8. Lily
LILY
T he smell of frying meat drags me out of sleep.
My body aches in ways I didn’t think possible, a reminder of yesterday’s madness, but the cabin is warm, the blankets heavy, and for a moment I let myself sink into it.
Then I hear him over the scrape of the skillet, the deep rumble of his voice muttering at himself, like a bear in his woods.
Bear.
The name I gave him hums in my chest. It’s mine now, and I can’t think of him as anything else.
But... wait, I still don’t even know his real name. And very little else besides that.
He’s dazed me with hot sex and sexy wood chopping, and I’ve fallen into a sex-trance around him.
It’s been five days. Am I really going to let the days trickle away with no clear idea of what happens next?
Why not? Where and who do you have to return to?
I shake my head at the taunting that sounds alarmingly like Brandon’s voice, slip out of bed, and pad down the hall. He doesn’t notice me at first, big shoulders hunched as he stirs the pan. On the table sits a jar of water, coffee, bread, butter already waiting.
He’s set out a plate for me next to his.
Careful. Thoughtful. Caring . My heart lurches.
This near stranger is caring for me, pampering me in ways I’ve never experienced. With Brandon, I was the one waiting on him hand and foot, day and night. Scared he’d leave me.
But I can’t let myself soften. I want out of this cabin. Off this mountain eventually.
Don’t I?
I stop myself from announcing my presence just yet.
I’m more than a little sore from our activities, and I need the bathroom. But... come breakfast, I’ll ask him a few questions.
I slip back down the hall and use the bathroom.
On my way out, I notice another door I’d missed before. It’s narrower and doesn’t lead outside. It has no handle, just a simple latch.
A storage room, maybe.
The latch is cool under my palm, and it barely creaks when I push it open.
It’s dark, spare. The smell of dust and leather hangs heavy, with shelves stacked with boxes. One in the corner, I spot an old trunk, lid warped with age.
I shouldn’t be snooping, but I can’t help myself.
I creep closer and pry it open.
My breath catches, first at the red velvet lining the inside.
Then at the actual contents.
A broad wristband, shiny purple trunks, a heavy championship belt dulled with wear but still shiny enough to announce what it is.
Memories flash... of me half-watching the TV with delivery guys on lunch breaks, pretending not to care while secretly fascinated by the sheer size of the men onscreen, by the spectacle.
The mountain of a man they cheered for?—
Oh. My. God.
That’s why he’s felt familiar from the start. Because I’ve seen him before. Not like he is now, not raw and broken, but feral while shining under lights. Oiled, with his beautiful muscles bunching as he flung his opponents clear across the ring, roaring like the animal he was named after.
Holy shit. Bear is ? —
The floor creaks behind me.
I whirl as he fills the doorway, spatula in one hand, eyes burning holes through me. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he snarls.
“I...” My throat dries. “You were—are famous. You’re The Grizzly.”
His jaw ticks. He stalks closer, gaze dropping to the belt in my hands. And then to my face. The shine in my eyes must betray me, because his expression twists.
“You like me better now that you know I was someone? Does it make it easier to think about sticking around longer?” he accuses, voice harsh.
“Or at all?”
Hurt lances, sharp and deep. “What? No! How dare you?”
His mouth curls bitter. “You wouldn’t be the first, doll. Women loved the show. The spotlight. Thought they could fix the beast when the cameras went off.”
The words cut deeper than they should. My anger spikes and my fingers curl around his prized trophy. “So I’m not allowed to mention my ex, but you get to throw your past lovers in my face? Judge me against them?”
He frowns, but he doesn’t deny it.
“Fuck you, Grizzly .”
I go to brush past him, but his arm shoots out, catching me. “Still doesn’t excuse you snooping.”
The words cut some more, because they’re half right. Shame burns my skin. But I’m still hurt from his other unfair accusations. And I lash out before I can think, my palm cracking across his cheek.
The sound hangs in the air.
His head jerks—but then he groans.
Groans . His cock swells in his jeans, visible, obscene .
Mouthwatering .
I thought yesterday, hitting him while he fucked me on his rock, was a fluke, but turns out it’s not. He likes the rough treatment.
And me? Oh God, I’m depraved.
Why the hell does it turn me on when violence is... abhorrent?
Before I can think deeply about it, I slap him again, furious and terrified.
He growls, grabs my wrist. “Again.”
“No!” My voice shakes.
What’s happening? Who am I?
Disappointment flashes across his face. For once, he looks almost vulnerable.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “Violence... I...” My ex’s voice hisses in my head— You’re broken. You crave the wrong things because something’s wrong with you.
He sees the panic, the way I tremble, and his hand tightens on my wrist. Walks me back until my bare ass hits the lid of his trunk. Touches the objects of his fame and fortune. “It’s not wrong if we both like it, petal.”
I shake my head. “I’ve been here five days. And I don’t... didn’t even know your name until like five minutes ago. This... this is insane.”
“Knox,” he breathes. “My name is Knox.”
I laugh, and it emerges shaky as fuck. “I know that now, Knox.”
His eyes darken, and he shakes his head. “But I prefer Bear.” His voice almost pleads, and something cracks inside me, bleeding away the hurt.
Making my hand uncurl, I rise and stroke his thick jaw. “I like Bear too.”
A sound rumbles low, primal through him, and my pulse skitters.
“Show me then, petal. Show me how much you like it.”
I launch myself at him. My mouth collides with his, messy, desperate. “I’m sorry for slapping you.”
He growls into the kiss, lips devouring mine. “Don’t apologize for something I fucking loved.”
He hauls me against his chest, mouth hot, hands rough, grinding my wet, sore, and throbbing center down against his cock. I feel how hard he is, how thick, and I whimper into his mouth.
The belt drops to the floor with a thud as he pushes me back against the closet wall.
He rips my T-shirt up, exposing me, baring me, and I should be ashamed of my needy, shameless wetness. But his eyes burn like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
He frees himself, cock heavy and leaking, pressing at my entrance. My breath stutters as fear mingles with molten, desperate want.
“Just the tip again?” he rasps, voice raw. “I know you’re sore, baby, but I need inside you. So fucking bad.”
I nod, trembling. “Yes, come inside me, Bear.”
With a long, animal grunt, he pushes in, thick head breaching me, stretching me wide. I cry out, nails clawing at his shoulders.
My walls spasm around him. My back arches. He thrusts deeper, still holding back most of his size, but enough to make me see stars.
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, whispering flower against my throat, I don’t care.
I’m already his.
And the scariest part is…I want to be.