Wounds to Bear (Heart of The Bear #1)(19)

It had been the longest month of his life.

His heart nearly stopped when he pulled into her little valley, and her truck wasn’t there.

He raced to the back of the house and slammed on the brake, out of the SUV before it finished stopping. One glance through the window of her clinic started his heart again.

All her equipment was there, supplies neatly stacked in the glass front cabinets. She must be out on a call…

He heard her truck before he saw it, the familiar rumble echoing across the valley. And he knew the second she spotted him; her truck jerked to a halt, and he half expected her to turn around and drive away.

Instead, she started moving forward, and parked next to him, her face unreadable when she slid out of the truck. His first glimpse of her shot need, lust, and possession straight to his cock.

Mine.

His bear said it first, and he agreed. All he had to do was find his way back into her heart. Hell, he’d grovel if he had to. He deserved any humbling demand, after pushing her away.

“Roman.” Her waist length hair was in a thick braid, draped over one shoulder. The simple blue plaid shirt, jeans and worn hiking boots left him weak. God help him, she was so damn beautiful, the faded denim hugging her curves, her strong, shapely legs. He wanted those legs wrapped around his waist, wanted to fill himself with her, love her until they couldn’t see straight. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to—” Apologize, beg, plead, lick her feet. He wasn’t sure which to say first. “How are you?”

Idiot.

“Busy.” She pulled a big canvas bag out of the back of the truck. “So spit out whatever you came to say, so I can—”

“I’m sorry, Jenna.”

She halted, the pain in her eyes driving right into his heart.

“Thank you. Goodbye, Roman.”

He grabbed her arm when she walked past him, braced for violence. She didn’t disappoint.

The canvas bag smacked his right arm, the sharp edges of whatever she had in there digging into him.

“Get your hand off me.”

“Jenna—”

“You told me you didn’t want me. I’m okay with that.” Her shaky voice told him different, and he hated himself for it. “But I can’t see you. I can’t see any of you. I’m leaving.”

Panic shot through him. “No—”

“I have another job waiting for me in Colorado. It’ll be for the best.” She gave him a sad smile. “I made sure it was shifter free territory. Good luck, with everything.”

She walked past him, and he saw his life going with her.

“Jenna.” She halted, her hand gripping the door knob. “Can I say one last thing?”

He heard her curse under his breath. “Fine.”

“Can you look at me while I say it?”

“Fine.” She dropped the bag, and he watched her take a deep breath, her fists clenched, before she turned around. “What.”

He moved so fast she barely had time to gasp against his lips before he claimed them.

She tasted like heaven. Her body fit against his like she was made for him. Roman kept the kiss soft, let her respond, or reject. After endless seconds, she let out a choked sob and opened her mouth under his.

Relief crashed through him. He hiked her up and pinned her against the wall, those strong legs wrapping around his waist as the kiss turned wild. She rode his cock, moaning against his lips as she pulled him in tighter.

He needed to be inside her. Now.

“Jenna—”

“Yes,” she gasped.

He leaned back enough to pop the buttons on his jeans, release his aching cock. Jenna had her jeans open, her fingers pushing aside the lace panties she wore. She wrapped her fingers around him and guided him forward, squeezing his length before she let him go. He growled, his cock pulsing, and drove himself in, until he filled her completely.

“Shit,” he whispered. She was so wet, so tight around him. He didn’t plan this—he brought flowers and food for a slow, sensual apology, before he took her to bed and loved her like she deserved. Instead he was taking her against the wall of her own house. “Jenna, I—”

“If that’s an apology for what we’re doing, swallow it.” She rocked against him, and he groaned. “I want to hate you, Roman Black, for even thinking that I’d leave just because you defended your family.” She cradled his left cheek, the faded scars left from Paul’s assault a permanent reminder of the battle he came close to losing. “I love you more because you’re that kind of man.”


He kissed her, his love, his need, translating into movement. He thrust into her, his tongue sliding over hers at the same rough, fast pace. She met every stroke, her breathing ragged, her body arching into him. He gripped her round, gorgeous ass and drove himself in deeper, faster.

His climax shook him, and he pumped into her as he spilled himself deep inside her, felt her clamp around him as she found her own release. She held him, with her strong arms, her body, until his final, shuddering stroke.

“Jenna.” He brushed sweat damp strands of hair off her flushed cheek, wanting her again. “Have dinner with me.”

She burst out laughing, the movement making his cock twitch. “I haven’t done any shopping, since I was planning to leave.”