Holly’s Grizzly (Monster Relations Bureau #4)

11

Holly

I wake up back in my own personal furnace, tucked tight into Irving’s arms and surrounded by the warmth and the scent of him.

Only this time we’re not tangled on a couch, but in his bed.

Bundled close and cozy under flannel sheets and a huge quilt that looks like it was handmade, I nuzzle into him and brush my cheek against the springy, coarse hair on his chest.

Dimly, I remember him carrying me up here last night after he gave me two of the most incredible orgasms of my life. I remember him tucking us both into bed and kissing my forehead, my cheeks, making sure I was comfortable and safe.

In my dreamy, half-sleeping state, it makes me think of all the times I’ve gone without that kind of care from a partner.

How many times have I felt like I was begging for every single crumb in my relationships?

It wasn’t even just with Cody, if I’m being honest. It’s a pattern I’ve let myself slip into too many times—accepting less than I want, less than I deserve, always settling. Always being the one to plan and carry the mental load, to do the emotional labor without ever truly feeling like I was getting the same in return.

I glance up at Irving.

These few days we have together aren’t… real. They’re like something out of a made-for-TV holiday movie, cozy and warm and temporary.

I shouldn’t be reading so far into things, shouldn’t be holding up the care and attention he’s shown me in the last forty-eight hours against all my past relationships like it means something.

But I’ll be damned if I can make my soft, wounded heart believe that.

And maybe I don’t have to. Maybe I can just enjoy this brief respite from reality for what it is.

An exhale. A chance to slow down and catch my breath, let myself be cared for and handled with all the wonderful, aching tenderness Irving’s shown me and not expect it to be anything more than what it is.

I’ll be gone when the snow stops falling, when the mountain roads are passable again.

But until then?

Until then I’m going to savor every single second of this.

I turn my attention back to the big, handsome bear shifter beneath me.

Irving is sleepy and warm and still smells like mountain pine and crisp winter snow—a scent I want to bottle up and take with me when I go.

When he feels me stirring, a low rumble reverberates in his chest, and he lays a hand on my back to keep me still.

“It’s too early,” he mutters. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

I just hum in reply. My hand wanders beneath the covers, tracing the expanse of his chest, his abdomen, brushing over the soft planes of his stomach before dipping lower and—

“Holly.” Irving’s half-hooded eyes are dark with warning, his tone graveled and husky, sending a shiver down my spine.

“You didn’t give me a chance to explore last night,” I say, leaning up to press a kiss on his bearded jaw, his neck, dragging my teeth across his skin. “Are you going to ruin my fun?”

My fingers creep lower, teasing at the hair low on his belly before I reach under the waist of his boxer-briefs, wrap them around the base of his cock, and squeeze.

Irving sucks in a harsh breath and his hips jerk off the bed, thrusting into my grip.

All that power coiled in his muscles, the broad expanse of his strength, the throbbing heat of his cock where I have my fingers wrapped around him, it thrills me. It makes a low, slow heat build in my pussy and the rest of me ache with the need to make him feel as good as he made me.

I stroke him again and he growls, hands fisting into the sheets like he’s trying to keep himself from grabbing me. It’s another shot of wicked power straight into my veins, and even though I’m already beyond drunk on it, I want more.

Kissing a trail down Irving’s throat, I ease the covers back with my free hand. In the gray morning light streaming in through the skylight, it puts him on full display.

God, he’s beautiful.

I don’t know where to look first, what to touch first, but I decide to start with the most obvious. Reaching down, I slide his boxers and pajama pants lower, biting back a moan when the rigid length of his cock springs free.

Considering what I have in mind this morning, that moan is half admiration, half intimidation. But I’m not about to chicken out now.

I take my time exploring every inch of him. From the soft springy hair on his chest to the happy trail leading all the way down below his navel, I kiss and lick and nip at him until he seems to be just as far gone as he had me last night. Hands still fisted in the sheets, eyes screwed shut, he lets out a hissing breath when I finally make it to his cock.

I get my lips around the tip of him and his hips jerk again, forcing him a few inches into my mouth. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, just a surprise, and I gasp and pull back, only to find Irving looking at me with a mixture of horror and embarrassment in his eyes.

