Page 13 of Bearly Mated

“My roommate—and that’s none of your business. Regardless of what you told yourself when you avoided me, I lost my best friend when I went to college. You don’t get to know those things.”

“For now,” he growled.

“Ever,” I shot back. “And I’m still not sure I believe that you’re attracted to me, so?—”

He pulled me across his lap, until I was sitting on his cock.

His verybig, veryhardcock.

I couldn’t help the way my hips moved just a little, positioning him exactly where I wanted him.

“Do you want to know how many women I’ve dated, and been with?” he asked me, those gorgeous green eyes hot.

“No,” I said without question.

He leaned in and brushed a kiss to my throat. My traitorous head tipped to the side, my eyes closing as he sucked lightly.

I shifted slowly over his erection as he made his way up my neck until he nibbled on my ear, then teased my three lobe piercings with his tongue. “These are new. You didn’t tell me about them.”

“I didn’t tell you about a lot of things.”

“That’s going to change.” He bit down on my earlobe lightly. “And Callie?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never been withanyone.”

My lips parted, and he kissed them.

Kissedme.

Slower, this time. More intimately. There was no desperation behind it. Just desire.

And even though I knew I should push him away, I kissed him back.

My hands moved over his biceps as we kissed, and kissed, and kissed. I pulled away long enough to breathe, “These muscles are new.”

“Not new. Bigger. The gym was a good distraction when I wanted to track you down. And I always wanted to track you down” He dragged my lips back to his, and we got lost in the kiss for a few more minutes.

My hands moved down his pecs, pressing into the muscles when they flexed for me. I slid my fingers down the thick ridges of his abdomen, feeling every dip, swell, and crease. “Love these,” I panted, pulling away again.

He tugged his shirt over his head, exposing his gorgeous torso for me. “They’re yours, Cal.”

With that, he recaptured my mouth.

The way his grip tightened on my hips again and again told me he was fighting the need to touch more of me. And despite knowing that he was going to leave me, that the thing between us could never be what I wanted, I needed his hands on my skin.

“You can touch me,” I said against his mouth. “If you want to. I?—”

His hands were beneath my shirt in a heartbeat, moving slowly over my bare abdomen and waist.

He throbbed hard beneath me, kissing me slower.

The way he touched me wasn’t needy, or desperate.

It was intimate.

Hot.

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