Chapter 11
Fern is an animal.
That was fun until it wasn’t. Why Elliott’s bear was rearing up at her, she had no idea, but she didn’t like it.
When his mouth fell open like he was going to eat her alive, a droplet of hot saliva landed on her forehead, and Fern screamed. “You’re scaring me! Stop!”
He lunged, and she leapt left, diving into the stream.
It was shallow, and the grainy bottom scraped her stomach as she kicked for dear life, waiting for his huge claws to rip through her back.
Her lungs burned, and she wished she’d taken a big breath before going under.
Still, she stayed as deep as she could get—like it would stop a fucking grizzly.
Reeds slicked past her face as she bashed her shoulder into a rock, but she kept going.
A shriek leapt from Fern’s lungs as something huge and unyielding wrapped around her waist, hauling her up and out of the water. She waited for teeth and claws and certain death, gasping when she smashed back into a solid surface.
Her feet found purchase in the silt, and she thrashed, only to be gripped tighter against that furless—mostly—surface. And things clicked.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Elliott panted against her hair as water lapped at her stomach. “Fern, please forgive me. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice rumbled low in her ear, sending tingles through her body.
Struggling halfheartedly against his hold, she tried to determine if it was adrenaline or lust making her heart pound and her breath shallow. “Why did you do that?!”
“I lost control of my bear.”
Staring into the clear stream ahead, she asked, “Does that happen often? I thought everyone was joking about animals being dangerous. Then I really thought they were, after I learned the truth about you all. Is Beckett Falls not safe for me?” She squirmed in his grip, trying to look at his face without breaking contact.
“Why would Liv have me come someplace dangerous? Do I need to leave?”
Voice low and chest rumbling, he assured her, “You don’t need to go anywhere.”
“I feel like I do.” This man was the freaking king of mixed signals. When she wiggled, curious to see if he’d let her go or not, the top of her ass brushed something hot and hard. “Are you naked?”
“Yeah. My clothes are somewhere downriver.”
Blinking stupidly at the sun and trying to convince herself not to rub her butt on him again, she asked, “Why did you lose control?”
His chin settled on her head, and he curled around her in a shockingly comforting gesture, then admitted, “He wanted to bite you.”
Fern froze for a split second before going limp, attempting to slip out from his hold. His arm tightened across her chest like he thought she was falling.
“Okay, so I’m not safe,” she said unconvincingly, because she felt pretty fucking safe at that moment.
Elliott loosened his grip, moving his hands to her hips, driving her awareness of him sky high. His pinkies settled at the tops of her thighs along the seam of her bikini, and when his fingers flexed, it sent heart-stammering shivers straight to her pussy.
“Not to eat you, Fern. To mark you.”
She twisted, wanting to face him, but he tightened his hold, intensifying those shivers and ensuring she stayed facing away. Did this have to do with mating? “Does your bear have a crush on me?”
After a slow, deep inhale, he said, “You could say that,” and moved one of his hands away.
That was her opening. Spinning in a tight circle, she focused on his chest hair while asking, “Do you have a crush on me?”
His answer meant everything. She’d been partially honest about not looking for a relationship, in the sense that she’d had enough bad luck in the past to not seek them out in the future.
The right one would find her, though. But this wasn’t the right one…
she didn’t think. Still, she wasn’t opposed to keeping things casual to get the goods.
She’d never been known for great decision-making.
Idly, he massaged her hip like he was sculpting her, and Fern groaned as she pulsed again. It wasn’t a complicated question, and she’d really like a fucking answer.
A gruff sound came from his throat, and her falling hopes yanked her gaze down farther to where his hand was covering his cock—poorly.
Sucking in a breath, she forced her eyes up and studied his trimmed beard, glinting auburn in the sunlight, while the hair on his head hung loose, bearing no trace of red. Wild and caught in the breeze, a lock blew in front of his eyes, but he ignored it, leaving his hands where they were needed.
“You have no reason to fear for your safety,” Elliott said, totally avoiding her question.
That was a no. With a sigh, she shrank away, but he slid his hand around to the back of her hip and held tight.
“Our animals don’t attack humans. We’re too closely connected to humanity to act like traditional predators.”
