Page 54 of On Tap for the Bear
The ley lines pulse beneath us. Not frantic or demanding anymore. Gentle. Welcoming. Like the land is exhaling in relief.
Eli kisses me then, our hands still bound between us, and I taste salt and copper and promise. When we break apart, everyone is smiling.
"Welcome to the clan, Quinn," Sawyer says.
Beau grins. "Guess this means you're stuck with us now."
Anabeth pulls me into a hug that smells like vanilla and contentment. "I'm so glad you're staying."
"Me too," I whisper. "Me too."
Eli's A-frameis quiet when we arrive, the forest around us dark and peaceful. The bond hums between us, golden and warm, settled now that the ceremony is complete.
He unlocks the door, but before we can step inside, I stop him.
"Wait." My voice comes out lower than intended. "I need to say something."
"Okay."
"I want this. What happens next. But I need you to know I'm choosing it. Fully present. Completely sure." I meet his eyes in the moonlight. "No doubts. No reservations."
Understanding and heat fill his expression. "Good. Because I'm going to claim you properly now. The way I've wanted to since the moment you walked into my tavern."
Then his mouth is on mine, demanding and possessive, and heat floods through me. He backs me through the doorway, kicking it shut behind us, never breaking the kiss. His hands slide under my sweater, palms rough and warm against my skin, and I gasp into his mouth.
"Eli...”
"I've got you." His voice is rough, deeper than usual. "I'm going to worship every inch of you tonight."
My sweater hits the floor. Then his shirt. Our clothes are discarded. Skin against skin, finally, and the mate bond flares hot between us. I can feel his desire like it's my own—raw and hungry and barely controlled. My fingers trace the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of muscle, the raised line of an old scar along his ribs.
"Bedroom," I manage. "Now."
He sweeps me up, cradling me against his chest as he carries me toward the stairs. The bond lets me feel his restraint, the iron control he's exerting to stay gentle when every instinct is screaming at him to claim, to possess, to mark me as his.
"You don't have to hold back," I whisper against his neck. "I want all of you."
The growl that rumbles through his chest makes heat pool low in my belly. He carries me up to the loft, laying me on the bed with surprising gentleness, but there's nothing gentle about the way he looks at me—dark eyes tracking over my body like I'm something precious and wild he's been waiting his whole life to touch.
"You're sure?" His voice is strained. "Because once I start, Quinn, I'm not stopping until you're boneless and screaming my name."
"Promise?"
That breaks his control. He comes down over me, capturing my mouth in a kiss that's all teeth and tongue and claiming heat. There's nothing between us now but desire and the golden thread of the mate bond pulling us together.
His mouth trails down my neck, teeth scraping over the sensitive spot where shoulder meets throat. Not breaking skin—not yet—but the promise of it makes me shudder. Lower, to mycollarbone, my breast. When his mouth closes over my nipple, I arch off the bed with a cry.
"That's it," he murmurs against my skin. "Let me hear you."
His hands are everywhere—mapping my body, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me writhe. When his fingers slide between my thighs, finding me already wet and ready, he groans like he's the one being touched.
"So perfect," he breathes. "So ready for me."
Through the bond, I feel his pleasure at my response, feel how much my desire affects him. It's intoxicating, this feedback loop of want and need spiraling higher between us.
"Eli, please...”
"Not yet." His fingers work magic, building pressure until I'm trembling on the edge. "I want you desperate for me first."
