He pulls back, teeth bared, then drives shallow again, relentless. “If you won’t slap me, then I want those nails digging into my ass.”
Heat floods my face. But when he grinds deep, dragging a scream from me, my hands fly down, nails raking his hard muscle.
His roar shakes the walls.
He thrusts again, harder, and I lose myself, whimpering his name. “Bear,” I gasp. “Please, Bear?—”
That’s all it takes.
He loses control, rutting into me, claiming me with every savage stroke, holding me pinned and open until the world falls away.
When he finally shudders, spilling inside me, I’m gone too, pleasure blinding.
I know this is happening too fast. Too much.
But when he collapses over me, whisperingfloweragainst my throat, I don’t care.
I’m already his.
And the scariest part is…I want to be.
9
KNOX
Dawn creeps slow over Eagle’s Crown, turning the sky from indigo to pale gold. The fire’s burned down to embers, but the weight across my chest is warm, steady.
Lily.
She’s sprawled out on top of me, limbs tangled, cheek pressed over my heart like she belongs there. It’s been almost a week since she found my things, since she held my belt, cradled it like it was something worthy, since she whispered my name like she’d stolen it.
And true to her word, she hasn’t said it again. To her, I’m Bear.
That puzzles me more than I’ll admit.
Every woman I knew in the past, back when the lights were blinding and the crowd screamed forThe Grizzly, would’ve used it to their advantage. Either buttered me up so I gave them what they wanted or held it like a weapon, demanded more even while they basked in the shine of it.
But not my petal.
Sure, she looks at me with those big green eyes, pink mouth parted, and I know she’s thinking of only one thing—how to give me pleasure. It’s unsettling as hell, but fuck if it’s not addictive.
Yeah...addictive.
Fuck, I’m way past addicted to Lily. To the way she looks at me, the way her breath hitches when I touch her. Jesus, even those last vital inches she tries so valiantly but has still not been able to take... I’m addicted to watching her try.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the sting of her jealousy that day, the sharpness in her voice when she accused me of judging her against other women. It burned, but it also branded me. She wanted me enough to get mad. Enough to slap and scratch me.
And holy fucking hell, I liked that too.
I wear her puny little marks with fucking pride. Wish she’d give me more of them.
But I’d gone too far, comparing her to the women who tried to tame me before. I saw the hurt in her face, the way she pulled back like I’d gutted her. I don’t want to see that again.
So I’ve been careful. So careful with my petal.
I tighten my arm around her waist, stare up at the beams overhead, and think about the other reason I’ve been pacing myself.
She was sore. Too sore.