“Holly,” he says, breathless. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright,” I hastily assure him.

I reach one hand up to grasp his where it’s knotted in the sheets. Irving loosens his grip, tangles his fingers with mine, and some of the panic melts from his expression as he takes a deep, steadying breath.

“You’re just a little bigger than I’m used to,” I murmur as I lower myself back to his cock. “But I think I can manage.”

“Holly,” he groans as I get my mouth on him again, relaxing my jaw as I take one thick inch, then two, then three, working my tongue over him as I try to get used to his size.

I flick my eyes up, and satisfaction courses through me. Head thrown back, an expression of tortured pleasure on his face, I make it my singular goal in life to take this grizzly apart.

I’m still nowhere near able to take the full length of him into my mouth, but I give it my best try and get creative with my hands, my tongue, stroking him in time with the bob of my head up and down his thick shaft.

Irving lets out a strangled shout as he comes, the hot, thick ropes of his release lashing the back of my throat. All his straining muscles tremble and shake, the taut lines of his throat and almost painful-looking pleasure on his face flooding me with triumph.

At least until his dark brown eyes flick open, hungry and entirely focused on me.

He moves faster than I can react, reaching for me and pulling me into his embrace, flipping our positions so I’m sprawled out on the bed.

And then it’s not triumph filling my veins, but more of that heady, unimaginable pleasure as he takes his time easing his way down my body. With lips and tongue and teeth and all the patience in the world, he takes me apart.

Irving and I are in no hurry to get out of bed.

Even after he gives me two more toe-curling orgasms, and even as the watery light of dawn turns to full day through the skylight, we stay cuddled and close, luxuriating in each other and in having nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing that needs our attention but this.

It gives my mind time to wander.

From all the delicious moments we shared last night, to the day we spent together, back to him finding me in the woods.

I run my hands over the hairy planes of his chest, remembering how massive he was in his other form, how terrifying. My touch makes a low growl of pleasure reverberate in his chest, and it’s just another reminder of how superhuman he truly is.

“Can I…” I start, face flushing when I realize what I almost just asked him.

“Can you what, sweetheart? Because there’s not a whole hell of a lot I’d say no to if you asked.”

“Can I see him? Your grizzly? Or would that not be safe?”

I don’t know all the ins and outs of how shifting works, but from what Nora and Kenna have told me, a shifter’s animal takes over at least a little while they’re in a full shift. I’m not sure what that would mean for Irving, or for me, if I came face to face with his grizzly again, but I’m too curious not to ask.

Irving considers for a moment. “I don’t think you’d be in any danger.”

“Really?”

He huffs a soft laugh. “Really. Anyone or anything who tried to hurt you, though, would be a different story. My grizzly, well, he’s a little protective of you.”

“Just him?” I tease, and that growl kicks up again.

“Not just him,” Irving murmurs, kissing me with an unhurried intensity that makes my chest ache.

We finally disentangle from each other a few long minutes later and head downstairs.

Though my deliciously achy muscles protest at leaving the warmth of his bed, I’m spurred on by my excitement and my painful curiosity to get a better look at him in his shifted form.

I start pulling on my winter clothes, but when Irving follows me down from the loft, he’s still completely naked. All burly strength and coarse dark hair, thick cock swinging between his thighs and a knowing, satisfied look on his face when he catches me staring.

“You ready?” he asks, and I give him an enthusiastic nod before following him outside.

Irving paces to the middle of the clearing in front of his cabin before turning to face me. He looks rugged and magickal out here in the snow, completely unbothered by the cold and looking at me with something warm and admiring in his eye as he gives me one last warning before he shifts.

“I’m ready,” I confirm again, a heartbeat before my breath catches in my throat at the sight in front of me.

Irving’s whole body trembles with the magick of his shift, and it happens almost faster than my eyes can process what I’m seeing. One second he’s there, standing in the snow, and the next a massive grizzly has taken his place, even bigger than in my hazy, half-frozen memories.

Despite his assurances I wouldn’t be in any danger, I freeze, feet rooted to the snowy ground as the bear lumbers forward. I fight the very real urge to flee from the danger in front of me, heart leaping into my throat when he reaches me and nudges my hand with his big, furry head.

