by Anna Lowe
In the dream, she lay snoozing in one of those idyllic meadows, watching clouds slide slowly overhead. Snoozing and smiling because she’d just eaten her fill of berries and laughed until she was shaking at jokes and childhood stories and all kinds of silly things coming from a deep, husky voice very close to her ear. She’d never felt quite that content. Never been quite so amazed by the blueness of the sky or the blueness of a man’s eyes…
The subsection of her mind that had been monitoring the dream went on red alert. Man? What man? What blue eyes?
The dream plowed stubbornly, gloriously on, with the man at her side smiling at her in a way no man had ever smiled before. Possibly in a way he had never smiled before, because the way he looked at her said, of all the beautiful parts of that summer scene, she was the most perfect of them all.
Better than the berries, even, the man in the dream joked, stroking her cheek.
Not so sure, dream-her giggled while she cupped his stubbly cheek and traced his lower lip with one thumb.
Absolutely sure, he mumbled, pulling her into a kiss. A kiss as warm and glowing as noontime in the mountains in July.
God, it was a good dream. The kind she never wanted to wake up from.
Which was exactly the thought that prompted her eyes to snap open, because those were the kind of visions you got when dying of cold — or so she’d heard — when all the blood in your body rushed to your middle, giving the illusion of warmth. She blinked and wiggled her toes. All operational, which was a good sign. Her fingers clutched a blanket close to her face, and they were a healthy pink, not blue. She let out a long breath, then another, and neither showed as condensation in the cold air. Because it wasn’t that cold any more, she realized. It was warm. Perfectly, gorgeously warm. Like a bath drawn just right. Something crackled quietly on the other side of the den, and—
Wait a minute. Fingers? Blanket?
She stayed very, very still, trying to figure things out. Sometime in her sleep, she’d shifted back into human form. And sometime, the bear shifter — Simon — must have thrown a blanket over her and started that cheery little fire in a hearth backed into an alcove she hadn’t noticed before. Which he would have needed hands to do, which meant he had to have shifted into human form, too, which meant—
She gasped, realizing it was smooth, naked flesh she was spooned against and not bear fur any more.
“You cold?” he rumbled, snuggling her closer. His chest was a rocky slope that bottomed out to a bumpy landscape of abs laid out like so many moguls at the foot of a hill.
No, cold wasn’t the problem. Suddenly, she was very, very hot.
Mmm, her inner wolf yawned and stretched. Perfect way to wake up.
Jesus, she barely even knew this guy!
I know my mate, her wolf purred.
She rolled in spite of herself, coming face-to-face with her mystery bear, now in human form.
“Um, hi,” she managed, blinking at his hard, platelike pecs. Resting her hands against them for lack of space.
“Hi.”
Damn it, did the man specialize in deep, rumbly notes that touched every hidden corner of her soul? He could as well have reached over and massaged her arms between his big hands. Rubbed every one of her fingers and blown a few breaths to make her extra warm.
But he didn’t reach. He just lay there with one arm looped loosely over her side. Waiting. Looking. Breathing quietly.
She looked higher, holding her breath, and let her gaze wander over a chin thick with stubble, then glide over the baby-smooth skin of his cheeks. The bronze of his tan made the soft pink of his lips look extra rosy and soft and—
Kissable, her wolf supplied. Really, really kissable.
She pinched her lips together and clenched a fist before she did something crazy like reaching out and touching those lips.
A little spike of aroused bear scent drifted to her nose, and his eyes closed. Was he imagining that, too? How good it would feel to touch and to be touched?
The lines around his mouth suggested he spent more time smiling than smirking, and the crease marks in the corners of his eyes could have come from laughing or looking into the sun. Sandy brown hair curled around the edges of his ears, feathering this way and that, and—
He opened his eyes, and she held her breath. Such blue, blue eyes. Eyes like the summer sky, bottled and then released in this dim den. Eyes that earned their own definition of blue, they were that bright and that deep. Her heart beat a little faster, and his did, too. She could feel it under her hand.
