Page 43 of Choose the Bears

I didn’t get a chance to plead or beg, because there were other things in the forest. Birds, wallabies, even feral foxes.

And a fucking bear.

The sound of his roar was the only warning we got, reverberating throughout the entire forest. Birds threw themselves into the air, flapping wildly, while Phil just stared. His mouth went slack, his expression almost comical until my saviour arrived.

Did bears charge with all the might of a Mack truck in reality? I’d never know because they didn’t live in the Australian bush, but I did know that this one did. Not bushes, not trees would stop him as he came rampaging through the forest towards us. His white fur shone like the moon.

And so did his fangs.

This is how I die, my dream self thought, but I needn’t have worried. I was not the massive polar bear’s prey. Phil was. I caught the moment when my attacker’s eyes went wide, the shape of the bear reflected there, right before it attacked.

Screams, a body whipped back and forth with a violence unmatched, then a sickening snap had what remained of Phil going so very still. The bear deposited the body before him, then reared up on his hind paws, roaring his victory. My heart beat frantically, telling me that this was dangerous, that I needed to get the fuck out of here, but I didn’t.

Instead, I walked closer.

Because I’d never seen a polar bear in real life, I thought. Because he saved me. Because he was majestic, picking up the body and shaking his head again, as if to reassure himself and me that Phil was dead, before dropping it again. When I got closer, rather than seeing dark-brown eyes, I saw blue.

Familiar blue eyes.

With the logic of dreams, the bear melted away, revealing the man within. Asher stood before me in a familiar pose. Arms held slightly out from his body, every ab starkly defined as he sucked in one breath then another.

“Imogen…”

This time he said my name, and that had me moving closer. I ran now, not away from him, but towards the man who saved me.

I’d wanted to touch him back in the gym. I’d wanted to lay my hands all over the splendid, beautiful body of the man who picked up Phil like he was a doll and tossed him across the car park. Part of me wanted to just because Asher’s chest was a perfect picture of masculine strength and the other part felt he was like a fire that I could stand before, driving out the chill that seemed to have sunk into my bones. And part of me wanted to just because I knew it’d feel so damn good and it’d been way too long since I’d done something that selfish. In the safety of my dream, I could do just that, my hands landing on his pecs.

“Imogen…” I wanted him to keep saying my name like that, as if it was a prayer, an imprecation. “Imogen…”

But what we had to say to each other went beyond words. My hand whipped up and, for just a second, I gloried in the feel of his hair as I raked my fingers through it. Not for long. I tugged his head down and he came, which shocked me. No, more than that, because a man like this would never be content to take a passive role. His hands went around my waist as he jerked me against him.

“Imogen, I need?—”

“I know.”

Just like with Lucas, the kiss started gentle, just a little mingling of our panting breaths before we brushed against each other. Not enough, I felt that in the depths of my soul. He let out a terrible groan, like he needed me more than his next breath, no, like I was the air he needed to breathe. His grip tightened, that was the only warning I got, right before his mouth crashed down on mine.

I wasn’t in the forest anymore. I was right back in my bed in their headquarters and he was pressing me down into the soft mattress.

“Imogen.”

He sighed my name now as his mouth moved, tracing the slope of my neck, lingering when I shivered as he pressed his lips against the pulse point.

“Asher…”

“Imogen, you need?—”

“This,” I assured him, kissing him harder, faster.

He took my lead, kissing me back with teeth and tongue. Every part of me throbbed now, but not with pain and fear. With need, desire. Sexual attraction was like an old friend I hadn’t seen in so long I was afraid I never would again, and I welcomed it home with open arms, dragging it, and him, closer. When he settled between my legs, when I felt my joints strain to accommodate his size, then something long and hard pressed right where I needed.

“This…” I hissed, right as his hips began to rock.

He was giving me everything I needed, because that was the nature of dream lovers. They had an insight into what you wanted that no man could ever match. So he knew that his frantic rocking was driving me higher and higher, even as the blunt feeling grew more and more unsatisfactory.

“Asher—”

“I know.”

---