Chapter 18
Hadley
My breath catches.
Because the way he’s looking at me?
It’s not casual.
It’s not playful.
It’s intent.
Focused.
Like he’s already decided something about me I haven’t caught up to yet.
And that thought alone makes my pulse stutter.
“W-what do you want me to do?” I whisper.
There’s a flicker of nerves there.
But also—Gods help me—excitement.
“Start here,” he murmurs.
He lifts my hands, guiding them with his—slow, steady—until my palms press against my cheeks.
His hands settle over mine, warm, firm, grounding me there.
The contact sends a strange awareness through me—like my skin is suddenly alive under his touch.
Like I can feel everything.
“This face,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “It’s so damn pretty.”
My stomach flips.
“First time I saw you in that ice cream shop?” he continues, his gaze locking with mine in the mirror. “I damn near forgot how to breathe.”
I swallow.
Hard.
Because he’s not teasing.
He’s not exaggerating.
He means it.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
His hands slide over mine, guiding them down.
Over my throat.
My collarbone.
The movement is slow, deliberate—like he’s mapping me out, like every inch matters.
“You feel that?” he murmurs.
I nod before I can stop myself.
My heartbeat is galloping inside my chest, and I know that’s what he’s talking about.
“Good,” he says. “I want you to.”
My breath comes a little faster now.
Because it’s not just what he’s saying.
It’s how he’s saying it.
Like this isn’t just about touching.
It’s about seeing.
His hands move mine again, settling them lower, and I tense for a second—but he doesn’t let me pull away.
Doesn’t force me either.
Just holds me there. His palms pressing against the back of my hands as he guides me to my breasts.
Cupping them.
Weighing them.
His grip on me is steady.
Certain.
My nipples harden against my skin, and I hiss when he moves my palms over them.
He grunts, eyes flashing with his beast in the mirror’s reflection. Then he’s on the move again, pushing my hands down to the soft swell of my belly.
“This is part of you, I adore,” he says quietly. “It’s not something to hide. Not something to apologize for.”
My chest tightens.
Because no one’s ever said it like that before.
No one’s ever made it feel like something good.
His voice drops again, roughening at the edges.
“And I need you to know, Hadley,” he adds, his thumbs brushing lightly over my hands, “there’s nothing about you I’d change.”
Something inside me wobbles.
Dangerously.
I shake my head a little, like I can push that feeling away before it takes root.
But he doesn’t let me drift.
Doesn’t let me retreat.
He keeps me right there.
Present.
With him.
His hands guide mine again, lower this time, and my breath catches, my body already reacting, already aware.
He presses them over my mound. His long fingers pushing mine so I’m touching myself intimately.
My cheeks heat when I feel the flood of moisture that leaks from my slit. I can scent it—my arousal.
And I know he can, too.
“And this? See this pretty, perfect little pussy right here? That’s it,” he murmurs, closer now, his voice right at my ear. “This is where I need you to stop thinking and just feel.”
I close my eyes for a second.
Because I can’t not feel it.
The warmth.
The tension.
The way my body answers him without permission.
And when I open them again?
He’s moving.
Lowering himself in front of me, his gaze never leaving mine.
There’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at me.
Not greedy.
Not rushed.
Like I’m something he’s chosen.
Something he wants to take his time with.
Something worth all of this.
My breath stutters.
“Rob,” I whisper, his name barely more than a sound.
He just hums softly in response, his hands still guiding mine, grounding me, keeping me from pulling away into my head again.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs.
And I do.
Gods help me, I do.
Because whatever this is?
Whatever he’s doing to me?
“Fuck, you’re so pretty here, Cookie. So fucking sweet. Gonna eat you. Gonna swallow you whole,” he growls against my mound.
My fingers leave my sex, clutching at Rob’s head as his tongue parts my folds, swallowing down my slick.
“Oh fuck,” I moan as he lifts one of my thighs, draping it over his shoulder.
His tongue is textured, rough, like the Tiger he is, and it feels so damn good.
I’m not gonna last.
No matter how hard I try, I know I’m going to fall.
And the best part? I know Rob is going to catch me.
Because no matter what I tell myself, this isn’t just physical.
It’s not just heat. Or a little blinking MATCHED from some magical app.
It’s something deeper.
Something that makes me feel seen in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for.
And when the sound that escapes me finally does—soft, unfiltered, completely out of my control—I don’t even try to stop it.
Because for once?
I don’t want to hold anything back.
He growls with all the ferocity of his beast and eats me out like it’s his job.
“Come for me, Cookie. Ride my face and come,” he growls and I can’t help myself.
I listen.
I rock my hips and press my sex against his flattened tongue, moaning when he pushes two thick fingers inside my tight channel.
Holy fuck.
I don’t know how he does it, but he hooks them just right, and then he’s touching me somewhere inside I thought was just a myth.
My she-Bear roars inside me, and Rob just spins me and places my hands flat on the tub, bending me over at the waist as he fits his cock to my needy slit.
Then he’s pushing inside, and soon, one orgasm becomes two. Only this time, I’m not alone.
“Fuck, Cookie, look at you. Look at us,” he grunts, and I raise my eyes to the mirror, seeing what he sees.
And I-I don’t even recognize myself.
Lips parted, hair a wild tangle of curls, cheeks flushed, and Rob moving inside me like a man on a mission—it’s wildly erotic, easily the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
And for a moment, I see what I think he sees.
I see us—and we are breathtaking.