Bear returns covered in dirt and mud from head to toe, bruised, limping, and grinning.
I eye him as he stands outside the side door. "What the heck happened to you?"
He toes off his sneakers. "Well, it started out as touch football. Felix, Riley, some of the guys from both crews, as well as Sheriff Mannix, a few other cops, and a handful of firefighters."
I arch an eyebrow. "It started as football and ended up…mudwrestling?"
He laughs, a big booming beautiful sound. "It ended up in a contest to see how many guys it took to take me down. They formed teams and took bets."
I laugh. "Only you. Geez. Who won?"
"Felix's team."
"How many did it take?"
"They did it with only six. They cheated though. Grayson tripped me."
I roll my eyes. "Only six, huh? And they had to cheat to win?"
He wipes his brow with his forearm, only succeeding in smearing mud even more. "Pretty much." He grins at me. "How about you?"
I wave a hand. "We had a great time. Nik and Nat got me buzzed and we watched a couple of movies. It was fun. I needed it." I put a hand on his chest, stopping him from coming inside. "You are not bringing those filthy clothes in this house, Bear Olafsson." I allow him past the threshold, pointing down into the basement. "Take them off down there."
I follow him down, butterflies in my stomach. His shirt is stiff and molded to him, and resists coming off, and I end up having to help him peel it off. For the first time in nearly two weeks, I feel a flutter of desire ripple through me at the welcome sight of his big, brawny, heavily muscled body.
He turns away from me, pushing his filthy sweatpants down around his hips.
I step in front of him, catching his hands. "Hey. Hold on, now. Where are you going?"
He rolls a shoulder, not quite looking at me. "I didn't want you to think I was expecting—"
"Bear," I interrupt. "I think this is a good time for what I need to talk to you about."
"Okay," he says, hesitant, cautious.
"I talked to Britt about a lot of stuff. Not just the attack." I move closer to him, running my hands over his scarred, muscular, beautiful chest and abs. "We talked about Brennan. How I was brought up. We talked about how I feel about sex."
He shifts side to side, uncomfortable. "I told you—"
"Yes, you did," I say, touching his lips. "But now I need you to listen to me, okay?"
"Yeah," he says. “Okay. I'm listening."
"Good. Like I said, we talked about sex, both in the context of the attack and outside of that context." I slide my hands down to his waist, gazing up at him in the dim gloom of the unlit basement. "It's nothing I haven't already told you, but what she helped me realize is that even before the attack, I was holdingback. I was mentally framing it as taking time to get to know you and then wanting to take things slow."
"Which makes total sense with what you told me," he says.
I nod. "Yes, of course. And there's an element of truth to that, but it's deeper than that. Brennan didn't just break my trust in him; he broke my ability to trust anyone.” I touch the center of his chest. “I trust you more than I trust anyone. But what Britt helped me realize is that I was holding back because I was scared. And also pretty confused about who I am and what I want."
He gazes down at me thoughtfully. "I can see that. And now?"
"Well, obviously the attack changed things."
"How could it not?"
"Exactly," I say. "But…I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want to hold back anymore. I refuse to be afraid anymore."
"It hasn't even been two weeks, Noelle," Bear says. "You can take—"
