Nero lay with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of his mate’s breathing. His mate. A smile spread across his face. She is incredible , his bear said happily, relieved that Sophie had accepted. He still dreamed of the feel of her fingers through his bear’s fur. Of her lips on his forehead.
“Are you staring at me?” Sophie asked, raising her head from the pillow and looking at him.
“I might be,” he said, and half-turned, kissing her lips.
She nestled closer to him. “This feels like a dream,” she murmured.
He cupped her face in his hand. “I know.”
Sophie inched her head back. “It was real. You turned into a bear, didn’t you?”
Nero was tempted to say no . She had imagined the whole thing, but his bear gave a warning growl. “I did,” he assured her.
Sophie lay back on the pillow and covered her face with her arm. “I should be more shocked.”
“I’m glad you are not,” Nero said.
“And did I really agree to design a menu for the vineyard restaurant?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Yes, you did.”
She groaned and rolled away from him. “I need to get started on the recipes. I’ll need to gather up the ingredients I need and start testing the recipes. There isn’t much time.”
Nero sat up in bed. “I have an idea. There’s a farmers’ market in Bear Bluff today. Why don’t we head over there?”
She looked at him. “Can you spare the time? I feel I am monopolizing you.”
“Monopolize away,” he said, kissing her shoulder and threading an arm around her body to cup her breast in his hand. He tweaked her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and finger.
“That is not helping,” she said, as she bit down on her bottom lip.
“Do you want me to stop?” he murmured as he slid across the bed and kissed the tip of her other nipple before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud.
“No,” she gasped and pushed Nero onto his back before straddling him, her thighs cradling his hips as she positioned herself above him. Her hair fell in a curtain around her face, catching the early morning light that filtered through the windows.
“Let me,” she whispered, taking control as she curled her hand around his hardness.
Nero gazed up at her, mesmerized by the sight of her naked body poised above his. She was magnificent. All soft curves and warm skin flushed with desire. His hands moved to her waist, steadying her as she slowly lowered herself onto him.
They both gasped as their bodies joined. Sophie’s eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting slightly as she took him in completely. For a moment, she remained still, adjusting to the sensation of fullness.
“You feel perfect,” Nero murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
Sophie began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that made Nero’s breath catch.
Her hands rested on his chest as she rose and fell above him, her body undulating like waves against a shore.
He watched her face transform with pleasure, memorizing every expression, every soft sound that escaped her lips.
He reached out and cupped her breasts, his thumbs grazing across her nipples. Sophie arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her. Nero lifted himself slightly, capturing one peaked nipple between his lips, suckling gently as she continued to rock against him.
“Nero,” she breathed, her movements becoming more urgent.
One hand trailed down her stomach, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves where their bodies joined. His thumb circled with gentle pressure, drawing small, deliberate patterns that made Sophie’s rhythm falter. Her thighs trembled against his sides, her breathing quickening.
Sophie’s hips circled in an instinctive dance, seeking more contact, more friction. Nero matched her movements, thrusting upward as she pressed down, creating a perfect counterpoint of pleasure.
“Look at me,” Nero whispered, his free hand cupping her cheek.
Sophie’s eyes opened, dark with passion, meeting his gaze. The connection between them deepened, transcending the physical joining of their bodies. In that moment, it was as if their souls touched, as if he could feel the bond like a physical thing.
His thumb continued its gentle circles as he thrust more firmly, feeling her body tighten around him. Sophie’s movements became erratic, her breathing shallow and quick. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she chased her release.
Then she cried out, her body arching as pleasure crashed over her.
Nero held her steady through the waves of her climax, his hands strong and sure on her hips.
The sight of her abandoned to ecstasy was his undoing.
With a low growl, he thrust upward one final time, his own release pulsing deep within her.
She collapsed onto his chest, her body still trembling with aftershocks. Nero wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as their heartbeats gradually slowed. He pressed soft kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, overwhelmed by tenderness.
“I never knew it could be like this,” Sophie murmured against his skin, her voice filled with wonder.
“Neither did I,” Nero admitted, stroking her back in long, soothing motions. “This is what it means to find your mate.”
They lay entwined, reluctant to separate, until the sunlight grew stronger and the day’s demands could no longer be ignored. Finally, Sophie stirred, propping herself up on his chest to look at him.
“The farmers’ market,” she said with a smile. “We should get going if we want the best selection.”
Nero laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Always thinking about food.”
“Not always,” she replied, pressing a kiss to his chest. “But I do have a menu to create, and time is of the essence.”
With obvious reluctance, they disentangled themselves and prepared for the day. As Sophie showered, Nero made coffee, his movements light with happiness. His bear rumbled contentedly within him, satisfied in a way he had never experienced before.
She accepted us, his bear reminded him. All of us.
