Page 12 of Bear with Me

“I want to.”

She shook her head. He wanted her. He wanted to stay with her. None of it made any sense.

“I’m going to take a shower. Thanks for the clothes.”

She stood, swaying a bit before she got her feet under her. Brock was there instantly, his big hands steadying her, touching her, making her feel things she had no business feeling. Especially when she wasn’t at her best, mentally, physically, or emotionally.

“We can take a shower, if you want, but I’d suggest my bathroom. It’s bigger and will accommodate us better.”

She glanced up at him. “What?”

“It’s roomier than the one here.” He nodded toward the bathroom door where he’d carried her earlier.

“I’m showering. Me not we,” she emphasized.

“You’re not getting into the shower by yourself when you’re still unsteady on your feet. You’re exhausted, but I understand wanting to get cleaned up. You’ll feel better and probably sleep better when you’re clean and have something on your stomach. You can throw on what I brought then I’ll carry you back to the lodge. We’ll shower, then you can stay in bed while I make us something to eat.”

“I’m not showering with you, and I’m definitely not sleeping with you.”

“Pick a room, Jemma, but know this. Wherever you are, I’m there, too. I’m done denying what we both know is true.”

“How great for you,” she sneered. “You do you, Brock. And I’ll do me. As far away from you as I can get.”

He shook his head, a grin tugging at one side of his lips.

“Your temper turns me on.”

Her gaze dropped between his thighs, and she fought to keep a moan inside. Damn, he was big all over. She seen, but she was desperate to touch, to taste, to rub her scent all over him and mark her territory as her bear demanded. She no longer felt the urgency of her animal side, though. It was silent, and the woman was more insecure.

“We’re not mates.”

His gaze narrowed on her face before skimming down to her toes then back up. Nudity was nothing when you were a shifter, but the way he looked at her made it feel as if he were touching her. Her sex grew damp, and her nipples turned to turgid points that could probably cut glass. He inhaled, and a rumble rolled through his chest.

“We are.”

He opened the bag, grabbed another of his large T-shirts, then dropped it over her head. She wiggled into it, not because she wanted the warmth and scent of him on her, but so she could hide the effect he was having on her. The material covered her almost to her knees when she straightened. Then he scooped her up and held her high against his chest.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

“Taking you where I can keep an eye on you. We’re done running, Jemma. We’re done arguing and fighting this pull between us. We’re going to shower, eat, sleep, then when you’re better rested, we’re going to talk.”

“I don’t want—”

He cut her off by leaning down and taking her mouth with his. His lips were soft against hers, his tongue wicked as it swept inside her mouth to taste and explore. She moaned, lifting one arm around his neck while the other brushed over his broad chest. It was her first kiss. Ever. There’d never been anyone before him, and the way he consumed her, she’d never want any other after him. She tried to follow his mouth as he eased back from her lips. She didn’t want the kiss to end.

“Easy,” he whispered.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she muttered even as she rubbed her nose against his neck, scenting him, and rubbing hers into his skin.

“You are.”

She huffed. “I’m not having sex with you.”

He chuckled. “Tell me your tight, little pussy isn’t dripping with the need to feel me inside you.”

She made a completely embarrassing noise somewhere between a whimper and a growl. He was right, and they both knew it.

“Brock.”

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