Page 16 of The Bear’s Matchmaking Mix-up Mate (Bear Creek Forever:Thornberg Vineyard #6)

Wren woke to the now familiar sounds of Rowan Cottage and the unfamiliar feel of her body curled against Finn’s solid chest. His steady heartbeat pulsed beneath her ear, a rhythm more soothing than any song she’d ever written.

She lay still for a moment, simply breathing him in while her heart ached with the sweetness of belonging, and that impossible word: mate .

Last night replayed in her mind. The way the air shimmered as Finn shifted before her eyes. The feel of the bear’s fur beneath her fingers. The revelation of what they were to each other. Fated mates. The words still sent a thrill through her, equal parts wonder and undeniable recognition.

She almost laughed at herself—how could she ever have doubted the truth of it, the truth of her feelings for Finn?

It explained everything. The instant connection she’d felt to him, the feeling of safety she’d never found with anyone else, the way her music had returned as if summoned by his presence.

Finn stirred, his arm tightening around her waist as his eyes fluttered open. His gaze when it landed on her was still hazy with sleep but full of warmth and promise.

And dare she hope…love.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. “You’re really here.”

“I’m really here,” she whispered back, smiling through the lump in her throat, her hand finding his cheek. “Not going anywhere.”

His smile bloomed slow and sweet, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that ignited a fire in her belly. He threaded his fingers through her hair, cradling her head with such tenderness that tears pricked behind her eyelids.

She couldn’t remember ever being held like this, cherished like this, not by anyone.

The kiss deepened as his hands slid down her body, stroking her curves and fanning the flames of her desire. Wren arched into him, her skin tingling as his lips traced a path along her jaw, down her throat, making her gasp when he reached the sensitive spot at the hollow of her neck.

“Finn,” she whispered, her voice catching as his hands moved to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they pebbled under his touch.

Her body responded instantly, a liquid heat pooling between her thighs. She watched through half-closed eyes as he lowered his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. The hot, wet sensation of his tongue circling the sensitive peak sent jolts of pleasure straight to her core.

Wren’s fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against her as he moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. Each swirl of his tongue, each gentle scrape of teeth made her whimper and shift beneath him.

Unable to resist touching him, she slid her hand down between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around his length. The velvet hardness of him pulsed in her palm as she stroked him slowly, delighting in his sharp intake of breath against her skin.

“Wren,” he groaned, his voice raw with need. His hand slid down between their bodies and rubbed his fingers over her mound. She gasped as he circled her most sensitive spot before dipping inside, his touch both gentle and insistent.

The dual sensations—his fingers inside her while his mouth continued to tease her breasts—had her trembling on the edge already. But she wanted more. Wanted all of him.

With a boldness that surprised her, Wren pushed against his shoulders. He moved willingly, rolling onto his back, his eyes dark with desire as she straddled his hips. She positioned herself above him, feeling the blunt tip of his hardness pressing against her entrance.

Their eyes locked as she slowly lowered herself onto him. The delicious stretch of taking him in made her breath catch, her lips parting on a silent gasp. When he was fully seated inside her, filling her completely, she paused, savoring the perfect fullness.

“You’re so beautiful,” Finn whispered, his hands caressing her thighs, her waist, moving up to cup her breasts again.

Wren began to move, finding a rhythm that had them both moaning.

She rolled her hips in slow circles before rising up and sinking back down, taking him deeper with each movement.

The sensation was overwhelming, the friction, the fullness, the sight of Finn beneath her, watching her with such raw adoration.

He sat up suddenly, wrapping one arm around her waist to hold her close while his mouth found her breast again.

His tongue flicked over her sensitive peak with exquisite precision, sending electric pulses straight to her core.

Wren gasped, her body tensing as the sensation built within her, a tightening coil of pleasure that threatened to snap.

Finn’s hands gripped her hips, holding her firmly against him as his mouth continued its sweet torture.

“Oh,” she moaned, her head falling back as the first wave crashed through her. Her inner muscles clenched around him in rhythmic pulses, each contraction more intense than the last. She trembled in his arms, overwhelmed by the force of her climax.

Finn growled against her breast, the vibration sending aftershocks through her still-quivering body.

His hands slid to her bottom, gripping firmly as he began thrusting upward, driving deeper into her, his body tensing beneath hers.

Then with a final, deep thrust, he pulled her down firmly against him and held her there as he pulsed inside her, filling her with his seed.

The sensation triggered another climax that rippled through her unexpectedly, making her cry out his name.

She rocked against him, drawing out their shared pleasure until they were both gasping. As the sensations subsided, she captured his mouth in a deep, sensual kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion she felt into it. Wanting, needing him to know how much he meant to her.

When their kiss broke, Finn brushed her tangled hair away from her face, and his eyes held hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words so simple yet so profound.

