Cookies & Claws, page 11
“I’m glad you invited me,” I whisper back, pressing closer, feeling the heat of him against me. “I wasn’t looking forward to spending Christmas alone, even with my big, beautiful tree.”
“Do you parents live far away?” His fingers dance lightly down the side of my face, and I lean into his touch.
“They passed away almost a year ago—in a car accident. This is my first Christmas without them.” I close my eyes as my throat tightens, fighting the wave of melancholy that hits me at the thought.
Benjamin lifts my chin, and I meet his gaze. “Sometimes fate finds a way to help us heal all things. You won’t be alone this Christmas.”
The grandfather clock chimes eleven deep, resonant tones, marking the late hour. Benjamin glances over his shoulder before returning his gaze to mine, a slow smile curling his lips. I cover my mouth as a yawn slips past, the night catching up with me.
“It’s been a long day. We should get to bed,” he says, hand sliding around my waist to draw me closer. He presses a slow, lingering kiss to my lips, the kind that makes it impossible to think about anything else.
“Yes, you’re probably right,” I murmur, though my mind is still reeling from the warmth of his mouth, the brush of his hand, the scent of pine and leather that clings to him.
Benjamin leans closer, lips grazing my ear. “What’s on your mind?” he rumbles, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. He trails soft kisses along my jaw, each one a delicate spark.
“You,” I whisper, my fingers curling into the front of his flannel, aching for him in a way I hadn’t expected. My pulse races, a low hum of need threading through me.
He chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that vibrates against my chest and sends heat pooling between my thighs. I press my forehead to his, savoring the closeness, the electric tension hanging between us.
Benjamin tilts his head, brushing his nose along mine in a soft, intimate nuzzle. “You know,” he murmurs, “I could stand here all night.”
I bite my lip, heart hammering. “I’d let you,” I admit, my voice barely audible.
He smiles, brushing his thumb across my cheek once more before leaning down, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s tender, heated, and impossibly sweet all at once. It says everything without words—promise, desire, and something unspoken, hovering.
Finally, he pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips, “Sleep well, Hazel.”
“Goodnight, Benjamin,” I whisper back, the warmth of his hands still lingering on me as he closes the door softly behind him.
I sink into the soft sheets, heart still racing, cheeks flushed with the memory of his lips and the tension that still hums between us. Lying back, I stare at the ceiling, the snow glittering faintly against the windowpane, thinking of how close he’d been—how warm, how alive he made me feel.
Every thought of him makes it impossible to quiet my mind, but exhaustion finally lulls me into a fitful, dream-filled sleep.
A loud thud jolts me awake. I blink into the darkness of the room, lit only by the silver wash of moonlight streaming through the window. Pulling the down comforter up to my chin, I burrow deeper into the silken sheets, trying to let the warmth lull me back to sleep.
The thud comes again.
With a groan, I roll onto my side and tap the screen of my phone. One a.m. glares back at me in harsh white digits. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to drift off, but my mouth feels parched. Pretzel is curled up on the pillow beside me, fast asleep, blissfully oblivious.
The more I try to ignore it, the drier my throat becomes.
“I knew I should’ve drunk more water before bed,” I mutter, slipping out from under the blankets. My bare feet meet the icy wood floor, and I hiss, scrambling for the fuzzy socks in my bag. I’m tugging one on when another thud rattles the silence.
I freeze, glancing at the window.
“What on earth…?”
Pulling on the second sock, I tiptoe closer and peer outside. Nothing but a pristine blanket of snow glitters back at me, soft and untouched across the ground and clinging to the trees. Probably snow sliding off the roof. Or an elk? Do elk even live around here?
Shaking my head, I creep to the door. The third stair groans under my weight, and I stop, holding my breath. When no one stirs, I take the rest of the steps more carefully, padding into the kitchen.
I’m standing at the sink, pouring milk into a glass, when it happens again—another deep, echoing thud.
Heart thumping, I lift the cold milk to my lips, snagging a cookie from the counter for comfort. On tiptoe, I peek out the kitchen window.