Thump, it went as he stared at her.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His mouth opened. Closed. His nostrils flared and his cheek twitched.
Mate. Mate.
The voice that sent the words into her mind wasn’t her wolf’s, and it wasn’t the bear’s baritone. It was a deep, scratchy bass as ancient as the mountains. As solid as bedrock, as deep as the earth.
Mate, it told her. This is your mate.
There was an indulgent smile behind the voice — but a hint of sadness that scared her, too. What did destiny have in store for her if this was her mate?
The wind moaned outside, then rose to a screeching high. The fire flickered as a burning log shifted and fell. She shook her head a little and forced herself to breathe. She was just imagining things, right? It wasn’t destiny talking to her. Just the rise and fall of the wind.
The man’s eyes narrowed and swirled.
She stared and stammered and wondered what to say, what to do. God, it was like waking up to a shy morning-after without the benefit of the one-night stand.
“So…um…” She fished for something to say.
He raised one curved eyebrow. Might as well have turned her inner thermostat up at the same time, making her wolf yowl.
Told you he’d be cute, the wolf snickered.
She shook her head. Tousled, sandy hair. High, ruddy cheeks. Cute didn’t begin to describe that face or the solid plates of steel under her hands.
More like hot. Smoldering hot.
“Um…nice cave,” she said, trying to sound casual, like she woke up with a gorgeous stranger every day.
Not a stranger. Our mate, her wolf barked back.
She shook her head. That was just the wind.
He broke into a grin. “Stashed some supplies. You know, just in case.”
The panicked side of her mind wondered whether his supplies included any clothes for a guest caught off guard after an unintended shift. Her naughty side, however, fantasized about other things. Like chocolate syrup for him to lick off her nipples, maybe. Strawberries to dip in it, or maybe some honey…
His eyes widened.
Shit, shit, shit! Now whatever made her think of that?
Bad wolf! she scolded. Bad, bad wolf!
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he broke into a wide grin. “Chocolate syrup, huh?”
She moaned and thumped her head against his chest. “Tell me you didn’t hear that.”
“Um…I didn’t hear that,” he said. Then his bulky arms gathered her closer and he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “But maybe I thought it.”
She balled her hands against his chest and curled her toes, wishing the den weren’t filling with the scent of her desire.
“I barely know you,” she whispered, shaking her head. “How can I want you this much?”
His lips touched her ear this time. “Because I want you, too. Because you’re mine. And I’m yours.”
“That was just the wind,” she protested, ordering her ankle not to snake around his calf. It would be so, so easy to take this to the next level. She was already skin-to-skin with him, belly-to-belly. All she needed was to wrap her leg over his, scooch closer, and—
His lips tickled her ear. “Not the wind. Destiny.” He paused, letting the word run a few laps around her veins. Then he sighed. “Look… Jessica, right?”
Just hearing her name roll off his tongue made her want to let her hands explore the rest o
f his bulk.
“See? I barely know you.” She decided to try out his name, and damn it, it felt so nice, so natural on her tongue. “Simon.”
His chest swelled as he nosed along her throat. “So let me get to know you, little wolf.”
She meant to slap his chest, but the motion was more of a light pat. “I’m not little.”
He popped his head up and his eyes sparkled like the sun playing over an azure lake, high in the mountains.
“If I called you big, you’d probably slap me.”
She had just slapped him. Sort of. Kind of. Almost.
“Look, Jess, why fight this?”
Jess. They were already on to nicknames. Jesus, she was a goner.
“This, what?” she asked, although she knew all too well.
“This pull. This need. This.” He waved in the tiny space between their chests, then leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Destiny.”
“Because…because…” She racked her mind for some good reason. Hell, any reason, good or bad. She really, really, wasn’t ready to accept that this bear could be her mate.
