8
He sighed. “But it wouldn’t be right. For one, we’re both drunk. For two, you’ve been back here one day.”
“Sometimes one day is enough,” she said, putting a hand to his face and running it lightly over his cheek. “Enough to make me remember everything I loved about you.”
“But you still picked Charles.”
“Because he tricked me,” she said. “He tricked you.”
“It’s still a little hard to believe it’s all his fault. After all, we never talked to each other. We hid from each other, even if we did both have some kind of feelings.”
“That’s true,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean we weren’t meant to be together. Maybe it was the strength of our feelings that made us nervous, that made it easy for him to get in the middle of us and split us up.”
Francis put his hands to his head and stood up, gently moving her off his lap so he could pace. “I don’t know. Doesn’t it seem far-fetched? He was my friend. I mean, I know he’s a monster for hurting you, and I’ll make sure he never gets to do it again. But isn’t it giving him too much credit to say he did this to us on purpose?”
“I wish you weren’t drunk,” she said frankly. “Because then I think you’d see what I see. Which is, unlikely as it may seem, he screwed us. He really screwed us, Francis. He knew exactly what to do to make it impossible to be together, and he did it for reasons we may never understand.”
“Or maybe he just loved you,” Francis said, his eyes haunted. “It’s easy to love you.”
“Then love me now.”
“No,” Francis said. “Not now. Not when we’re drunk or tired or desperate. Not after waiting. Not after a year of pain and fighting. Not in one moment we’ll barely remember through exhaustion and alcohol.”
“Why?”
“When I take you, if I take you, it’s going to be something you remember the rest of your life. You’re going to scream my name to the heavens until your throat is sore, your whole body will remember me with every step you take, and your heart will be full to exploding with the words of love I give. It won’t be a breath of wind or a fleeting moment. It’ll be an entire sunrise, lighting up every corner of your life.” His expression was tense, but he swayed slightly and then caught himself. “I really need to shut up when I’m drunk.”
“No,” she said. “That was beautiful.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he said, sweeping his arm in front of him in a clumsy, unbalanced bow that nearly took him off his feet again. When he straightened, he headed for the stairs.
Then, thinking better of it, he made a slow, zombie-like tour of the house to check all the doors, and she grinned at his overprotectiveness.
His words already burned inside her as he started up the stairs, and she followed, making sure he got to bed safe.
She’d seen a different side of Francis than she’d ever expected was in there—romantic and honest and brave and outspoken at the same time—and she hoped someday she’d see that without the help of liquid courage.
He thought he had to wait for this great, big moment between them, but he didn’t realize that for her, the sunrise had already begun.
Just being with him brought the light back into her life. She just had to get him to stop fighting what was clearly meant to be.
Francis woke with a headache and the feeling that he was the biggest idiot in the world.
He could only remember flashes of last night, but they made his face burn to an almost painful extent.
He remembered his talk about liking curvy chicks and his obscene hand gestures in public. He scrubbed his hand over his face as he remembered talking about how she should have been his.
And then he remembered a scene downstairs in the living room, where he was giving some kind of speech about how powerful his claiming would be.
He rolled over with a groan, wanting to die.
But sadly, the sun was peeping through the window, and it was time to get up and face the day, no matter how much he wanted a time machine to just go back and undo everything.
It’s Rock’s fault, he thought blearily as a headache pounded through him.
He stood and looked down to see he was still wearing his clothes, for the most part. Someone had helped remove his shoes and socks and his jeans and belt. He flushed as he realized he was in just boxers and a tee shirt.
What had she seen?
No, Valerie needed him. This wasn’t time to act like a blushing virgin. He was a bear who’d beaten down a lot of others with his bare hands. He was a man, dammit, not a mouse.
He grabbed a long robe, flung it on, tied the belt lazily, and went downstairs, hoping against hope that he’d gotten up before her and could still make her breakfast.
Nope.
She was standing in the kitchen, clearly freshly showered, her curls still lightly damp and a bit shiny, her skin fresh and clean.
Her bruises were fading. It made him smile.
He jogged down the stairs two at a time to get to her faster. “Sorry, I should have been up sooner. And I should never have drunk like that.”
She gave him a lopsided smile. “Well, that was sort of Rock’s plan.” When he frowned, she put up a hand. “I didn’t really want to go along with it, but you know Rock better than me, so you should know he doesn’t really take no for an answer.”
That was for damn sure.
“Anyway, I’m sorry if I said anything to embarrass you,” Francis said, taking a seat at the counter and groaning as his head pounded again.
She set a reddish-orange drink in front of him. It had a sprig of parsley on it as a garnish, and he eyed it suspiciously.
“It’s my hangover cure,” she said. “I made it for Charles sometimes.” Her smile wavered, and Francis picked it up and downed the whole thing in one go, hoping to cheer her.
Tomato juice and something else burned his throat. “It’s good,” he croaked.
