Look Before You Bake by Cassie Wright Read Free Book Online Page A

is gorgeous, a riot of rich colors that range from the darkest chocolate brown to a light butter yellow. The morning smell of damp earth and wet leaves is thick in the air, and I finish the bun without realizing it, licking each finger as I go.
    After a certain point, I stop. I can't hear Anita. I turn, concerned, and see her far behind, face red, struggling to keep up. Her pack's swaying precariously from side to side, and she's almost staggering. Cursing my stupidity, I hurry back.
    "You all right?"
    "Fine," she gasps, coming to a stop. "Fine. Just. You know. Enjoying the scenery."
    "Here." I reach out and take both large water bottles from the side pockets of her pack. Each is about a liter. Then I shake my head and set them down. "Come here a moment." I step up close, and unfasten the clasp over her chest. She blushes, and I realize that my hands are inches from her full breasts. My hands move with a will of their own. I reach down to the broad hip supports that clasp over her abdomen, and unlatch that too. The pack sags heavily on her shoulders. Anita smells so good. I want to lean down and inhale her scent, press my nose against the nape of her neck. Snuffle in her hair, lift her chin, nip at her throat.
    She's not breathing. I can smell her arousal rising up, sweet and intoxicating. I rumble deep in my chest. Swallow. "Here. Let me take your pack."
    "Oh," she whispers. "Sure."
    I step behind her and lift it up. I curse myself for a fool. I should have carried it from the get-go. I sling it over one shoulder and cough, clearing my throat. "There. That should help."
    "I – thank you." She won't meet my eyes.
    We're still standing close. Take her , says my bear. Push her down onto the leaves. Remove her human clothing. Mount her, and take her hard. I'm breathing deeply, as if I've just climbed a steep slope. How am I going to keep my cool if we're traveling for three days together? I cough again, pick up the waterbottles and slide them back into the pack pockets, and then nod my head politely, stepping past her again. I don't try to meet her eyes. I walk, but I can feel her behind me. Feel her eyes on my body. I have to rein in my bear. I have to keep a tight hold on my instincts so I can learn more about her. About her interest in the honey.
    We walk. We stop for frequent water breaks. It's a beautiful hike, and without her pack Anita does much better. The ground is mostly flat, and the few times we have to cross over a stream I hold Anita's hand, helping her balance as she walks over fallen logs.
    We stop for lunch. Normally I just forage as I walk, snacking on nuts, berries, occasionally digging up the random root, or even tearing up succulent plants as I come across them. That lets me walk without stopping, but with Anita watching, I restrain myself. A powerful hunger has built up by the time we sit on a rock by a rushing river. Anita's face is red, but she's not complaining.
    "Here," she says. "At the top of my pack. I made us lunch."
    "You did?" My tummy rumbles as I open the flap.
    "Of course!" She smiles, and steps next to me to dig out two massive tinfoil-wrapped objects. "I made sourdough loaves, with roast beef, Swiss cheese, a nice Dijon mustard, slices of red onion, and what else?" She unwraps one, revealing a sandwich the size of a football. "Vine-ripened tomato slices, watercress and arugula, fried onions..."
    It smells divine. The sandwich is actually large enough that I have to hold it with both hands, a rarity for me. I lean back against a tree and take a first bite. The sourdough is sharp, the roast beef fresh, the mustard tangy. There's crunch to the onion and watercress, and as I chew, the different flavors compliment and build off each other. "Damn," I say around the corner of a full mouth. I look up at her, cheek bulging, eyes wide. "Anita."
    She grins and sets her sandwich down. It's a much smaller version of my own. "It's just a little something. Here, let me freshen up." I watch as she steps