My jaw drops.
Out in the snow, two massive white polar bears are locked in a brutal wrestle. One slams the other against a tree, sending a cloud of snow tumbling down around them. The larger bear plants its paws against the other’s chest, then lifts its head toward the moon and unleashes a roar so loud it rattles the glass.
Polar bears. Not just one—but two. In the Pacific Northwest.
Last I checked, polar bears weren’t supposed to live here.
Did Benjamin know there were polar bears out in these woods?
I look back out the window, but the bears are gone. Had I imagined it? Maybe I’m still half asleep. I finish off my cookie and down the last of the milk before rinsing the glass and setting it in the sink.
I’m turning toward the stairs when the back door through the mudroom rattles. I freeze, one hand on the handrail, heart racing in my chest. Could bears open doors? Before I can decide whether to run upstairs or toward the front of the house, the door bursts open—and I meet the gaze of the larger polar bear.
Except standing less than a dozen paces away, it looks three times the size it had out the window. A scream sticks in my throat as I turn to dash up the stairs.
“Hazel, wait.”
Benjamin’s warm, familiar voice cuts through the air, and I pause, spinning around.
Behind me in the doorway—where moments before a bear had stood—is Benjamin. Except… he’s standing there in nothing. My eyes drop from his face, tracing the sharp lines of his hips to the trail of hair that leads right to his—
I gulp, my cheeks burning as I quickly lift my gaze to his, finding that slightly amused look on his face.
“Bear’s out of the bag now,” Nathan quips over his shoulder, shoving his brother from behind. “Move out of the way—the snow’s starting to come down and I’m freezing my ass off.”
I cover my eyes with both hands as Nathan pushes past Benjamin and takes the stairs behind me two at a time.
“He’s gone now,” Benjamin says, and I peek open an eye to see he’s pulled on a pair of pants—though they leave little to the imagination now that I’ve seen… everything.
“You’re a… you’re a…”
“Bear.” His voice is rough, almost reluctant. “Well—polar bear. This wasn’t exactly how I meant to tell you.” His hand twitches like he wants to reach for me but instead drops to his side, curling into a fist.
“When did you mean to tell me?” My pulse hammers in my ears as the words tumble out. I’d suspected Benjamin and his family weren’t entirely human. But this? Polar bear shifters? I never would’ve guessed.
“I don’t know,” he admits, jaw tight. “There hasn’t exactly been a good time.”
“Then what was your plan?” I hop up onto the counter and cross my arms over my chest, trying to look stern even as heat and nerves twist through me.
“What was the plan? Oh, I just rescued you from a snowstorm and brought you home. By the way, I’m secretly a polar bear. Or maybe—hey, my entire family of bears wants you to stay for Christmas in a cabin hours from town.” His teeth clench, that grumpy lumberjack mask sliding back into place over the soft man who made me cocoa with his gran and helped his mom bake cookies just to make me feel welcome.
“You have a point,” I murmur, softening. My hand finds his forearm, his skin radiating heat despite just coming in from wrestling in the snow. “But… it was pretty amazing watching you take down your brother. Do you always fight like that?”
His gaze flicks to mine. “Sometimes. It’s Christmas Eve tradition to celebrate at midnight in our bear forms. My parents don’t fight anymore—not with Dad’s leg—but they’re still out there. For a while yet.”
Realization trickles through me, and my lips curve slowly. “So… we’re alone?”
His brows arch at my tone, but I don’t give him time to answer. Sliding my hands up into his hair, I tug him closer until our mouths are a breath apart.
“Gran’s asleep down here, and Nathan will leave us alone if he knows what’s good for him.”
I hum in excitement, the sound vibrating between us. “I can think of another way to celebrate.”
A low growl rumbles through his chest as my legs wrap around his waist, drawing me against him. My core presses against the thick, hard length straining beneath his jeans—separated only by two maddeningly thin layers of fabric.
“Hazel…” His voice is strained, warning, but his lips brush the shell of my ear, sending shivers skittering down my spine.