“Well then, what the hell was that?” Lifting her arm to gesture downstream, she ran into his bicep and unwisely let her fingers rest there. “At first, I thought you were a wild bear.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Did they not tell you yesterday? Other predators don’t come close to Beckett Falls because we smell wrong to them.”
That was helpful information, very helpful, actually, but it wasn’t what she wanted to know. Squeezing his arm, she asked, “Are you going to avoid all the important questions?”
“Probably.”
She huffed, and as his gaze softened further, found the fortitude to ask, “Are you into me? I mean, aside from the ‘no relationship’ thing—’cause I’m cool with just screwing around, you know. Did you... want to do that?”
He stared at her long enough she parsed out the true color of his irises.
They weren’t hazel like she’d originally thought, they were unique, like him.
Dark blue rings surrounded the bronze central starbursts; he had that—what was it called—central heterochromia going on.
She considered sweeping her thumb over his cheekbones and sliding her fingers into his hair, but the whole “him ignoring her question” thing had her pulling away again.
Elliott didn’t like that... or his bear didn’t. A growl tumbled from his chest as he planted a second hand on her hip and tugged her close.
“Yes.” He finally answered a question—who knew which one—and dropped his mouth to hers.
Shit. He was a phenomenal kisser.
She shoved a hand in his hair and gripped his bicep like a lifeline, like he might turn and run off at any moment. Rumbling something unintelligible, he hoisted her into the air.
Shocked, Fern squealed into Elliott’s mouth and locked her legs around his waist. With his palms repositioned to grip her ass, he spun them around and started trudging upstream.
“We’re going to my house, okay?” he asked gruffly as she bounced along, staring past his big head at the spot where she’d just been standing.
“Mhm.” With her arms locked around his shoulders and the tip of his cock smacking her butt every few steps, she didn’t mind the distance to his place.
She’d intentionally gotten close on her kayaking adventure but didn’t realize she’d all but made it to his yard.
Hell, they’d passed by when he was chasing her down.
When he was terrifying her and turning her on in equal measure.
Fuck, she liked a little fear in her life.
She clenched at the memory of that all-consuming panic, followed by the wave of comfort when his big, strong arm scooped around her waist. A whimper must’ve escaped her, because Elliott dug his fingers into her ass and pulled her center against his abdomen.
The rough hairs on his stomach rubbed the insides of her thighs, sending little shockwaves through her.
“Hold on tight.”
She did, and he let go of her with one arm long enough to pull open a squeaky screen door and step onto what she assumed was his back porch.
She expected him to set her down, but Fern’s back met a wall, and Elliott’s palms slid from her ass to her thighs as he shoved his face into the side of her neck.
He kissed her and inhaled while she stifled a giggle at the tickle of his beard on her skin.
A breeze rustled through the trees, pushing the scent of warm pine through the screen porch.
Fern could feel herself relaxing into the moment as she shoved her worries aside and dragged her fingers through his waves.
With his chest rumbling against her tits, she shamelessly tugged his head back and claimed his mouth, nipping his lower lip and running her tongue over the seam. Elliott moaned as he turned them away from the wall to sit on some soft surface, startling her into breaking their embrace.
She straddled him on a white iron daybed that sported a few boring blue throw pillows and a patchwork quilt. To her left, a windowed door led inside. Straight ahead, a window in the timbered wall looked into a bright, airy kitchen.
Given the outside of his home, she’d have expected dark wood and maybe some deer heads on the walls. What she could see pleased her, even if his color palette left something to be desired. That didn’t really matter, though, not when this was a friends with benefits thing—she was pretty sure.
Jesus Christ, how did she end up in this situation?
Who let a six-foot-tall naked man carry them home after chasing them down and trying to bite them?
Yes, she knew man and bear had two different minds, but it was all Elliott to her.
Maybe she should name his bear. Did he already have a name?
Good lord, she needed to work on her decision-making skills.
Elliott tugged one of her braids, drawing her attention back to his face and the feel of his skin beneath hers.
So little fabric separated them, just her tiny, damp bikini, and being carried to the house had parted the triangles of her top into nothing more than two bands that hardly covered her nipples.
Actually, one of them was definitely out and rubbing his chest hair.
“Sugar,” he rumbled, “do you want this?”