The Cowbear's Curvy Christmas (Curvy Bear Ranch 2) by Liv Brywood Page B

He grabbed her bags and followed her toward the front of the house. With each step, his bear struggled to be unleashed. This time, his need to escape wasn’t predicated on rage. This time, his bear was struggling to keep his mate.
    As they reached the door, she started to pull it open. He reached passed her and pushed it closed. “I can’t let you leave.”
    Her nostrils flared. “Don’t do this. Don’t make my memories of you into something terrible.”
    “Can you honestly say you don’t feel what I’m feeling? Don’t you get that there’s a connection between us that can’t be denied?” He didn’t intend to raise his voice, but the passion behind his words seeped into them.
    “Mack, I—”
    He scooped her up and carried her back into his bedroom. He had to show her how much he wanted her, how much he needed her, and sometimes words were inadequate.
    As he crossed the threshold into his room, he kicked the door closed. The frame vibrated from the force.
    Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she clung to him. “Put me down.”
    When he reached the bed, he lowered her onto it. She tried to sit up, but he covered her with his body. The moment she opened her lips, he kissed them. Soft, warm and supple, his need to claim her ruined his self-control. The wildness inside him came out through his dark, possessive kisses. He needed her, wanted her. With each kiss, he hoped to break down the wall between them.
    She gasped between kisses. At first she pressed against his chest, but then she wrapped her arms around him and drew him closer.
    “Oh, honey,” he murmured against the hollow of her throat.
    “I can’t stay.”
    “No. Don’t go. Please, not yet.” He trailed kisses across her neck and down to her breasts. She arched against him and moaned as he pulled her shirt out of her pants.
    She writhed beneath him as he slid his hand down her pants. When he found her hot, wet core, he knew he wasn’t wrong. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She was just afraid. That bastard Ben had ruined everything when he’d shown up.
    As he rubbed her slick, moist heat across her clit, she shivered. He knew where she liked to be touched and took full advantage of the situation. If she’d told him to stop, he would have, but she didn’t. Instead, she moaned against his throat.
    Encouraged by her sensual response, he slipped his fingers into her. With a gasp and low groan, she moved her hips, forcing him deeper.
    “Please,” she whispered with wanton desperation.
    He moved slowly, deliberately, coaxing her closer to the brink of abandon. As his own hunger built, she whimpered and moved against him. His gaze dropped to meet hers and in doing so, sparked a wildfire of lust.
    Lips parted, throat arched, the sounds coming from deep within her chest aroused him so completely, that he yearned to sink into her. As he kneed her thighs apart, he reached to unbutton her pants.
    She grabbed his wrist. “We have to stop.”
    He growled in frustration. “I need you.”
    “We can’t.”
    He stroked her clit. “Just you then.”
    An aura of conflicted need rolled off her in waves. She released his wrist and brought her hand up over her head. When she didn’t protest, he rolled his fingers against the walls of her pussy. Thrusting in rhythmic percussion, he swirled his thumb across her clit. He wasn’t playing fair and he knew it, but he didn’t care. The look on her face, the expression of pure lust, was worth leaving his own needs unfulfilled.
    When her eyes flew open, he knew she was close. He kept the pace steady, relentless. She clenched around him and screamed as rolling waves fluttered across his fingers. A blissful peace settled over her face.
    He slowly withdrew his hand then moved to cradle her against him. “Please, stay.”
    She clung to him. “I need time. I need to think. And I need to be alone.”
    He released her, stunned that she still wanted to leave. “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.”
    He hung his head.