Page 19 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar (Uncle Uzzi’s Date to Mate #3)

Tamare

I ’m floating.

Or I think I am.

There’s a weightlessness to my limbs, a dreamy kind of stillness—except I’m also very aware of the warmth pressed against me.

Hard, strong, and very much alive.

“Keep it up, Pretty Girl,” a voice rumbles against the shell of my ear, low and dark and teasing, “and I’ll forget to be a gentleman.”

My eyes snap open.

“ Dane? ” I whisper, blinking fast as reality crashes back in—only to find myself in his arms.

Like literally cradled against his bare chest, tucked beneath a blanket I don’t remember crawling under.

He grins.

That damn dimple on the left side of his mouth should come with a warning.

Like danger ahead or proceed with caution, certain smiles may cause you to lose your heart in glowing red lights.

“Hi,” he growls— literally.

“Hi? Hi? ” I gape, pushing up on one elbow. “You’re back! And you’re not, um, not furry !”

His smile tilts, amusement dancing in those gold-flecked eyes.

“Nope. Not furry anymore.”

“Where are we going?”

“You seemed like you’d be more comfortable in bed, though.”

“In bed. Oh, you mean your bed ,” I repeat, looking around to see we are in his room.

“Is that okay?” he asks, and I hear it. Vulnerability.

It reaches me somewhere deep down and since I realize I’m still fully dressed— just slightly rumpled —and he’s carrying me like I weigh ninety pounds instead of a buck ninety.

Gulp.

“I carried you up after our little moonlight run. You kinda passed out on the sofa.”

“I did?”

He shrugs, casual, like this is normal.

“Shock’ll do that.”

I groan and drop my face into my hands.

“Oh my God. I fainted. Like a Victorian maiden.”

“Only way sexier,” he offers, voice full of teasing affection. “Nah, you just fell asleep. But, honestly? You handled it better than most normals would’ve.”

“I—wait.” I lift my head. “So that was real? Your son is a Shifter ? And you both— you turned into a giant, um, golden murder cat?”

“Golden murder cat? Cute. Actually, we’re both Cougars,” he corrects gently. “Big difference. We don’t murder. Well. Mostly .”

I blink.

“And yes. It was real, Tamare.”

He leans forward, placing me on the bed, then moving right beside me.

“I know,” I reply.

God, he is so good to look at. And I’m really trying not to notice that he’s completely butt ass naked.

But it’s hard— literally.

And I’m human— he just said so .

But, fuck, I really want him. I just feel confused. Overwhelmed.

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Everything I told you, everything you saw—no illusions. No drugs. No spells. Just the truth.”

I want to laugh. Or cry.

Maybe both.

Instead, I whisper, “So I’m not crazy.”

He tilts his forehead against mine. “No, Pretty Girl. You’re extraordinary. And you’ve been dropped into an extraordinary world. But I’ll walk you through all of it. I swear.”

The sincerity in his voice unravels something in me.

“I think, I mean—I might need some time,” I murmur. “This is a lot.”

“I know.” His hands cup my face.

“Take all the time you need. But I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Alex. And neither is what’s between us.”

I suck in a shaky breath.

“What about that?” I ask, nodding at his hard cock just sitting there between us.

“That? It happens all the time when I’m near you,” he confesses, and fuck, his cheeks go ruddy.

“It does?”

He nods.

“And is this the part where you tell me I’m your fated mate again?”

He grins. “Only if you want to hear it.”

I should be terrified.

But all I feel is this strange, impossible rightness.

Like my life has been slightly tilted this whole time.

And this? Him?

Alex?

That strange floating head who, now that I think about it, looks suspiciously like the guy on the Date to Mate app?

All of this is what straightened it out.

“Say it,” I whisper.

His lips brush mine, reverent and soft.

“You’re mine, Tamare. My fated mate. And I’m yours.”

Oh.

Wow!

Well, shit.

I might be in trouble.

But maybe it’s the good kind.

I swallow hard, the air thick between us.

He’s still so close.

His gold-flecked eyes are locked on mine, fingertips cradling my face like I’m something precious. Wanted.

And I don’t think I’ve ever had that.

My heart stutters.

My body leans in before my brain catches up.

Or maybe it’s my soul making the first move.

Because when his mouth brushes mine again, it’s not careful or questioning.

It’s hungry.

A soft moan escapes me as I kiss him back with everything I’ve been holding in— every secret look, every whispered longing, every night I’ve lain in that guest room, silently aching to crawl into his.

He groans, deep and guttural, like the sound is being pulled from his chest.

And then he’s kissing me like he needs me to breathe.

Like this is more than just a kiss.

Like this is everything.

When he finally pulls back, I’m panting. Dazed. Needing.

“Tamare,” he rasps, forehead pressed against mine, voice shredded with restraint. “I’ll sleep on the couch. Just say the word.”

It takes a full second for his words to land.

The couch?

No.

Hell no.

I reach for him, fingers curling into that smooth skin of his, tracing the lines of muscle like I’ve got any control over my life right now.

“Don’t go,” I whisper, my voice barely there. “Not tonight. I don’t want to be alone.”

His eyes search mine, burning with emotion. “You sure?”

“Yes.” I nod, heart pounding so loud I can barely hear myself think. “I don’t know what this is going to be. But I know I don’t want you to leave.”

“If I stay, I’ll want to mark you. Claim you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll make you mine, Pretty Girl. I can’t do halfway with you.”

“So, you’re asking me to decide right now? All or nothing?”

My heart is pounding, and I feel like I’m about to lose out on something big. Something I don’t quite understand.

“Shit. No, I’m not forcing you or pressuring you. I’m sorry, Baby. I just,” he stops, and struggles to calm himself.

His arms wrap around me again, tight and warm, as he tucks me against his chest.

I feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm.

And when he leans down to kiss me again, it’s softer. Sweeter.

“If you want me to, then I’ll stay,” he murmurs against my lips. “All night. Right here. And we don’t have to do anything you don’t want, Tamare.”

And just like that, I relax. I melt into him.

No more pretending.

No more running.

Just warmth. Trust. Desire.

And the terrifying, beautiful possibility that this might just be the start of everything .