Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
But first I have to know…
“So, you’re a bear shifter, right?”
He nods.
“And don’t bear shifters have… mates?”
He goes still and my stomach drops.
My mind starts racing as we sit in silence. Shit. This is happening again.
“You’re using me to make her jealous, right?”
He whips his head around, eyes full of horror. “What?”
“Does she work at the The Rusty Note?” I ask, shaking my head. Of course. Why would this man be interested in me? “Is she going to be our waitress?”
He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head like he’s trying to catch up to my crazy train. “Hold on. What? Waitress? What?”
“Please stop,” I say, grabbing the door handle. “Let me out here.”
“Whoa,” he says when I try to open the door. His big hand pins me to the seat as he pulls over onto the side of the road. The car behind us honks aggressively as he swerves past us and speeds off.
“Erica, what are you talking about?”
I can feel my cheeks burning. My heart is pounding. These smoky eyes aren’t working. “I refuse to be a pawn in your sick twisted mate game.”
He cringes as he puts his hands on his head. “I’m so lost.”
I stare him dead in the eyes. “Are you using me to make your mate jealous?”
“No,” he says, exasperation in his face. “Erica. You’re my mate.”
I snap my head back, shocked. “What?”
He takes a deep breath. “You’re my mate,” he says in a soft, calm voice. “We’re meant to be together. Can’t you feel it?”
“A little, but…”
“But what?”
I don’t want to say this part. It’s too embarrassing. “I thought that was because you’re super hot.”
He laughs, but it’s not a condescending laugh. It’s a laugh of relief and joy. He just shakes his head slowly as he stares into my smoky eyes that maybe are working a little. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
The inside of the truck heats up with the intense eye contact. My body stirs. Heat billows between my legs. My heart pounds slow and hard, like it’s finally where it needs to be.
I gasp as he slowly leans in, erasing the distance between us. My lips part, my whole body tensing as his mouth touches mine. I moan as he kisses me, soft and tender.
He cradles my jaw with one hand, the other sliding around my waist as he deepens the kiss—slow and full of heat like he’s been starving for it.
It hits me that this is probably his first kiss too. For a rookie, he’s pretty damn good.
His tongue brushes mine, a teasing taste that sends shivers racing down my spine. I melt into him, my fingers clutching his shirt, wanting more, needing to get closer.
My pussy aches as I taste him. My nipples harden. My neck tingles.
I savor every second of the delicious kiss, focusing all my attention on it, on him—his hot tongue, his strong hands, his soft lips, his deep sexy moans. Everything else fades away.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing heavy, our foreheads resting together. “Starting to understand now?” he whispers as he gazes into my eyes.
I touch the tingling spot on my neck as I look at the man who just changed my life. “Kind of. But it’s still hard to fathom. We’re mates? For real?”
“For real,” he says, nodding as he licks my taste off his lips. “I was a mess until I met you.”
“I was a mess too,” I admit. “I think I still am though.”
He laughs as he takes my hand and holds it like he’s never going to let it go. “Let’s get you a fun drink and some French fries.”
We hold hands the whole way to the restaurant and even while he parallel parks. My nerves are replaced with this light feeling of weightlessness, like everything is going to be okay from now on.
The restaurant is fun and lively and just what I need. The band is amazing, playing Small Town by John Mellencamp as the hostess shows us to our booth. Magnus got us a reservation, which I love. I adore a man who takes charge and puts in the effort.
Magnus brings me to the side of the booth that overlooks the restaurant, giving me the better view. It’s small touches like that which mean the world to me.
This place is buzzing with energy—clinking glasses, bursts of laughter, and the hum of conversations filling the air mixed with the fun music. Twinkly string lights zigzag across the ceiling, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. The bar is packed even though it’s a week night. The beautiful bartenders are shaking neon-colored cocktails and pouring huge mugs of draft beer. There’s a chalkboard wall covered in drink specials with odd names like “Bear Trap” and “Whiskey Fizz,” and every corner of the room seems to pulse with that carefree small-town charm.