“Do you remember anything?” she asked.
“Not much,” he said, hoping he didn’t flush and give himself away.
“Okay,” she said, looking slightly disappointed as she grabbed the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. “I guess I can fill you in.”
“No need,” he said. “I’m good. I’ll remember at some point, maybe.”
She shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
“Look, Val,” he said. “I’m… just trying to protect you. I’m trying not to take advantage.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “Well, no, it’s not, because I keep trying to tell you I want you to. And don’t you care what I think about it?”
Francis pressed his lips together. “Of course I do… but…”
“Then why won’t you give me what you want?”
His body twitched uncomfortably. All he had to do was look at her to get painfully hard. Holding himself back from her was like holding back a storm. Why didn’t she understand that?
She took a piece of bacon off a plate and nibbled it, then handed the plate to him so he could eat the rest. She also handed him a plate of eggs. “Have some breakfast.” There was resignation in her voice.
Did she really not understand what she did to him?
He pushed the plate aside and came over to her where she was facing the stove, her shoulders slightly curved in defeat. He slipped his arms around her, unable to resist anymore.
Tucking his chin into the dip of her shoulder, he murmured, “I’m sorry, Val. This is new to me, too. I’m sorry for my big, stupid words last night. I’m sorry for being stubborn today. I’ve spent a year trying to get over you. Trying to get used to the fact that you’re not mine. It’s not easy for me to suddenly change it around. To tell myself you’re not off-limits anymore.” He nipped softly at the skin of her shoulder. “And it’s definitely foreign to believe you could want me.”
She turned around and grabbed him by the lapels of his robe, pulling his lips down onto hers as she pushed him into the counter behind him.
Lust surged through h
im as her lips parted his and her tongue slipped inside. The bear in him roared. He was ready to take her. Claim her.
But as much as he wanted to, he knew it wasn’t the right time yet.
“You’re holding back,” she murmured against his lips. “Stop holding back from me. It hurts me.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing,” he said, his entire body in agony from waiting.
“Then take me,” she said. “Make love to me. Give me what we should’ve had from the start.”
“We were just friends,” he said, pulling back and looking down into her gorgeous green eyes. “Weren’t we?”
“Don’t friends make the best lovers?” she asked.
He bit his lip. He was afraid. Afraid that once he let down the wall holding him back, his want for her would surge forward, ruining everything, smothering her as she was just starting to make a new life.
Her eyes darkened and she averted her gaze, stepping back and folding her arms. “I get it,” she said. “You can’t see me that way. I’ll always be Charles’s mate to you. I—”
He cut her off with a kiss, grabbing her by the shoulders harshly and pulling her into him, crushing her body against his as he plundered her lips. His tongue dived deep, swiping every reachable part of her. He wanted to be inside her, all over her, claiming her, owning her.
He was afraid. Afraid of what all this meant. But he was more afraid of the hurt he’d seen in her eyes and him being the one who’d put it there.
He’d kiss all the pain away if that was what she wanted. No matter what it cost him.
9
When Francis finally pulled back, gaining control of himself, she was breathless and limp in his arms, looking up at him with the wide eyes of a rabbit caught in a snare.
“Sorry, I—”
She cut him off by flying into him, wrapping her arms tight around his neck as she kissed him again on his mouth, then his neck, then his shoulder. He caught her up in his arms and strode with her to the stairs, taking them two at a time as he felt her lips still caressing any part of him she could reach.
His entire body was on fire, and he wanted to burn with her.
“Francis, Francis,” she said, making little mewls as his arms held her tight and high against him.
He walked into his room and almost didn’t want to put her down on the bed, simply because he enjoyed having her in his arms so much.
But he knew she would be more comfortable there for what he wanted to do.
He set her down gently, and when she reached up for him immediately, he pushed her back, crawling over her, pinning her to the bed with his immense weight. For a moment, he just straddled her, enjoying the view beneath him as her curls spread wildly over his pillow, her arms fell to either side of her on the bed, and her breasts heaved with exertion. She was flushed, excited, and her eyes were devouring him as if he were the best thing she’d ever tasted.
So he started to take off his robe. He had to get off of her to get rid of his clothing, and she took the moment to do the same. It seemed that now that things were breaking between them, they couldn’t wait to see every part of each other.
She’d never been Charles’s, he thought with satisfaction. Though, he knew it shouldn’t matter. Maybe she’d been with him, but that just meant Francis could wipe every particle of the man from her body. Fill it with good things and love and himself.
She undid her bra with some difficulty and chucked it to the side with her tee shirt and pajama pants, leaving only her panties.
His eyes followed the shape of her curves, noting every little dip and wrinkle, every little rounded shape that begged for his attention.
How he was getting lucky enough to see her like this, he didn’t know.
He wouldn’t claim her, but he would make her see for damn sure he didn’t think less of her for anything, that he wasn’t holding back because of Charles, that he was attracted as all hell to her.