Why not? her wolf snapped back. Picture a wolf you’d want more than this bear.
Her mind flitted desperately over the wolves in her pack. Tried to focus on the image of Will, the strapping he-wolf with the dark, brooding eyes and talented hands she’d let wind her up a few times. Or Crow, the big, Harley-riding shifter all the she-wolves dreamed of a night with. Or Ben, the sweet son of the carpenter, with a low, smooth voice…
But she couldn’t pull any of their faces into focus. Not the handsomest wolf in the pack, nor the kindest, nor the smartest, or the sweetest, or the fastest. All the flings, all the fun Friday nights she’d been happy to entertain her wolf with turned into muddy memories the second she’d seen her mate.
Mate. She blinked at Simon and held her breath. Mate?
Her wolf nodded a thousand times. All we want is him. All we need is him.
But what about bears being unpredictable, unreliable, and uncouth?
Has he been any of those things?
It was her wolf talking, but it was his clear blue eyes, locked on hers, doing the convincing.
“But…but…” she protested. “You’re a bear, and I’m a wolf.”
He shook his head, curled a big hand around hers, and gave it a squeeze. “Not right now, we’re not. I’m a man…”
…a really, really hot man, her subconscious supplied.
“…and you’re a woman…” he continued.
…a woman who is really, really warm in all the right places, her wolf snickered in her ear.
“So what’s to stop us?” he finished.
The push-pull of her inner struggle made her body tremble against his. Her wolf wanted sex, hard and fast. That’s how wolves operated: they were instinctive, impulsive creatures, consequences be damned. But her human side wavered. If this bear truly was her mate, sleeping with him meant more than the act of sex. It would be the first step toward a lifelong bond. A huge commitment. A responsibility. And a dilemma, because how would they ever make it work?
“Hey,” he whispered softly. “How about we start over again?”
“Like how?” she muttered hopelessly. Her stomach twisted into knots, her mind torn in a thousand different directions.
“Like this.” His body was taut with restraint, and his face twitched with his own inner battle. His only movement was to slowly, gently guide her around until she was spooned against him again, her back to his front. He looped an arm around her waist and knotted his fingers through hers at a neutral spot near her belly. “Here. Right here. You decide.”
Shit. A blustery, conceited brute would be so easy to reject. Why did destiny have to bring her this big, sweet teddy bear?
“Nothing you don’t want,” he whispered, stroking her fingers with his.
She could have moaned. Nothing, huh? She felt nothing but a thumping need now, a syrupy pulse in her veins.
“And what if I want?” she heard herself whispering back.
“Then I’ll give,” he answered without hesitation. “And give and give until you have everything you want. Everything you need.”
Jessica dipped her chin against her chest and squeezed her fingers around his. Maybe she was still dreaming. Maybe she was dying. Maybe it just felt like heaven, here in his arms.
“Everything?” she whispered, taking his hands in hers.
His lips tickled her ear with the reply. “Everything.”
Chapter Five
Breathe in, breathe out, Simon told himself. Breathe in, breathe out.
But breathing calmly was as impossible as keeping his hands off this woman. His heart rattled like a steam train about to jump its tracks. Sparks zipped around his body like it was a goddamn pinball machine, hitting every bell, lighting every light along the way. His blood rushed, and his soul sang.
Mate! Mate! Mate!
He might have been playing it cool on the outside, but inside, his bear was dancing and singing like a drunk.
Which was crazy, because it wasn’t as if his bear had been waiting for this moment for all its life. He’d been perfectly happy just being him. A happy bachelor, busy enough doing his own thing. If anything, he’d always been relieved not to have found a mate yet, because he didn’t need a mate at this point in his life.
Except, suddenly, he did. He needed her as much as he needed his next breath. Craved her. Thirsted for her, like he really had been waiting his whole life for this moment and just didn’t know it.
And Christ, now he knew. The question was, did she?
