Page 17 of The Bear’s Second Chance Mate (Bear Creek Forever: Thornberg Vineyard #5)

Claim me . Did she actually say that?

The words hung between them, and June felt a jolt of electricity surge through her. Stanley’s gaze searched her face, and she held his eyes without hesitation, only desire, certainty, and something that felt very much like love.

Which was ridiculous since she barely knew him.

But was that true? She might have only known Stanley for a few days, but it felt as if she’d known him her whole life.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice rough with need.

June nodded, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed to hear. In one fluid movement, he scooped her up in his arms, and she felt a rumble of triumph vibrate through his chest. He might have had his reasons for not telling her about them being mates. But now that she knew the truth, there was no hesitation at all.

Only desire. A deep yearning desire, she could see it in his eyes. Dark and dangerous, as if he were consumed by some ancient, primal force to claim his mate and make her his.

Her arms threaded around his neck, and she buried her face against his throat, breathing in the heat of him as he carried her up the porch steps. Shouldering the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside, kicking the door shut before he strode down the hallway to the stairs.

As he climbed them, she kissed his neck, nuzzling him as she inhaled his scent. Wood smoke and pine, and maybe a dog. She smiled to herself. How Oli was going to love it here with all the animal companions he could ever dream of.

But tonight, there was only one companion June desired. And that was Stanley.

He reached the top of the stairs and carried her down the hallway, moving with purpose until he reached the first door on the right. He shouldered it open, revealing a bedroom bathed in moonlight filtering through sheer curtains.

June took in the room, his room , as he set her down, his hands steadying her when her knees felt weak with anticipation. It was simple yet beautiful, a sturdy wooden bed frame that looked handcrafted, a plain dresser, a chair in the corner with a book splayed open on its seat.

No feminine touches softened the space, no signs that any woman had ever claimed this space before her.

It felt distinctly Stanley. Functional, simple, with no attempt at pretense.

His space. But as his eyes locked with hers, she knew it was now their space.

Stanley set her down gently, his hands lingering at her waist as she found her footing. Her legs felt unsteady. Whether from desire or the intensity of everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then Stanley cupped her face in his large hand, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone with surprising tenderness.

June leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before opening again to find him still watching her with that intense, hungry look.

He lowered his head and kissed her. The gentleness of before was gone. This kiss consumed her, claimed her, and June responded with equal fervor.

His hand slid beneath her sweater, finding her breast, cupping it in his palm as his thumb circled her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra.

Heat bloomed deep in her core, spreading outward until she felt it everywhere.

She squeezed her thighs together, seeking some relief from the ache building between them.

Stanley broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he sensed her movement.

Without a word, he guided her backward until she sat on the edge of the bed.

He dropped to his knees before her, his large hands sliding up her thighs before deftly unbuttoning her slacks.

She lifted her hips as he tugged them down, his fingers skimming her skin as he removed them completely.

Her panties followed, and then his hands were on her knees, gently but firmly pressing them apart.

He lowered his head, and the first touch of his mouth against her core sent a jolt of pleasure so intense that June gasped.

His tongue moved against her with devastating precision while his fingers slipped inside, curling to find the spot—that perfect spot, that made June’s hips buck against his mouth.

“Stanley,” she moaned, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him closer as the pressure built inside her. Her world narrowed to the sensations he created, the warmth of his mouth, the masterful stroke of his fingers against her inner walls, and the exquisite tension coiling tighter and tighter.

Slowly, he carried her toward release, his movements unhurried yet relentless.

When her release came, it crashed through her in waves, her body clenching around his fingers as she cried out his name.

Stanley did not ease up, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to prolong her pleasure.

Only when she was completely spent and lay back on the bed, trembling and breathless, did he sit back on his heels, his eyes never leaving hers.

Then he stood and began to undress. June watched through half-closed eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a broad chest dusted with dark hair. His hands moved to his belt. As his jeans pooled on the floor at his feet, his arousal was evident and impressive.

