Page 42 of Trusting Her Bear
“Straddle my hips and explore,” he commands.
“Really?” I ask.
“Little Cub,” he growls.
I quickly throw off the blankets in excitement, but then I’m kneeling next to his waist, and I slow down. I’m such a dork. I look up, hoping he didn’t think the same; he looks back at me calmly.
He crooks his finger as I hesitate. Jesus, if he wasn’t hot enough.
I lift my leg, my hands pressing into his stomach, as I straddle him. I gulp.
He groans. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“It feels good having you on top of me.”
“Oh…” His jeans rub roughly against my thighs, and I have to agree.
“Touch as much as you want.”
I look down. “You are beautiful.”
“If you say so,” he says.
“I do,” I say firmly.
“Alight, you can call me that. Only you,” he grins, and I’m very pleased.
“Good,” I say, deciding to be honest, making him chuckle.
“My possessive mate,” he rumbles.
“I am,” I say firmly.
“I’m glad.”
I start slowly, sliding my hands up his stomach and taking my time over each muscle. His skin is soft, yet so hard underneath. As I move up, my body stretches over his. My breasts slide over his stomach, and my nipples harden. Quinn doesn’t have a six-pack, but he’s trim at the waist—a manly waist. I can tell he takes care of his body but doesn’t spend all his time in a gym. He has natural muscles because of his bear species. I’ve never liked a man who is cut. I can appreciate them from a distance, but I want a man who enjoys food and isn’t obsessed with everything he puts in his mouth.
Of course, shifters burn calories quickly, and our bodies need the fuel for shifting. Most are always in shape. Quinn is a man who’s big enough to guard and protect his mate.
I glide my fingers over the base of his neck and across to cup his shoulders, his muscles flexed from his position. I squeeze my thighs, pushing up to reach. His shoulders are wide and strong. I am flush against his chest, and my body is warming.
“You didn’t have fun tonight,” I state.
“I enjoyed being next to you,” he says softly. I trail my fingers up his arms, my face close to his.
“You don’t like spending time with them?”
“It’s not that,” he starts with a sigh. “I like all of them, even Sally.” I retrace my path, my eyes on my fingers. “I’ve tried to keep distance between us.”
“Why?” I stop moving and rest my hands under my chin.
He tips his chin, looking under his lashes. “I’ve always been selective about the company I keep. I have made the wrong decisions in the past on who I’ve trusted. I’ve been let down.”
“By who?” I whisper.
He hesitates. “My mother left us. She was there one day and gone the next. We still don’t know where she is.”
“Quinn,” I gasp.