his life and past she'd gotten from the overheard conversation gave her some sense of the man. The rational part of her brain knew that there was so much more yet to find out. Would she like what she found? Her heart screamed yes while her mind was aware of the risks, but it seemed not to matter. Whether she liked it or not, fate had already set her on this path with no choice in the matter.
Having already removed his hooded sweatshirt and finding that he wasn't wearing anything underneath, she couldn't believe her luck. All the fantasies that had crept up on her during those dark hours just before it was time to get up in the morning were coming true. His body was a work of art. Hard, chiseled lines and fluid curves of muscle that could put a Greek god to shame.
Derek McMillan was the kind of man who could have easily been cast as a Gladiator in Spartacus, a show Clarice had watched less for its artistic merit and more for the eye candy. The only difference was that he wasn't as smooth and artificially well-oiled as the actors in the show, which Clarice thought was a good thing.
Here in front of her stood not a photoshopped fantasy of a man, but a real one. Hers.
As he started to remove one of the last barriers between them, Clarice's t-shirt and jeans, it occurred to her that this was usually the point in new relationships that she'd dread the most. Although she didn't like to dwell on her insecurities, she couldn't always suppress the worry that a new partner might not like her as much naked as they seemed to with her clothes on. She always feared to see a little flinch or frown, or worse, complete indifference as Alan had shown towards the end.
Derek was unlike any other partner Clarice had been with, though. He didn't just continue on the path they'd set for themselves, kissing, tasting, and worshiping every inch of her exposed skin. He did so with an enthusiasm she couldn't even have foreseen in her wildest dreams.
When she looked at his expression, as he circled her nipple with his tongue, she couldn't see a hint of hesitation or disappointment in him. Everything was right between the two of them, just as it should be. They were both equally in awe of the perfection they'd found in each other.
He stopped what he was doing when he noticed her staring at him, then cupped her face again for further kisses. The urgency with which he pressed his lips against hers made her heart ache for him. Never before had she felt so wanted, so needed, so...
"I've never felt this way before," she whispered.
He didn't answer, not using words anyway. Instead he scooped her up into his arms, sweeping her off her feet figuratively as well as literally. Only two words entered her mind, their connection growing even clearer than before.
Me neither.
She felt weightless and unusually small again as he carried her through the dark lounge and down the hall, back into the bedroom she'd woken up in just minutes earlier. He laid her down on the soft covers, crawling on top of her on all fours. She was ready, as was he, to consummate their union in every possible way.
Chapter Eleven
Derek gazed down at Clarice's face. She looked beautiful, almost angelic if he ignored the bruise on her forehead. Her hair was fanned out over the pillow, and her eyes glistened in the soft candle light. The rest of her was equally perfect.
He'd never thought much about it before, what his dream woman would look like, but he knew already that Clarice was all he'd ever want. Her endless curves invited exploration of a more tactile kind, whether using fingertips or even his lips, and he could no longer resist her. Both bear and man wanted just one thing, to claim her and make her his.
It was impossible not to think of her in terms of his mate, the one fate had picked out for him, but even otherwise she was an attractive woman. The fact that she didn't act like she knew made her even more irresistible. Derek appreciated beauty like the next guy - bear or human-