“Hi,” I whisper, reaching down to remove my glove.

I run my bare fingers through his fur, and a very familiar rumble kicks up in his chest. Huge brown eyes meet mine, the same ones I’ve been so captivated by for the last two days.

With how enormous he is, I barely have to lean down at all to rest my cheek against his soft fur. I move my hand to stroke down the side of his neck, and Irving’s grizzly rumbles again, a soft, contented sound in the crisp winter air.

A bubble of incredulous laughter rises in my throat, more awe at just how impossible all of this is.

We stay that way for a little while, touching and nuzzling and wondering at the magick between us, until he shifts back and swings me up into his arms. A wide, devastatingly handsome grin spreads across his face as he carries me back inside, and it’s just one more tender squeeze in my already aching heart.

The magick between us lasts for the rest of the day.

It’s enough that even the quiet voice of realism in the back of my mind has gone silent. Any doubts, any reservations, any reminders that all of this is going to end sooner rather than later are shut away, tucked behind a door I latch tight and lock firmly.

They can wait for now.

We spend the day lazing and lounging, touching and kissing and basking in the fire’s warmth. The snow has lightened to a few soft flurries, and with temps set to be on the rise through the night and into tomorrow, it’s likely the roads will clear soon.

But I’m not thinking about that right now.

I’m thinking about Irving. I’m thinking about how easy this all feels, how natural, how wonderful. Even when I belatedly remember mid-way through the day that it’s Christmas Eve, and shoot a couple of texts off to family and friends, I still feel like I’m exactly where I need to be.

Here, right here, with him.

My lazing turns into a late afternoon nap on the couch in front of the fire, and when I wake, it’s fully dark outside. I sit up and look around, searching for Irving, and he reappears through the back entryway.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, holding out a hand and helping me up.

I follow him across the room to the big wall of windows.

“Stay here,” he tells me. “And put your hands over your eyes.”

I toss him a questioning look, but do as he says. His footsteps echo across the floorboards, pausing for a moment before I dimly sense the room plunge into darkness on the other side of my hands.

“No peeking,” he calls from somewhere on the other side of the room.

“I’m not,” I say with a laugh.

Another few silent moments pass before his footsteps return. The warmth of him washes over me a split-second before his hands brace my shoulders, turning me so I’m fully facing the window.

“Alright, you can look.”

My hands fall away and my eyes go wide.

There, in the center of the clearing, framed perfectly by the window, is a brightly lit tree. The quintessential pine, strung with lights and casting the surrounding snow in a warm golden glow.

“I hang the lights over my back patio in the summer,” Irving says, and when I crane my neck to look at him, there’s a bit of bashful color on his cheeks. “And I thought they could work for this, too. I know it’s probably not the kind of Christmas tree you’re used to, but—”

His words cut off when I turn and throw my arms around his neck. He bands his own around me, lifting me up so I’m on my tiptoes as I bury my face against his throat.

“Thank you,” I croak. “For all of this, thank you.”

“You never have to thank me, Holly. It makes me happy to make you happy.”

My heart feels at least two sizes too big in my chest, and Irving is suddenly a blur in front of me. At least until I reach up with a small, hiccuping laugh and self-consciously wipe the tears away.

He curls his hand around my jaw. “Why tears, sweetheart?”

“I just… all of this is… I never thought I’d…” The words come out in a jumble, filled with more shaky tears that Irving uses a thumb to swipe away. “I’m just really happy.”

Happy isn’t anywhere near strong enough a word for what it is I feel, and all of this is still a tangle. So fast, but achingly real, this connection between us. Something new and familiar. Foreign and just like home.

And by the way Irving nods—his warm brown eyes soft and knowing, like all of this makes just as much impossible sense to him—I’m not alone in that feeling.

We’re here. Together.

Right now, none of the rest of it matters.

It feels as natural as breathing to lean up on my tiptoes and wind my arms around his neck, to kiss him and taste the certainty in the smile on his lips, to draw him down to the rug in front of the fire and lose myself in him.

In the sparkle of the lights and the flickering of the flames, in the wonderful warmth of him, there’s only me and Irving and nothing else in the world seems to matter.

It’s all I want, and I take it without a moment of hesitation.