Page 20 of Bear to be Wild
“It’s okay,” I murmured, not sure what I was supposed to say. All I knew was that I wanted to resume the kiss.
She bit her lower lip. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
“What?” I asked, stupefied. “Why not?” It was the best thing that had happened to me since I’d stepped foot on this ship.
“Roan,” she declared with a tilt of her chin. “What we just did, we should not be doing. It was a little snafu. We need to be professionals.” Her voice hardened with determination.
Snafu? “Okay,” I agreed, though not at all convinced. If that was what she wanted to do, I’d have to go along with it.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” she muttered to herself as she paced away. “Kiss the bear. Why on earth would I kiss the bear? Everyone knows you don’tpoke the bear!”
I caught up with her. “What’s wrong with kissing the bear?” I shook my head. “Me.” I tapped my chest. “Me being the bear.”
More like sounding like an idiot. No wonder she thinks it was a mistake.
She turned to me, eyes wide. “It’s a terrible idea. We already have this major complication as it is.” She motioned back and forth between us.
I rolled one shoulder. “It didn’t feel wrong to me.” I took a step closer. “But very, very right.”
“Roan…” She raised her hands to her temples. “I have rules. Rules for a reason.”
“I know,” I said gently. “But I’m not any of those men from your past. I won’t hurt you.” I reached out and brushed her hand. “Give me a chance.” When she didn’t pull her hand away, I clasped her hand in mine. “Dinner.”
She blinked at me. “What?”
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “We don’t have a choice now, do we?”
“No, I don’t mean because of this bond.” I shook my head. “But a real date.”
“Roan.” Her protest softened to barely a whisper.
“Maribelle,” I insisted. “Just one dinner.”
She appraised me for a few hard seconds. “Okay, bear.” She raised her index finger. “One dinner.”
The dining roomblurred around me that night as I took her to a specialty Italian restaurant. The chatter surrounding us, the clinking of silverware, it was all background noise. All I couldthink about was being on the island earlier, the soft heat of Maribelle’s mouth against mine, and the vibrant sense of how right it felt when I’d kissed her.
Because she’s our mate, my bear pointed out. Again.
Now, across the table, she pushed a Caesar salad around her plate without eating much of it. Her silver curls caught the low light, her pale blue eyes guarded.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She put her fork down. “Just a little”—she paused and glanced around the room while appearing to search for the right word—“overwhelmed.”
I straightened in my chair. “By us? Being here together?”
She took a deep inhale before responding. “I don’t want to complicate things.”
I leaned forward and took her hand. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
She slanted her gaze. “How can it not be? We’re flippin’ anchored together because of my mess. Forced to sleep in the same room.”
Same bed, my brain added, but I kept it to myself.
“What if this attraction between us is just—a side effect of the spell?” she asked in a near-whisper.
