Chapter Twenty-Four – Sarah
Sarah woke with a start, heart thudding as she tried to make sense of her surroundings in the pre-dawn darkness. This wasn’t her bedroom. The mattress felt different, firmer beneath her body, and the scent—pine and something distinctly male—wasn’t the smell of her own sheets.
Then it all came flooding back.
Michael. The bear. The mate bond. Making love in front of the fire before moving to his bed.
She turned onto her side, finding his solid form next to her, his chest rising and falling in the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.
He was real. This was real. Sarah reached out, her fingertips tracing the contours of his chest, following the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the sheet draped low across his hips.
Michael’s hand moved suddenly, capturing hers and bringing it to his lips. The gentle press of his mouth against her palm sent a shiver down her spine.
“Did I wake you?” she whispered.
“No,” he replied, his voice husky with sleep. “I’ve been awake for a while, listening to your breathing to remind myself this is real.”
The tenderness in his words made something flutter in her chest. Sarah leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss that quickly deepened as his arms slid around her, pulling her closer.
When they finally parted, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Just in case I hit my head and imagined it, you did turn into a bear last night, didn’t you?”
Michael chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath her palm. “I did.”
“Just checking.” She grinned, still marveling at how easily she’d accepted this impossible truth. But then, nothing about their connection had felt ordinary from the beginning.
Michael’s fingers threaded through her hair, gently massaging her scalp before trailing down her neck to her collarbone.
His touch ignited sparks beneath her skin, a slow-building heat that pooled low in her belly.
When his hand found her breast, thumb circling her nipple until it hardened beneath his touch, Sarah’s breath caught in her throat.
She arched into his touch, craving more of him. With a boldness that surprised even herself, Sarah slipped her thigh over his body, straddling him in one fluid motion. The sheet fell away, leaving nothing between them but skin against skin.
Michael sucked in a sharp breath as she reached between them, guiding him to her entrance. She sank down slowly, taking him inch by delicious inch until he filled her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect fullness that made her gasp with pleasure.
She began to move, rocking her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm.
Michael sat up, his mouth finding her breast, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before drawing it between his lips.
His hands roamed her body, cupping and kneading her breasts as she continued to ride him, her movements becoming more urgent with each passing second.
The dual sensations—his mouth on her breast, his hardness inside her—sent waves of pleasure cascading through Sarah’s body.
Her thighs began to tremble as tension coiled tighter within her core.
Michael must have sensed how close she was, because his thumb found that sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs, pressing and circling in perfect counterpoint to her movements.
The added touch was all she needed. Sarah’s release crashed over her like a wave, her inner muscles clenching around him as pleasure radiated outward from her center. She cried out, her body shuddering as Michael gripped her hips, thrusting upward to meet her movements.
A moment later, he followed her over the edge, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he pulsed inside her. Sarah collapsed against his chest, their hearts racing in tandem as they clung to each other in the aftermath.
They lay together afterward, Michael’s arms wrapped securely around her as their breathing gradually slowed. His fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine while she nestled against him, her head tucked beneath his chin.
These quiet moments felt almost as intimate as their lovemaking. The gentle touches, the comfortable silence, the feeling of absolute safety she felt in his arms. Sarah could have stayed there forever, listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear.
But reality had a way of intruding, even on perfect moments.
“I should go,” she said reluctantly, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I texted my mom last night to say I was staying here, and she’s going to have a million questions. I want to get them out of the way before Emmy gets home.”
Michael groaned, his arms tightening around her. “I never want to let you go.”
The declaration, simple as it was, made her heart ache. She tilted her face up to his, and he captured her lips in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, his tongue sliding against hers in a sensual dance that had her reconsidering her decision to leave.
With obvious reluctance, Michael finally released her. “Can you stay for coffee at least?”
Sarah kissed his cheek as she slipped out of bed, immediately missing his warmth. “Yes. I think I’m going to need a shot of caffeine before I face my mom.”
Michael chuckled, the sound making her pause as she reached for her clothes on the nearby chair.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“No matter how old we get, we’re still kids to our parents,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow to watch her.
Sarah laughed, nodding in agreement. “Yes. But I’m not going to judge my mom since I’m sure I’ll be the same no matter how old Emmy is.”
She gathered her clothes, which she’d placed on the chair in the corner of his bedroom last night after collecting them from in front of the fireplace.
Images of Michael making love to her there flashed through her mind, a delicious heat spreading through her body at the memory.
Sarah pushed the thoughts aside before the temptation to crawl back into bed became too strong.
She could certainly get used to having Michael make love to her every night and every morning. And she could get used to it, since they were mates.
Mates. The word felt right in a way she couldn’t explain. Sarah smiled to herself as she sorted through her clothes, liking the sound of the word more and more. For the first time since her divorce, the future looked bright and full of possibilities.
Possibilities that included the man watching her from the bed with eyes that promised forever.
But forever would have to wait. She needed to get home.
“Do I have to make my own coffee?” she asked as she ran her fingers through her hair.
“On it.” Michael swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching his arms overhead. Sarah’s breath caught as she watched the play of muscles across his back, her fingers itching to trace the contours of his shoulders again.
“I’ll get it started,” he said, reaching for a pair of sweatpants.
Sarah turned away, focusing on getting dressed instead of staring at his body. Her clothes felt slightly rumpled, but she smoothed them as best she could. At least she’d be home soon to change before Emmy returned.
Emmy. A wave of maternal love washed over her. How would she explain all this to her daughter? Not the bear part—that would remain their secret for now—but the relationship with Michael. Everything had happened so quickly, yet it felt like the most natural progression in the world.
Michael came to her and kissed her cheek before heading downstairs. In the silence of his bedroom, she sat down on his bed and took a moment to get her head around things. Was she ready for forever with Michael?
Yes. The single word thudded against her skull. There was no question as to whether they had a life together. To ignore the mating bond was unthinkable.
So, she would find a way to make it work. For herself and for Emmy.
The scent of brewing coffee pulled her from her thoughts. She followed it to the kitchen, where Michael stood barefoot and shirtless, measuring grounds into a filter. Morning light streamed through the windows, catching in his dark hair, illuminating the silver strands at his temples.
“You’re staring,” he said without turning around, amusement warming his voice.
Heat rose to Sarah’s cheeks. “Can you blame me?”
Michael glanced over his shoulder, his smile making her heart skip. “No more than I can blame myself for staring at you all night.”
“You did not.”
“I did.” He turned to face her fully, leaning against the counter. “I kept waking up, worried you might disappear.”
The simple honesty in his words touched something deep inside her. Sarah crossed the room and slipped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his chest. His skin was warm beneath her cheek, his heartbeat steady and strong.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured.
His arms encircled her, holding her close. They stood that way until the coffee maker beeped, reluctantly separating as Michael reached for two mugs from an overhead cabinet.
“Cream? Sugar?” he asked.
“Just a splash of cream,” she replied, settling onto a stool at the small kitchen island.
Michael prepared their coffees, sliding hers across the counter before joining her. The domesticity of the moment wasn’t lost on Sarah. How comfortable it felt to be here with him, sharing this quiet morning ritual. One she hoped to repeat for the rest of her life.
“So,” she said, wrapping her hands around the warm mug, “what happens now?”
Michael took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. “Whatever you want to happen.”
“That’s a very diplomatic answer.”
He chuckled. “I’m trying not to overwhelm you. Last night was a lot to take in.”