The BEARly Reluctant Grizzly (Bear Clan 4)

I took a step back as he went to work. He braved the weather once more as he went out to his truck. I kept the door slightly open and watched him grab what looked like a tool box from the back of his vehicle.

He rushed back inside, even more soaking wet than when he’d first arrived, his hair plastered to his head, water droplets falling from his body.

Once the door was shut again, Asher went to work closing up the window. There’d been a few old pieces of plywood in one of the rooms, and after he grabbed them and got rid of the branch through the window, he proceeded to close the opening. The sound of the hammer was barely a whisper over the howl of the wind.

Once it was closed up, he turned to face me. The only light was from the twin flashlights sitting on the floor beside the fireplace, and the shadows danced along the walls behind him. A chill had started to settle in the cabin, and I lifted my hands and rubbed them over

my arms almost involuntarily.

And once again, Asher was moving into action. He went to the fireplace and in a matter of minutes had a roaring fire in the hearth. I felt the heat instantly and walked over, holding my hands out and rubbing them together in front of the flames.

Even though I stared at the fire, I could feel Asher’s gaze on me. I straightened and looked over my shoulder, seeing him standing off to the side, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his clothes soaking wet, his hair dripping with water.

“God, I’m so sorry. How inconsiderate of me.” I went into action then, grabbing some towels that were shoved in a box and carrying them over to him. I handed him one and set the other in the couch. “I don’t have anything that will fit you, but maybe we can hang your clothes in front of the fire since the electricity is out and, well, I don’t have a washer and dryer yet.”

He continued to stare at me, not speaking, but there was this fierce expression on his face that I couldn’t quite place.

He started unbuttoning his flannel, and when he pulled it off, I quickly took it and turned, giving him privacy as he started to remove the white T-shirt he had worn underneath.

My heart was racing, images of what he looked like without a stitch of clothing on slamming into my head. I felt my face heat and was thankful he couldn’t see me surely blushing.

I went and turned on the stove, the gas burner lighting up. At least I could still use this without the electricity, could heat us up some water so we could have some tea, so he could warm up a little bit.

“I hope you like tea,” I said almost absently, but that was just something to keep me busy, to keep my mind off of more inappropriate things.

I heard rustling behind me, and found myself looking over my shoulder, even though I tried not to. I wanted to give him some privacy, but it was as if he had this rope tethered to me, and I was being pulled toward him. It was hard to fight, almost impossible to ignore.

He had the white shirt off, and the sight of his chest, the tattoos that I could see, had my private inner muscles clenching almost painfully. I squeezed my thighs together and turned around quickly, but I found myself looking over my shoulder once more, taking in the hard planes of his chest, his pectoral muscles, the washboard abs.

His chest was bare aside from a line of hair that started just below his navel and disappeared underneath his dark boxer briefs. Yeah, he’d taken off his jeans. And of everything that was holy, that man looked like he was carved out of marble.

I focused on making the tea, waited until the water heated, until the kettle whistled that the water was hot. I swallowed, my throat so dry and tight, desire racing through me as if it were trying to get to the finish line.

Once I had the water poured and the teabags in the mugs, I turned and faced him, cups in hand.

He was already staring at me, completely unaffected that he was nearly naked in front of me. I felt myself blushing even more.

The closer I got, the way he watched me, his head slightly lowered, his eyes trained right on me, told me maybe I wasn’t hiding my emotions very well. And then when I was a foot from him, holding out the cup of tea, I watched as his nostrils flared slightly and he inhaled deeply. Shivers raced up my arms and legs, and I realized—remembered—he was a bear shifter.

There was no denying or hiding the fact I was aroused right now.

For a suspended moment, he didn’t even move, didn’t take the mug out of my hand. He just watched me, continuing to inhale deeply, as if taking my scent into his body. This moment seemed very primal and wild, and the longer I stared at him, the more I saw the subtle changes in his body.

His muscles seemed to become more pronounced, his features more brutal. His eyes flashed dark, the light blue irises being swallowed up by the pupils before retracting and becoming blue again. And I knew without him telling me, without really knowing much about shifters or what they went through during the change, that I was witnessing his bear trying to push forward, trying to gain supremacy.

I knew that as well as I knew myself. And it was such a strange thing to be so positive about.

He finally took the mug and I occupied myself with grabbing one of the towels I’d set on the couch. I picked up the one he’d already used to dry off, the terrycloth damp and smelling of him.

Fresh. Clean. Like the forest.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, and I couldn’t help but see the way his abdomen clenched, his six-pack becoming even more pronounced. I sat down and held my mug with both hands, staring at the fire because if I didn’t focus on that, I’d be checking him out. And that would be grossly inappropriate.

I’d hired him to renovate my home, not to eye him up and down like a piece of meat.

Long moments passed and I felt his gaze on me, knew he was watching me even though I wasn’t looking at him. And then it was like reality snapped to attention and I finally turned my focus to him. “I’m really thankful you showed up, but I’m surprised you’re here.” A boom of thunder shook the house, and I jumped, a little surprised by how close it sounded.

He moved to sit next to me on the couch, and instinctively I shifted a little so that I could look at him. I set my mug on the table and swallowed, the silence moving between us, this knowing feeling claiming me. The way he looked at me, the vibes I got from him, had me feeling like this moment was so intimate, so important and profound.