lower her down, but she curled her nails into his shoulders and shook her head. She wasn’t going to allow him to misinterpret that tiny intake of air. “I’ve always wanted you. I never really allowed myself because we were always just supposed to be friends, but it was there for me, waiting for you. Then, that night and… I still want you.”

“I don’t look the same.” He stared over her shoulder, seeing nothing. “Physically.”

“You’re always going to be the most beautiful man in the world to me.”

She took his face and kissed him again, sweeping her tongue into his mouth and tasting him. He didn’t taste the same either, but some of the same notes were there. He’d never worn cologne, and he’d changed his laundry soap. But the base notes? They were still the same. Nothing artificial. No fake woods or dark fruits. Not leather or wool. Just him and the air still clinging to his hair and skin, the wider world leaving its mark, but as a caress.

She buried her nose at the collar of his plaid shirt. She’d been doing everyone’s laundry and he smelled like her soap. Like the dryer sheets she so often used. It felt like the smallest, most insignificant claim on him. It felt like intimacy, being able to say that she’d washed that shirt, hung it outside to dry, tossed it in the dryer for a few minutes after to keep it soft.

He walked her over to the bed and sat down with her on his lap. He didn’t put her below him or hover over her, larger and more dominant. He let her straddle him, let her set the pace of the kiss. She chose furiously hard and hungry for that, dipping her tongue into his mouth and tasting him again. He kept his hands on the sheets, splayed out behind him, instead of on her.

She wanted them on her.

She stripped off her shirt, looking him in the face. He had far too much control. He kept his eyes trained on hers, even when she slowly started to undo her bra. She watched his hands and noted the way his fingers trembled, like they wanted to lift off the bed and touch her. She wouldn’t tell him to. She’d just keep going, keep getting naked, and then if he needed more encouragement, she’d get down on her knees and beg if that’s what it took.

He did make a noise when her bra fell away.

He made another one when she unbuttoned her jeans. She was still straddling him, and she had to slip away if she wanted to take them off. She did, standing in the sunlight coming in through the crack in the slits in the blinds. His room faced towards the woods and even though the blinds weren’t closed, they were still guaranteed privacy.

She unzipped her jeans and slid out of them. They were an old pair, looser and baggier than she normally wore, but perfect for getting dirty or damaged setting up a cabin.

Which they currently weren’t doing now, so really, she didn’t need them.

Roan made another low noise in his throat again. She crawled back over him. He did need some encouragement, but not begging. His hands were basically shaking now. He was vibrating too, trying to hold himself still. Trying to hold himself together.

She started unbuttoning his shirt. Started with the top one, at the hollow of his throat. She hadn’t laundered it and imagined stripping him out of it.

She never allowed herself to go there in her mind because it felt wrong. It felt like a violation of what he wanted. Before, it felt like she’d be going against her word, against the bounds of friendship that she’d promised. She never allowed herself to fully want him all the way. Never gave herself permission. Her body might not have listened to her head, but in her brain, she had thing set straight. She was honest with herself. She didn’t allow herself to think about that night when things had transgressed those boundaries and shattered those borders. The one night they’d shared before he left. She couldn’t dwell on it because it was torture. She couldn’t allow herself to hope because that felt all wrong. She’d tried very hard to maintain control over herself.

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