Page 31 of Her UnBearable Protector

As she said the words, she saw his eyes narrow on her, the expression so familiar she felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh, Salvatore, I can't believe it's you! But those eyes,” she laughed and leaned forward until her forehead touch the bear’s sloping brow, “it’s you inside.”

She felt him lean closer, it was only a gentle pressure when he could so easily crush her. Sliding her hands into the thick fur at his neck, she pulled him closer.

Turning her head to the side, she drew in a long breath and sighed. She didn't know what she expected him to smell like, but her senses were filled with the mountains and grass and meadows brimming with wildflowers. She could almost smell the sun on her face.

She felt heat trace her skin, warming her inside and out to a fever pitch. She didn't just tremble with him in her arms.

She burned.

He groaned, a sound that was mostly human, and Natale felt his skin under her hands, the pressure of his lips against the column of her throat.

Her eyes opened on a gasp and she found herself looking at Salvatore, human and perfectly naked. That was the moment she developed a new appreciation for the medium of sculpting. Staring at every gorgeous angle of his body and the stretch of skin over muscle, she ached to touch him again.

“Salvatore,” she reached out and hooked her hand around the back of his neck, tugging him closer, needing to feel his whole body against hers, “don’t make me wait any longer.”

* * *

He didn’t give in to her unspoken request. Salvatore wanted to cover her body with his, but he wasn’t ready to, not just yet. Turning his head, he tugged her hand away from his neck. He placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist and felt her body sigh against his lips.

Opening his mouth, he grazed her skin with his teeth, holding her securely as the muscles in her arm tightened and released. He turned his head and brushed the sensitive spot with the rough scratch of his beard.

“Oh,” she moved closer to the edge of the bed, leaning toward him, “that tickles.” And yet, she didn’t pull away, she moved closer.

Hooking his fingers into her waistband, he tugged her to the edge of the bed until her legs slid over the side, setting her feet on the floor. His hands reached for the buttons of her blouse, tugging at each in turn.

He saw Natale look down at his progress, blocking his view.

He grumbled under his breath, struggling with one of the army of tiny pearl-like buttons that had looked so lovely marching down the front of her blouse, but now only served to torture him. All he wanted to do, was remove them and her blouse as quickly as he could.

“Then do it,” he heard Natale’s breathless voice, felt it on his hands. When she looked up at him, he saw the bright fever in her eyes. “Do it, Salvatore.”

And he knew he had to, because she wanted it as much as he did. The buttons didn’t rip free of the fabric under his hands, just the fabric, and the scream-like sound of silk splitting in two had them both breathless.

He reached for the clasp of her bra and she pulled way, reaching for the light on the table, her fingers almost touching the cord dangling from the stand. “No, Natale.”

She stopped moving and looked up at him with an entreaty in her eyes. “Please, let me-”

“I want to see you.”

Natale hesitated. “I don’t want you to see me. I don’t want you to regret-”

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he promised her. “You never have to.”

He heard the words in her head, just as if she'd spoken them aloud. There were many people in the world, too many of them, who didn't understand real beauty. They looked for a narrow slice of nature and ignored the true loveliness that surrounded them. Certainly not the beauty right before their eyes if they didn’t see Natale’s true worth.

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

She moved her hand away from the lamp, but didn’t set it down. Instead, she took hold of the clasp at the front of her bra and with a twist of her fingers opened it.

Natale looked up into his eyes as she rolled her shoulders back and let the straps of her bra slide down her arms, falling to the bed behind her. She tugged at her waistband, struggling to push her pants down over her hips while she was still seated, but he was more than happy to help.

“Here,” he tucked his fingers in her waistband and leaned forward, “lift up.” He gave her a smile, pleased that he hadn’t scared her away. She set her hands by her sides and lifted her hips from the bed.

A moment later he was peeling her pants down and dropping them on the floor at his feet.

He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and shook his head. “When you’re with me, Natale, the last thing you need to feel is hesitation. Tell me what you want.” He meant it. Whatever she wanted, he would find a way to give it to her.

She opened her lips to answer him and his body tensed, hardened, needed to touch her.

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