Licking her lips, June sat up and pulled her sweater over her head before reaching behind to unclasp her bra. It fell away, and Stanley’s gaze darkened further as he took in the sight of her. He moved toward her then, gathering her in his arms and laying her back against the pillows.

They explored each other with hands and mouths, learning what pleased, what teased.

June’s fingers wrapped around his hardness, feeling him pulse against her palm as she stroked him.

His mouth found her breast, tongue circling her nipple before drawing it between his lips, sending sparks of pleasure straight to her core.

Then she shifted beneath him, opening her thighs as she guided him to her entrance, needing to feel him inside her. Stanley entered her slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as he filled her completely. He began to move with long, deep thrusts that made her gasp with each stroke.

“You feel perfect,” he murmured against her skin, his tongue tracing patterns around her nipple before sucking it into his mouth again. He seemed in no hurry, taking his time as if they had forever—and perhaps they did.

June ran her hands over his shoulders, down his back, feeling the play of muscles as he moved above her.

Her fingers found his nipple, teasing it the way he’d done to her, and she was rewarded with a low growl that vibrated through his chest. He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his body as he drove into her with increasing urgency.

The pleasure built again, more intense than before. June raised her knees, changing the angle so that each thrust brushed against her most sensitive bundle of nerves.

Stanley sensed the change, adjusting his movements to match her need. She was close, so close—and then she was falling, clenching around him as her release washed over her in powerful waves.

Stanley’s rhythm faltered, his movements becoming more urgent.

He thrust once more, deep and powerful, and she felt him pulse inside her as he filled her with his essence with a triumphant growl that rumbled through his chest. In that moment, she knew she had been claimed—body and soul—and she wanted nothing more than to be claimed by him every day for the rest of her life.

As they lay tangled together, heartbeats gradually slowing, June traced lazy patterns on his chest. The connection between them felt both ancient and brand new, as if their souls had always known each other but were only now reunited.

“I never thought I’d find you,” Stanley whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I wasn’t even looking,” June admitted, smiling against his skin. “But here we are.”

“Here we are,” he echoed, his arms tightening around her.

June nestled closer to Stanley, her body still tingling with aftershocks of pleasure. The weight of his arm across her waist felt right, as though it had always belonged there.

But they hadn’t always belonged together. She knew little about the mating bond and what exactly it meant. Which left questions that needed to be asked before she gave in to the mating bond completely. Not just for her sake, but for Oli’s.

“And what comes next?” she asked, her voice soft in the quiet room.

Stanley’s fingers traced lazy circles on her hip. “Whatever you want.”

She tilted her head to look up at him. “What about what you want?”

His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer against his chest. “I already have everything I want.”

June chuckled and pressed herself against him, feeling the steady thump of his heart against her back. “You say the sweetest things.”

He lifted his head and kissed her, his lips gentle at first, then more insistent.

The embers of desire flared to life once more.

His hand moved to her breast, thumb teasing her nipple until it hardened beneath his touch.

June moaned softly against his mouth, her hand sliding down between them to curl her fingers around his hardness, already growing firm again.

However, the clock on the nightstand caught her eye, and she pulled away with a reluctant sigh.

“I have to get home before Oli wakes up,” she said, regret coloring her voice. “And I really should get some sleep.” Even though the last thing she wanted to do was get out of Stanley’s bed.

“I understand,” Stanley said, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

Of course he does, she thought. This man, who had waited so patiently for her, who had put her son’s needs before his own desires, would never make her choose.

Stanley smiled at her, his hand still resting on her breast, unwilling to break contact. June felt the heat of his palm against her skin, and her resolve wavered. She sighed and took his hand, guiding it slowly down her body, past her stomach to rest between her thighs.

“But we still have a few minutes,” she whispered.

Stanley raised himself up on one elbow, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked down at her. “You would be astonished at what a shifter can do with a few minutes with his mate.”

A shiver ran down her spine at the possessive rumble in his voice. “Show me,” she whispered.

And he did.