“Are you sure?” The words thrum against my skin, deep and possessive.
“Yes,” I whisper, before doubt can creep in.
His hands clamp around me, strong and certain, and he lifts me effortlessly from the counter. My breath hitches as his mouth claims mine—hungry, heated—as he carries me toward the stairs. My fingers fist in his hair, hips grinding against him, every step stoking the fire between us higher.
By the time we reach the landing, my legs are trembling. He pauses, pressing me against the wall with a thud, hips grinding into mine. The hard ridge of his arousal makes me gasp into his mouth, heat rushing straight to my core.
“Benjamin…” My voice breaks on his name.
He pulls back to meet my eyes, his breath ragged. “Last chance, Hazel. Tell me to stop, and I will.”
Instead, I cup his face in my hands, brushing my lips across his in a whisper-soft kiss. “Don’t stop.”
That’s all it takes. A low growl rolls from his chest, primal and hungry, as he pushes off the wall and carries me the rest of the way. He passes the Opal Room, heads for the next one, kicks open the door, strides across the room, and lays me gently on the dark navy sheets of what can only be his bed.
Benjamin’s bed.
My gaze drinks him in—broad shoulders, chest dusted with hair, muscles shifting beneath his skin. Power, leashed and coiled, just for me.
I sit up, tugging at the hem of my pajamas until he covers my hands with his own. “Let me,” he murmurs, voice thick. He peels the fabric over my head slowly, reverently, like unwrapping a gift. His fingers trail down my bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“You’re beautiful,” he rasps before lowering his mouth to mine again. His kiss is hot, consuming.
I arch beneath him, desperate for more, and his mouth trails down my neck, nipping and sucking until my nipples harden against the thin lace of my bra. He groans at the contact, tugging the straps down with impatient hands before covering one breast with his mouth. The heat of his tongue makes me cry out, back bowing, fingers threading into his hair.
“Benjamin…” The sound is half plea, half moan.
He looks up and whispers, “Tell me what you want.”
“You. All of you.” I wriggle impatiently, my fingers hooking the waistband of his pants, fumbling with the button until he springs free. Benjamin hisses as I wrap my hands around his shaft—and I freeze.
“I’m sorry. Are my hands too cold?” I loosen my grip, moving to pull away.
“No, don’t stop.” He jerks in my slackened hold, and precum glistens at the tip. My tongue darts out as I stare at him, my thumb brushing his velvety head.
“Goddess, you’re… more than I imagined,” I murmur as I stroke him. His fists grip the sheets beside me, letting me explore.
“I’ll go slow,” he says, stiffening before me. “But if you don’t stop, you’re going to make me come.”
I release my grip, and he peels off my leggings and panties, kissing down my thighs, easing me open with gentle hands. The first brush of his mouth against my core makes me gasp, my hips bucking. He chuckles against me—low and wicked—before his tongue dives deeper, stroking and circling until I’m writhing beneath him, clutching the sheets.
Heat builds fast, fierce, coiling tight in my belly. “Benjamin, I’m—”
“Let go for me,” he growls, sliding two thick fingers inside me as his tongue flicks my clit. The combination shatters me. Pleasure crashes over me in waves, my thighs trembling around his head as I cry out his name.
Before I can come down, he’s over me, kissing me hard, letting me taste myself on his lips.
“Are you sure?” he asks again, voice rough with restraint.
“Yes,” I breathe, tugging him closer, wrapping my legs around his hips.
He reaches over and pulls a foil wrapper from the nightstand. With the movement, I catch a glimpse of a tattoo—a giant bear paw spanning his shoulders, the pads shaded in shapes of the forest, mountains, and moon.
“What is that?” I push to my elbows and run a finger along the dark ink contrasting his skin.
He smirks, turning back to face me as he rolls the condom down his shaft. He presses against my entrance, thick and unyielding.
“Do you want this, or to hear the story of my ink?”
“Please, Benjamin,” I moan, all thoughts of his tattoo fading as my hips jerk up, seeking friction.