Yes, she sure did, Nero agreed, a smile spreading across his face as he relived making love to his mate. Over and over.
An hour later, they were in Nero’s car, heading toward Bear Bluff. Sophie had her notebook open on her lap, jotting down ideas for the vineyard menu as they drove.
“I’m thinking of a five-course progression,” she said, tapping her pen against the page. “Starting with something light. Then building through the courses to reflect the wine making process, from the vines to the finished product.”
As she spoke, sketching her culinary vision with growing excitement, Nero found himself falling even deeper in love with this remarkable woman. She had faced the impossible—the revelation of his true nature—and instead of running away, had embraced it completely. Had embraced him completely.
Nero pulled into the farmers’ market parking lot, finding a spot beneath the shade of an old oak tree. The market buzzed with activity—colorful canopies stretching across the open field, shoppers milling between stalls laden with fresh produce, artisanal goods, and local crafts.
“Ready?” he asked, turning to Sophie, who was still scribbling notes in her journal.
She looked up, eyes bright with anticipation. “Absolutely. I have a list of everything I need for the test recipes.”
“Already?” he asked as they got out of the car.
“What can I say?” she asked as she pulled on her sunhat. “I have found inspiration since I came to Bear Creek.”
“You have?” he asked with a seductive smile.
“I have,” she said as Nero reached for her hand without thinking. She slid her fingers into his and leaned into him.
His bear gave a contented huff. Ours.
The scent of fresh bread and roasting coffee greeted them as they entered the market. Sophie was already scanning the stalls, her attention caught by plump fruits and baskets of freshly cut herbs.
“Sophie? Sophie Truro?” a woman’s voice called out from a nearby vegetable stand.
Sophie turned, her expression shifting to pleased recognition. “Hello there! How are you?”
The older woman beamed, wiping her hands on her apron. “I thought that was you! I’ve been following your recipes for ages. Those preserved lemons you showed how to make last winter changed my cooking completely.”
Nero watched as they chatted about zucchini gluts and potted mint. She sure was a natural. And she was his.
“You’re more famous than you let on,” Nero murmured as they moved on to the next stall.
Sophie blushed. “Hardly famous. Just...recognized sometimes.”
But it happened again at the honey vendor, where the beekeeper not only knew who Sophie was, but pulled out his phone to show her a dish he’d made following one of her recipes. And again at the mushroom stall, where the forager asked for a selfie with “Eat it Simple Sophie.”
Nero hung back slightly, arms gradually filling with bags of produce as Sophie selected the perfect ingredients—heirloom tomatoes still warm from the sun, fragrant bundles of fresh herbs, wild mushrooms with earthy complexity.
He watched with quiet pride as she engaged with each vendor, asking knowledgeable questions about growing conditions and seasonality.
At the berry stand, a small crowd had gathered around Sophie as she explained different ways to preserve summer fruits. Her hands moved expressively as she spoke, her face animated with genuine enthusiasm. Several women had their phones out, recording her impromptu tutorial.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” the berry vendor said to Nero, nodding toward Sophie.
“She is,” Nero agreed proudly.
“You must be the fiancé,” the woman continued with a knowing smile. “From that proposal video.”
Nero started to correct her, then simply smiled. “I am.”
You sure need to get that ring finished and on Sophie’s finger, his bear told him.
I do, Nero said, wanting nothing more than to propose for real.
When Sophie finally extracted herself from her admirers, cheeks flushed with excitement, she returned to his side with a basket of perfect blackberries.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I get carried away sometimes.”
“Don’t apologize,” Nero replied, shifting his load to accommodate the new purchase. “I love watching you in your element.”
As they continued through the market, a young woman approached hesitantly, smartphone clutched in her hand. “Excuse me... Eat it Simple with Sophie?”
Sophie smiled warmly. “I am.”
“Could I possibly get a selfie with you? Your videos helped me learn to cook when I moved out on my own.”
“Of course!” Sophie handed her latest purchases to Nero, who added them to his growing collection of bags and baskets.
He stepped back, watching as Sophie posed with the young woman, their heads together as they smiled for the camera. Then another fan approached, and another, each with a story about how Sophie’s recipes had made a difference in their lives.
When she finally turned to him, eyes bright with inspiration and arms reaching to relieve him of some bags, he shook his head.
“I’ve got them,” he assured her. “Find everything you need?”
“More than I expected,” she replied, her smile filled with gratitude that extended beyond the simple act of carrying bags. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Thank you for letting me be part of this,” he answered, the words carrying deeper meaning than just the morning’s shopping.
As they walked back toward the car, Sophie’s hand slipped into his free one, and Nero knew with absolute certainty that he would stand on the sidelines for her, watching her flourish, cheering her on from the wings—or hauling bags of produce, as needed—for the rest of their lives together.
And that, he thought, was the greatest privilege he could imagine.