He’d seen her eyes go wide. Heard her breath catch the same moment his did. Felt her body nestle against his, seeking more than just warmth.
But she’d wavered a second later. Those gray-blue eyes blinked at him like he was a stranger and not a long-lost friend. She’d turned her back and gone all quiet again.
So maybe she didn’t know. Maybe she didn’t feel.
His bear gave a mournful cry, praying it wasn’t true.
He closed his eyes, trying to figure out what to do. Jesus, if he screwed this up now, he’d be damned for the rest of his life. Lonely. Bitter. Alone.
Without thinking, he hugged her tighter and just about cheered when her fingers played over his in response. Caressing, not resisting. She sighed a little and settled against him.
Mate trusts me. Wants me. His inner bear glowed.
He edged carefully closer. Slowly, gently, he let his thumb stroke her belly, telling himself the ball was in her court. Whatever she wanted, he’d give her. No more, no less.
But God, did he hope for more, not less.
For a long time, she didn’t do anything but lay quietly at his side. Which was all right, too. She could snooze a little longer if she wanted. He’d keep her warm and safe and feel her chest slowly rise and fall with each breath. If she wanted to talk, okay, he could try that, too. Bears weren’t big talkers, but they were good listeners, and he wanted to know everything about her. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. He’d listen and learn and start cobbling together some kind of plan on how they could make things work.
He stroked her skin a while longer. It was soft and smooth like her fur had been, and it had the same lean layer of muscle underneath. A layer that rippled slightly as she shifted under his arm. She curled her fingers around his and repositioned his hand. A little higher, where he could trace the next slanting line of muscle over her ribs.
She moved his hand higher still, where the muscle receded under flesh that felt softer. Fuller. Rounder.
He closed his eyes, praying it was her pulling his hand to her breast and not his bear getting carried away. He could see it now: the horrified look she’d turn on him. The stinging slap. The screech of protest. So he stayed extra, extra still, making sure it really was her and not him.
The only sound his keen ears caught, though, was a satisfied hum.
“Hmm,” she said. “Nice.”
He slid his fingers
along the side of her breast and cupped it gently in his big hand. A perfect fit, like the rest of her.
Her foot shifted, rubbing against his leg, and half the blood pulsing in his veins detoured to his cock.
“Nice,” he mumbled, just for the excuse to let his lips taste her skin. Her shoulders were strong and supple from all that loping around she must do on all fours. A she-wolf caught out in a blizzard wasn’t the type to sit around at home, after all. She had to be the type who sought air and space and sky and didn’t let anything stop her. Not the weather, not the woods, not even a strange bear.
His bear chuffed a little. Mate. My mate. Damn, did destiny do good.
He couldn’t help nuzzling her shoulder, scraping his chin slowly, deliciously over her cheek in long, possessive strokes.
She closed a hand around his, and for a second, he thought she’d push him away.
“Nothing you don’t want,” he whispered.
She pressed his hand closer. “What if I want more?”
“More? I can do more,” he said, trying not to sound too eager.
Her foot wound between his legs; her perfect bump of a rear nestled closer to his groin.
“A lot more,” she whispered.
His bear surged forward. I’ll give her more.
He clenched his teeth and pushed the beast down in his mind. Much as he wanted to hear her sing, cry, and beg for more, he’d better take it slow.
“Like this?” he swept a thumb over her nipple, and she arched into his body.
“Just like that.” Her voice was a husky whisper. Almost a plea.
He did it again, making her nipple peak and harden. A lot like his dick, prodding her perfect ass. Not that she seemed to mind; she backed into him and hummed louder.
“Just like that.”
So he strummed the tight button of her nipple with his callused thumb, kneaded the soft flesh around it, and worked her in a circular motion. Switched from one side to another until she was breathless and wiggling around. She rolled and stretched, offering him more, which he took in ever greedier licks and nips and growls. He took and took and took until he was just as wound up as she seemed to be. Just as drunk on desire.
