August: Mating Fever (Bears of Kodiak Book 2) by Selene Charles Read Free Book Online Page B

Then, releasing him, she jogged toward the employee backroom. August plopped into the nearest seat, staring at the neon-lit walls in front of him without really seeing any of it.
    In no time, she’d returned to him, carrying not only her box, but two beers.
    August was pretty sure Jackson wasn’t much of a beer drinker. It took her half the night to nurse the thing, and even then, she barely managed to finish half of it.
    But it had become their thing, their way to unwind after a long night. Truthfully, he liked nothing in the world more than being with her and having her attention solely focused on him.
    Why had he ever fought this attraction? Because some damned mating ritual had told him to? Screw that. August was tired of living a lie. Reaching over to the table, he snatched up the box he’d set aside for her an hour ago.
    Her eyes lit up, and she laughed when she saw his badly wrapped package. He’d tried, but she was lucky he’d bothered at all. August had always been a simple guy.
    “Wow,” she said with a trace of laughter. “I know you must have really tried hard with this.” Picking at the shoddy wrap job with her pinky nail, she snickered again as a badly taped-down edge popped free.
    Snorting, he forked his fingers through his hair, mussing it. He’d started growing it longer two months prior to prepare himself for the ritual. It was now almost shoulder-length and felt unnaturally long on him. He would be happy when he could get a cut. “I did try. Hard.”
    She puckered her lips. “Should I kiss you for the effort?”
    His breath hitched, and he had to fist the neck of his bottle tightly just to keep from reaching out and dragging her across the table and onto his lap.
    Jackson seemed completely oblivious to his inner turmoil and began tearing the wrapping off the gift. Then, flicking the box lid off, she laughed, and her ice blue eyes danced.
    “Oh jeez, Auggie.” She reached inside and pulled out a CD of classical music with a rock twist.
    He shrugged. He’d never really been one for gifts. There had been a couple of women in his life that had piqued his interest, but never enough for him to go down the road of emasculating himself.
    August just wasn’t that kind of guy. He’d always been honest with his flings. If they wanted something safe and steady, then he was their guy. But if they wanted to be wooed and seduced, then they stood a better chance with anyone else but him.
    And yet there he was, handing her a box that had taken him almost two months to complete for her. He’d looked high and low for her favorite things. Sometimes, he’d been forced to order shit online because in this remote spot in Alaska, finding a CD of classical music had proved impossible.
    Reaching in again, Jackson pulled out a box of Alaska fresh-smoked salmon. He’d actually caught the salmon himself and smoked it.
    But Chance had stated in no uncertain terms that handing a woman fish wrapped in a brown paper sack was the very opposite of romance. So he’d been forced to shell out a couple of bucks and a promise to help his neighbor clear out dead tree stumps from his property the next month in exchange for a cedar-carved box with an image of a sockeye burned into it.
    Judging by her reaction, he’d scored major brownie points so far.
    “Fancy,” she teased him, toeing his booted foot with her own.
    His heart ached. What they were doing tonight should terrify him out of his mind. He was playing with fire. But he didn’t care anymore. He was tired of caring, of pretending that Jack didn’t affect him the way she did.
    Setting the box down, she lifted the lid and gently took out one sliver of the fish. She slipped it into her mouth and beamed as she chewed.
    “Oh gods, mouthgasm.” She rolled her eyes, acting as though she really was in the midst of a mind-blowing orgasm, which caused his cock to grow heavy and his stomach to bottom out.
    Taking a deep swig of his beer just to ease his nerves, he chuckled.