Page 12 of The (Maybe) Murderer Who Knocked Me Up

Should I answer him? I’d have to shift into my human form to do that, which would mean being naked under Slade’s bed. I know we’re going to see each other naked eventually, but I hadn’t planned on baring it all for him tonight.

Slade’s foot drops in front of me, mere inches from my snout. “Georgina?”

If he goes to get Georgina, then they both might return to his room to look for whatever woke him up. There are plenty of pests in this part of Texas. They might even mistake me for a regular raccoon and get Georgina’s glock. Her nephew likes to hunt the wild raccoons living around here. He used to hang the pelts in her backyard when we were kids. It was absolutely terrifying.

Before I can think better of it, I shift into my human form. The space under the bed becomes far too small, and I feel horribly exposed, even though Slade can’t see me yet.

“It’s me,” I say softly.

“Quin?” Slade’s other foot drops down. “Where are you?”

“Don’t look, but I’m underneath your bed.”

His knees lower to the ground. He must have missed the “don’t look” part.

“I’m naked! Don’t look!” I say a little too loudly. The last thing I need is for Georgina to come into his room because she overheard us talking.

“You’re naked? Underneath my bed?” Slade asks.

“Yes. I was in my raccoon form, but then you woke up, and I can’t talk in my raccoon form, so I shifted back. But I don’t have my clothes.”

He laughs. “What?” His knees lift and I watch his feet walk across the room. A white piece of fabric sails at my head. It takes me a second to realize it’s a shirt. A really big shirt.

“Put that on,” he says.

That’s easier said than done while hiding under a small twin bed. Getting it over my head isn’t too bad, but extending my arms out into the shirt holes requires me to twist and bend in uncomfortable ways. I finally pull the fabric over my body.

“Are you okay under there?” he asks.

I wriggle out from underneath his bed slowly. I’m lying on the floor, holding the hem of his shirt to my knees, when the light flips on. I shield my eyes, not ready for the blinding light.

His muscular body is naked except for the sheet he has clutched around his waist. His entire chest and right leg are exposed. I’ve always been a bit overwhelmed by him, but at this angle, I see the hard lines of his muscle in a different way. He isn’t just big, he’s beautiful. Chiseled, even. Like a god sculpted him from marble. I’ve always liked his tattoos. I thought they made him look older, and like a bad boy, if I’m honest. But when I actually look at the images themselves, they’re a layered work of art. His right arm has the outline of flowers carefully shaded with just black. His left arm is covered with symbols I don’t know the meaning of, but I recognize them. The grizzly shifters in our area wear jewelry with beads that have those symbols.

He stays completely still as I stare at him. I glance up at his face to see shock etched in his features.

“Quin, I…” he trails off, and shakes his head. “You’re…” he tries again, but the words still don’t come. He steps closer to me and crouches down, hovering over me. The light frames his head like some kind of angel.

I should tell him what I’ve done. If I explained how raccoon shifter bonding works, he wouldn’t need to be confused. But he doesn’t seem happy—he seems distressed. Have I made a mistake?

“I thought you liked me,” I say.

“I do. But like I said, I’m no good for you.”

That’s when I understand. Even the primal pull of a fated mate isn’t enough to convince Slade to touch me. Not because he doesn’t want me. He must. But because he thinks he doesn’t deserve me, and that insecurity is bigger than love–bigger than anything in his heart.

That won’t do. Not if we’re going to live happily ever after. I sit up, bringing our bodies closer. He stares back into my eyes with this tortured expression, like wanting me is the worst thing in the world.

“Don’t you think I should get to decide what’s good for me?” I place my hand on his chest where my paw was only moments earlier. He takes in a sharp breath the moment I touch him. That breath comes out ragged as I trail my fingers down his torso, stopping once I reach the place where he’s clutching the sheet around his body.

“I’ll want you more than once,” he warns me. “I like you too much.”

I smile up at him. “Good.”

He drops the sheet and his body surrounds me. His huge arms wrap around my shoulders, and his face descends. His mouth claims mine with a ferocity that’s far more than a kiss. I melt into him, my lips opening as he shoves his tongue in my mouth. It’s like surrendering to lightning. My whole body is on fire as he molds our mouths together, our teeth clacking from the force of his strength.

The rightness of the kiss is undeniable. Our connection is like a form of home. Not a sound or a scent, but a sensation of belonging so deep, I’ve never felt anything like it before. This is bigger than the connection I have with my brothers. It’s more demanding, too. I feel like I’ll die if Slade doesn’t fill me up and make me whole.

I kiss him back, running my fingers over the smooth planes and hard edges of his torso. The sensation of his body hair alongmy fingertips is almost as good as the heat of his mouth, as it travels across my jaw and to my ear. The skin there is wildly sensitive. Especially when he bites my earlobe.

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