Page 13 of Bear with Me

“Don’t get scared on me now,” he ordered.

“I’m not.” But she was. How would she ever survive if he took her then walked away from her again?

“I promise you this, Jemma. I won’t fuck you until you beg me to, and even then, I’ll wait until we say our vows.”

“I’ll never beg.”

His gaze held a predatory hunger she felt deep in her womb.

“You’ll beg,” he vowed. “And when I take you, when I fill you up, you’ll scream my name, so that the heavens themselves know who you belong to.”

Chapter Six

Brock carried Jemma into the house, avoiding everyone as best as he could and ignoring any who called out. He wanted her in his room, in his bed, with her naked body pressed tight against his skin. He wanted to be her blanket, her pillow, and anything and everything she needed. He saw the distrust in her gaze. It was nothing less than he deserved. Now, it was up to him to earn her confidence. To show her and her bear he was a mate who’d treasure and protect her. Always.

He carried her into his room, knocking the door shut with his hip. Jemma held tight to his shoulders but didn’t say a word as he walked into the adjoining bathroom. He sat her on the counter then turned, opened the glass door and turned on the water.

“Do you have three showerheads?” Jemma asked.

Brock turned back to her, grabbing a fistful of material between his shoulders and tugging the shirt over his head before dropping it to the ground. He nodded as he toed off his shoes and kicked them aside before reaching down and pulling off his socks. He glanced up as he reached for his belt and grinned at the hunger in his little mate’s gaze.

“More than that,” he said, taking his time with opening his jeans. “You’ll see when you step in. The rain head and two others are on now, but there are more.”

He glanced up as he spread the material wide and shoved it down his thighs. His shaft bobbed up, long and thick as it pointed toward her.

“I can shower by myself, Brock.”

She forced her gaze up to meet his, and her cheeks flushed at him catching her staring at him. Hell, she could look all she wanted. Touch, too. On second thought, maybe touching was a bad idea. Especially since he was waiting for her to beg and give him her vows before he took her virginity.

“I’ll shower with you.”

He gripped the shirt he’d dressed her in and eased it up over her head. She lifted her hands, allowing him to remove it and toss it onto the pile on the floor. Then he grasped her waist and helped her to stand. With a hand on the curve of her ass, he guided her to the shower.

She moaned as she stepped inside and the hot water hit her. He damn near came then, barely managing to get control as he reached around for the bodywash and loofah he’d placed in the enclosure when he’d been here earlier. He’d wanted everything perfect for when he brought her back to his room. Now, he squeezed some of the vanilla-scented wash onto the wet material and ran it over her shoulders.

She was tense at first, but he took his time, moving along her spine, skipping over her injured side, then squatting behind her to wash her ass and legs.

“Turn around.” His voice was husky as he fought the need to lift her against the wall and fuck her until she couldn’t take anymore.

He heard her blow out a breath before she did as he asked. He started at her feet, lifting them one at a time to rest on his thigh as he cleaned them for her. Then he made his way up her legs. The loofah was lost somewhere on the shower floor as he used his hands to rub the bubbly soap over her skin. When he got to the inside of her thighs, he pressed, urging her to widen her stance for him. With a shuddering breath, she did. He forced himself to be quick when he wanted to linger. He stroked her folds, brushed his thumb over the swollen nub of her clit, and swept his fingers back and forth over her opening, teasing them both with the idea of dipping inside and seeing just how tight she’d be around him.

“Brock.” Her hands found his shoulders, and when he glanced up, it was to the perfect view of her rosy nipples, rock hard and practically begging for him to suck them. Her head was thrown back, her throat working as she panted.

He eased his hands higher, stroking over her stomach, then standing as he poured more wash into his palms and cupped her breasts. He ran his thumbs over her nipples, her moans almost destroying the tight leash he held on himself. He forced his hands elsewhere, taking each arm in turn and washing from shoulder to fingertips before dropping them and turning her until she faced the water again. This time, he took the shampoo and worked it through the long, dark tresses he loved. Jemma had beautiful hair. Dark as the midnight sky, falling to the middle of her back in long, thick curls. It complemented her big blue eyes perfectly.

“That feels good,” she moaned, leaning her head back. He didn’t deny himself the need to drop his lips to hers. Soft. Chaste. Without the depth and possession he craved, with her wet and naked before him.

“Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

Jemma’s eyes popped open, and she gave him a considering look.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“How long this new Brock will last.”

He laughed. “I’m still an asshole, which I’m sure you’ll remind me of often. But I’m your asshole.”

She shook her head, and her brows puckered.

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