With a guttural groan, he pushes inside, slow and careful. My nails bite into his shoulders as he buries himself to the hilt, his forehead dropping to mine. He holds still, letting my body adjust to his girth.
“Goddess, Hazel…” His voice hitches on my name. “You feel so damn good.”
He starts to move, slow at first, every stroke deep and deliberate. My body begins to crave more, rocking against him, urging him faster. He growls and obliges, hips snapping harder, deeper.
Every thrust sends sparks shooting through me, the pressure building again—higher and hotter. He kisses me through it, his hand slipping between us to circle my clit. The extra stimulation sends me spiraling, pleasure tearing through me so violently I cry out, shaking beneath him.
Benjamin roars, the sound animalistic and raw, as he follows me over the edge, his body shuddering as he finishes. He collapses against me, chest heaving, still buried deep, his weight a comforting, overwhelming blanket.
For a long moment, we just breathe—tangled together, the world narrowed to the sound of his heart pounding against mine. Then he lifts his head, brushing a kiss to my swollen lips before pulling me to curl into his chest.
“Mine,” he rumbles, tossing the blanket over both of us and kissing the top of my head.
“Yours,” I whisper, clinging to him as the aftershocks fade.
CHAPTER 18
BENJAMIN
“Good morning, beautiful,” I murmur against Hazel’s temple, my voice still gravelly with sleep. She stirs in my arms, lashes fluttering as a slow, lazy smile curls her lips. She shifts closer, her warm body molding perfectly against mine—as if she was made to fit there.
“Just a few more minutes,” she mumbles into my chest.
“As many as you want,” I whisper, tightening my hold around her, fingers tracing idle patterns across her bare back. Her skin is impossibly soft, silken beneath my touch, and the thought of moving—of breaking this fragile morning bubble—feels like a crime.
But I know reality waits for us on the other side of the door. With a sigh, I press a kiss into her hair. “If we don’t go down soon, we’ll never hear the end of it—especially if they peek in and find you not in your bed.” My thumb strokes her spine in featherlight touches, earning a tiny shiver. “Besides, who knows what mischief your little creature is up to alone.”
“He’s not just a creature—he’s a hedgehog,” Hazel corrects, cracking one eye open with mock severity.
The sight of her trying to look stern—hair mussed from sleep, lips still swollen from my kisses—makes something in my chest ache. Then she rolls away, sitting up, the blanket sliding to her waist. Morning light spills across her skin, kissing every curve. Her breasts are bared, rose-tipped peaks begging for my touch.
On instinct, I groan. “On second thought, we could be a few minutes late.” My hand moves before I can stop it, fingers catching her nipple in a gentle pinch.
“Ben!” she squeals, laughter bubbling out as she swats my hand. She scrambles to the edge of the bed, the blanket slipping lower, and I don’t even try to disguise how much I enjoy the view—her bare curves bending as she scoops up her discarded clothes.
“Is that… bacon?” she asks, sniffing the air as she shimmies into her pajamas.
“Most likely.” I drag myself from the warmth of the bed, tugging on a pair of jeans. “Mom likes to go all out for Christmas breakfast.”
Hazel rakes her fingers through her tangled hair, frowning into the small mirror on my wall. “It looks like a pair of rats spent the night in it.”
I come up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist and pulling her flush against me. She giggles, squirming when the rough shadow of my beard grazes her neck as I kiss just below her ear.
“You look beautiful,” I murmur—and it’s the truth. Disheveled, flushed, sleepy… she’s never looked more perfect.
“You might think so,” she teases, “but your gran will never let us live this down. I need my brush.”
“Do what you need. I’ll meet you downstairs.” I press one last kiss against her cheek, reluctant to let go. “Cream in your coffee?”
“And sugar, please.” She gifts me a quick smile before slipping out the door. I listen to her soft footsteps fade, the faint creak of the hall floorboards, the opening and closing of the Opal Room’s door.
Silence settles around me, but it isn’t empty. The air still hums with her—the scent of her and her magic.
