Her hands were shaking as she reached up and touched his face. She’d been dreaming about it for so long, she thought she knew what his skin felt like, but she’d been way off. Despite how rugged and chiseled his features were, his cheeks were soft and smooth above his whiskers.
He covered her hand with his, keeping it there, and touched her lips again in a whisper of a kiss. And another. And another. Until he reclaimed her mouth, more demanding this time, delving deeper, taking her rougher, and somehow, still tenderly. He kissed like the waves rolled in, smooth and even, then powerful and pervasive, only to ease up again. Just when she met his rhythm, he intensified his efforts. Every wave was stronger than the one before, and when she was so high on him she thought she might pass out, he breathed air into her lungs, taking her to another level of intimacy she never imagined possible. All in a single incredible kiss.
My Lord.
If he could turn her inside out with his kisses, what would he do when he touched her, when he made love to her?
How would she survive Bear Whiskey?
Panic began as a swirl in the pit of her stomach, and she fought against it, refusing to let it take hold. It had been years, not days, not months. Years since that awful attack. She’d done all the right things. She’d reinvented herself, gone to therapy every fucking week. She’d kept her secret from ruining her life—or at least she thought she had. But as Bear’s hands moved lower, cupping her ass, and he ground his hips against her, making her dizzier, drunk on him, she felt herself slipping.
Losing her footing.
I’m not afraid.
I want to be with you.
Anxiety clawed up her limbs, making her rigid despite her desires. Her breaths came in fast, hard spurts.
“Crystal?”
Bear’s voice sounded far away.
I’m okay. I’m okay. I want you so fucking badly.
“Crystal, look at me. What’s wrong?”
The concern in his eyes nearly knocked her off-balance again. “Nothing,” she finally managed. “I…” Need to get a grip. “I’m just tired, and that kiss. Damn, Bear. That kiss…”
He splayed his hands over her back, searching her eyes. “More than two hundred and fifty days of foreplay has its benefits.” He nuzzled against her cheek again. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look okay.”
“I’m fine,” she said, trying to ignore the heart palpitations determined to do her in. What the fuck was going on? She’d spent months keeping him at arm’s length, and she didn’t want to do that anymore. “It was the kiss.” Damn, she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“Crystal,” he said with a compassionate lilt. “You can talk to me.”
She stepped from his arms, needing space to lower her invisible armor into place. She absolutely was not afraid to be intimate with Bear, and this panic was totally messing with her head. She grabbed the back door and flung it open, snatching the bags from the seat to give her hands something to do before they curled into fists she couldn’t unfurl.
“I’m fine, okay?” She didn’t mean to snap, but if he pushed, she’d disappear into her head, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want this! This negativity between them, the fucking worry in his eyes. She wanted to kiss the man she’d longed to be closer to and not have her heart race, not have her mind rush back to the fucker who had taken her against her will. And not have Chrystina peek her weak fucking head into kick-ass Crystal’s life.
She wanted normal.
He reached for the packages. “Let me help you with those.”
“No,” she said too quickly.
“No?” Confusion riddled his brow, and just as quickly it morphed to frustration. “What’s going on, Crystal? You’re hot one minute, cold the next. What’s your deal?”
She rolled her eyes, a mannerism she’d mastered knowing it drove people nuts—the perfect way to keep people away. In full-on Crystal mode, she straightened her spine and met those honey-colored eyes, which melted her resolve and strengthened it at once. Self-preservation was to Crystal what breathing was to others. As she prepared to give him a snappy retort and storm off, she realized he didn’t have his truck or his motorcycle. Damn it. She had to drive him home. What was the universe doing to her? She dropped her shoulders and tossed her bags back into the car.
“Get in. I’ll take you home, and you can hit the bar and pick up someone to help you with those blue balls I’m sure you’re packing.” She bit back the bile rising in her throat. She hated saying something so vile and mean, but it was the only way. She needed to be alone to clear her head, and there was no stopping this runaway train except to completely derail.
Bear grabbed her arm and spun her around. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
She wrenched her arm free. “Just get in. I’ll take you home.”
Maybe some girls in her situation would tell him he could do better, or that they couldn’t be what he needed, but she didn’t believe that. Not for a single second. She was not going to let some asshole from her past ruin her chance at happiness. She was good and smart and strong. So fucking strong. She was more than good enough for whomever she wanted to be good enough for. Self-worth was not the issue here, and she knew that as wholly and confidently as she knew she had to get away from Bear to deal with the war raging inside her head. She just needed to figure out how to get past the anxiety brought on by being close to the first and only man she’d ever wanted.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Crystal, what the—”
“Do you want a ride?” Because you better get in now before I lose my head over the thought of you and another woman.
“No.” His voice was dead calm, his gaze locked on her.
“No? Bear, you’re not coming upstairs.” She sounded cold and distant. She fucking hated cold and distant, but she needed it. It was the only way.
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve driven that point home as clear as those pretty cock-teasing eyes of yours.” He rolled his broad shoulders back, his tatted-up biceps flexing as he pulled his phone from his pocket.
She watched him stalk away, his black boots eating up the pavement as he brought the phone to his ear, heading for the street.
Chapter Four