Page 62 of Chev's Mate

“Oh, no…” Chev says, clearing his throat. “I must have forgotten.”

He avoids eye contact, but when he finally does make it, I can see his acting clear as day. If there’s anything I’ve learned from my time with Chev, it’s that he’s a terrible liar.

“Did you miss me that much?” I tease. I was admittedly dreading having to spend an entire day without him.

Chev beams. “Yes, of course I did.” He pauses and paces the length of my room. “But I came here for a reason. I have a question. It’s been bothering me all week.”

I wouldn’t say I like the sound of that, and I lean against my headboard while waiting for him to explain. Chev continues to pace, his nervous actions only worsening my worry. Have I upset him? I’ve tried to be as upfront as possible regarding our relationship and what I can offer, but maybe I misconstrued something.

“Chev?” I urge.

The suspense is killing me.

He scuffs his foot along the ground before sucking in a slow breath and finally meeting my gaze. “Why haven’t you asked to see my bear?”

I blink. “What?”

Chev huffs. “I cleaned him for you days ago, but you haven’t asked once to see him.”

I blink again, and I struggle not to smile when he crosses his arms over his chest. His innocent look turns into a glare when he notices my reaction, but I can’t help it. Is he pouting?

I’ve seen him get frustrated with others several times, but never have I seen what it looks like when that emotion is directed toward me. His expression is a lot softer, and there’s an insecurity behind it he’s never had with anybody else, at least as far as I’m aware.

Do I make him nervous? Insecure?

The realization is baffling.

“I didn’t know I should have asked,” I admit. “I’d love to see your bear.”

Chev doesn’t move, and I crawl to the edge of the bed. He steps forward to meet me halfway, and I ignore the voice in the back of my head telling me to be scared as I rise to my knees and cup his cheeks. He shaved this morning, but his face is already stubbly. The hair tickles my palms, and I give his cheeks a light scratch in the way I know he likes.

Chev continues to pout as he tilts his head, causing my nails to graze the spot on the underside of his chin. I scratch the area before pulling him closer, silently asking for a kiss.

He’s happy to oblige.

“Please show me your bear,” I whisper against his lips.

When I pull away, all semblance of his frustration is gone.

Chev gestures for me to follow him, and I don’t hesitate to do precisely that. I never realized how important it was to see his bear, and while I’ve thought about it a few times, I feared it would be impolite to ask.

It seems that assumption was wrong.

Chev bounces down the stairs and out my back door, moving around my home like it’s his own. I don’t mind it. He knows my boundaries, and he’s never tried to push them. He’s patient and receptive, and he’s more attuned to my emotions than even I am at times.

I think he’s always paying attention, even when it doesn’t look so.

We step outside, and I wrap my arms around my torso. Wrath is unbearably hot, but the air has a surprising chill this morning. It’s crisp.

Chev begins removing his leathers, his nimble fingers untying his skirt and tossing it aside in record time. He’s facing away from me, and I scan his bare form before snapping my head back up when he turns around.

“You might want to spin around,” he warns. “People find this part gross.”

I can handle gross. I want to see everything, even the things he doesn’t think I’ll like. I’ve seen videos of shifters transforming between their animal and skin forms before, so I have an idea of what to expect. Chev’s bones will break and reform into the shape he’s taking, and either fur or skin will sprout and cover his body.

“I want to watch,” I say.

Chev looks wary, but after a moment, he shrugs and begins.

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