Free Sawman Werebear (Saw Bears #4) by T. S. Joyce Page B

are you, Ever?”
    “I like to please you,” she admitted, “but that’s not the reason I want to be with you. Connor scared me. I thought I would live the rest of my days terrified of attracting that kind of attention from another man.” She propped herself up on her elbows and allowed him to see the honesty in her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, Brighton. I trust you.”
    Adoration pooled in the deep silver of his eyes. She felt beautiful when he looked at her like this, and she smiled as he crawled over her and settled himself on top of her.
    “I think I like you,” he whispered as he dragged his fingers down the length of her collar bone. “You’re different than anyone else I’ve ever met.” He kissed her shoulder. “You’re strong.” Another kiss just below her earlobe. “And beautiful.” His lips pressed against her jaw line. “You see the world differently, and it settles me. Makes me feel like someday I could look at it differently, too.” A nibble to her lobe and a velvet stroke whisper against her ear. “The longer I know you, the more I think I could be good again.”
    Everly cupped his cheeks and searched his eyes, now a mix of silver and green. “I see you, Brighton. You are good.”
    His nostrils flared as he inhaled, as if some emotion was pushing him to calm down. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers and pressed the head of his cock into her. A tiny gasp took her at how good he felt. Brighton had prepared her, taken it slow and easy, made her comfortable, and had worshipped her body before he pushed for this connection. It was that realization that made her remaining fear fall away. He was taking care of her, and inside, she was glowing. She angled her hips and moved with him on his next slow thrust. Gently, he slid into her, filling her. The stretch of her insides didn’t hurt. It felt natural with Brighton. Perhaps because he’d been so careful to make sure she was ready and wet to take him, but more likely, it was because she was falling in love with him, and her body craved to be as close to him as possible. If she only had days left with this man, she wanted to spend them burrowed against him.
    A soft moan left her lips as he eased back, then flexed his hips against her again.
    Brighton’s breath trembled, and his arm muscles twitched with his next stroke, as if his control was slipping. She loved it. To hide her victory smile, she kissed him, pressing her tongue gently against his. With a low hum she’d never heard him make before, he gripped her waist and rolled over, sat up until she was straddling his lap.
    She giggled at how fast he was. Her stomach had dipped as if she were on a roller coaster.
    “You’re running the show now, darlin’. I’m yours,” he whispered.
    “Yeah?” she asked, rolling her hips until his eyes closed.
    He nodded and wrapped his steely arms around her waist, then kissed her lips gently, plucking at them with tiny, sexy smacks until she had to concentrate to control her panting breath. As long, or short, as she lived, she’d never tire of kissing him. Of his taste and the way his lips turned soft for her. Of how eternally sexy his raspy whisper was against her ear. Scars, no voice, it didn’t matter. Brighton was perfect. He was everything that was good in this world, and until right now, she hadn’t known it was possible to live in a stainless moment. But Brighton made things easier, less painful. He made everything that had been blurry in her life clear as a freshwater stream. He made her want more from life.
    She set the pace slow, and he allowed it. He didn’t rush her or beg for her to hurry. He rasped his facial scruff against her neck in an adorable sign of affection she recognized because she had an acute instinct to do the same. His fingers gripped her back, and his powerful hips thrust forward with every stroke she allowed. Pressure built from her middle, tingling from her core through her stomach, shooting pleasure between her legs