Wren’s heart swelled to the point of bursting. She searched his face, finding nothing but honest adoration and absolute certainty. The truth of his words shone in his eyes, unmistakable and unwavering.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back, her voice catching on the words. She ducked her head, pressing her face against his chest as emotion overwhelmed her. His arms tightened around her, holding her close as a shuddering breath moved through her body.

Never had she felt so exposed, so vulnerable. And yet, there was no fear, no urge to hide or retreat. She wanted to stay like this forever.

But then his phone buzzed from where he’d placed it on the nightstand. He glanced at it but didn’t reach for it.

“Do you need to get that?” she asked.

He groaned. “I know what it is.”

“That bad, huh?” she asked, intrigued as to what he was trying to avoid.

“I am supposed to meet Alfie at the garden center to talk over the fundraiser.” He kissed her shoulder. “But I don’t want to leave you.”

“Go,” she urged, although she didn’t want him to. “I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with your family when we tell them I am your mate.”

“Does that mean you are ready to tell them?” he asked, pulling her closer.

“I am,” she said with a nod.

“Yes,” Finn said happily. “It’s been so hard keeping my mate a secret.”

“My mate,” she said with a wide smile.

“My only mate,” he added, kissing her lips.

“Well, your mate is feeling inspired this morning. So, you go meet with Alfie, and I am going to write a song or two. Maybe even three.” “

“Three! You are inspired.” Finn pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I wonder why.”

“You know why,” she murmured and then, teasingly, pulled the covers back and gave him a push. “But if you don’t go now, I don’t think either of us is going to get anything done.”

“I could call in sick,” Finn suggested as he slipped out of bed and grabbed his clothes.

“So tempting.” She rested her hands on her chin as she watched him dress.

“Is that a yes?” he asked as he retrieved his phone from the nightstand.

“No. Now.” She giggled. “The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back.”

“Oh, I’ll be back,” he assured her as he leaned down and kissed her lips before groaning and striding to the door.

She lay still, listening to his footsteps on the stairs, then the sound of the door opening and closing before his truck rumbled to life.

As he drove away, she was tempted to text him and tell him to come back.

But she resisted the urge. She needed time to process what had happened.

And the best way to do that was with her guitar.

She sprang out of bed, eager to get to the studio.

After a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast, Wren showered and dressed, then made her way to her studio.

Sunlight spilled across the floor, warming the wooden boards beneath her bare feet.

She settled at the window seat, guitar in hand, and closed her eyes.

The melody came first, bright and buoyant, rising like the morning sun. Words followed, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to be heard. She scribbled them in her notebook, crossing out and revising, playing the same progression over and over until it felt right.

This wasn’t like the song she’d written for Finn, that one had been about finding courage, about walls coming down. This was pure joy, unfiltered and unafraid. A love song, yes, but also a declaration of freedom. Of finally becoming who she was always meant to be.

For a long while she lost herself in the music, forgetting everything but the joy of creation, the ache of her fingers, the pure delight of finally finding her voice again.

Wren was so lost in the music that when her phone buzzed on the desk, it made her actually jump. She reached for it absently, expecting a message from Finn. Instead, a social media notification lit up the screen:

“Bear Creek Community Garden Fundraiser announces special guest star appearance! Don’t miss this year’s biggest event! Details coming soon!”

Wren’s breath caught in her throat. She tapped the notification, scanning the post with growing unease. There were no specific details—no name mentioned—but her pulse quickened all the same. The words “special guest star” seemed to pulse on the screen, accusatory in their vagueness.

She set down her guitar, suddenly cold despite the warm sunlight. Had Finn arranged this? Was she the “special guest” they were promoting? He wouldn’t do that without talking to her first...would he?

The rational part of her brain tried to argue it could be anyone; it probably wasn’t her at all.

But doubt crept in like a shadow, familiar and unwelcome.

Her last public appearance had ended in disaster, with paparazzi shouting questions about Vince’s infidelity, cameras flashing in her face as she’d tried to escape.

She read the post again, searching for clues. The garden center’s social media account had few followers, mostly locals and plant enthusiasts. It wasn’t likely to draw much attention beyond Bear Creek. Still, the knot in her stomach tightened.

Wren set the phone down and picked up her guitar again, trying to recapture the creative flow from earlier. But the notes fell flat, her fingers suddenly clumsy on the strings. The joy that had infused her songwriting all morning felt muted now, overshadowed by the familiar weight of anxiety.

She tried to push it aside, to focus on the certainty she’d felt in Finn’s arms that morning. He wouldn’t betray her trust. Not Finn. Not her mate.

But old wounds had a way of resurfacing, no matter how much you wanted to believe you’d healed.

She glanced at her phone again; the screen was now dark. She should call him and ask directly. That would put her out of her misery. Or not.

If she didn’t ask, she could still cling to hope. But with each passing moment, her hope faded.