Her green eyes took on a warm, fiery hue as she looked up at him, tracing his newly bared muscles with a precision he’d never expected.
She wanted him. She really did. It felt like part of a dream, not because Francis hadn’t had a lot of women interested in him, but because he’d never imagined this one could be his. Not for some time anyway.
One of the most painful things a shifter could experience was losing someone they considered their mate to someone else. He didn’t intend to go through that ever again.
She was as good as his, but he had time to wait for it.
Even if he had no more time to wait to show her how much he felt for her.
He was wearing only boxers out of politeness for her, and she seemed slightly disappointed. He grinned, knowing she’d see him soon enough. But could her small, curvy shape really contain him? It was slightly worrisome.
That was why what he had planned for this moment was a little safer.
He flicked out a claw from one of his nails and grinned down at her, looking predatory. “Want to see a bear trick?”
She nodded eagerly, biting down on her full lower lip. She was so beautiful, her pert nose, pretty, flushed tawny skin, delicate chin, and heart-shaped face.
He slid the claw under the side of her panties and jerked, cutting straight through them. With his other hand, he whipped them away, leaving her naked.
He was sure, staring down at her, that his hunger was bare on his face. His eyes met hers, and hers softened in understanding and warmth.
“You do want me.”
“Of course I do,” he growled, leaning forward to take her lips again. His kiss was hungry, claiming, his tongue angrily clashing with hers, building a fever pitch inside him as she started to let out little muffled moans and her hands pressed at his shoulders.
He pulled back, and her lips were swollen, her eyes slightly disappointed.
“I couldn’t tell if you were trying to stop me,” he said.
“I didn’t want you to give up so easy,” she said, pouting slightly. “Is that lame?”
He shook his head. “Not if that’s what you want. Are you sure?”
She let out a shaky breath. “I just want to know that you want me.” She shook her head. “I want to feel it.”
His hands flew to hers, pinning them down hard into the bed as his lips crashed down on hers again, kissing her harshly, catching her lips as she tried to move side to side.
She smiled against his lips as she gave in, moaning lightly as his tongue swept inside her in triumph. He kissed her until her hands were limp beneath him, until her body was trembling.
Then he let her go, staring at her gorgeous, glowing, flushed body as he positioned himself between her legs.
He grabbed her ankles and spread them wide, and she let out a little gasp.
“I’m going to kiss you here,” he growled. “Is that okay?”
She nodded, putting her fist up to her teeth and biting down on it. “Dammit, Francis. You’re hot.”
“Say that when I’ve started,” he muttered, focusing on the beautiful pink flesh in front of him. His fingers played lightly over the folds, and he stared in wonder at this part of the woman who had always meant everything to him.
Mate, he said in his heart as he moved his lips between her legs and kissed her deeply over her center. She writhed, and he caught her legs, holding them tight and open so he could access her, give her as much pleasure as possible.
Mate.
He’d known it for some time. At least his bear had, even when Francis had doubted it. Doubted his own worth.
But right now, with her in his arms, he was utterly confident. He could please her. He could take care of her. He could protect her.
She was his.
She curled back in an orgasm and screamed out his name as he stroked hard down her center.
His.
Pleasure unlike anything Valerie had ever experienced crashed through her in surging waves she was helpless to stop. She heard her voice shouting Francis’s name, like a prayer, like a
curse, like a desperate plea for relief yet for more at the same time.
Her whole body came for him, jerking and taut, from the tips of her fingers to the bottoms of her toes, and she’d never felt anything like this with Charles.
With anyone.
Maybe Francis really was made for her. Wasn’t that what shifter mating meant?
His tongue went to work again even as her body was still trembling from orgasm, and the unbelievable pressure began to build in her again.
He held her legs so tight there was no escaping him. But she knew with even a word, he’d let her go. That he’d never do anything she didn’t want from him.
She’d loved the way he’d kissed her, without questioning her need for him to chase her, to catch her, to semi-force her. After so long, she needed to be needed. She needed him to win her. Needed him to fight for her, even against herself.
But it only worked because it was an illusion, because she knew she was the one in control and he would only do what she wanted.
It was a completely different world from the one she’d lived in with Charles.
It was new and bright, and yes, the sun was rising, but also, it was rising over and over. Warmer and warmer. Lighter and lighter.
Sparks went off behind her eyes as another orgasm overtook her. His wet mouth sucked hard on her even as she came against him, her legs and hands going numb from the sensation. The waves threaded together, and she wasn’t sure how many times she came as he held her there, sucking and kissing relentlessly, his hands steadying her body, holding her legs, as a hand reached up to stroke her stomach before going back to her leg again.
She jolted at the feel of his hand on her soft flesh and felt a rush of embarrassment. He raised his head, almost as if he could feel it, and let go of her legs to run both hands over her waist.
“You’re beautiful to me, Valerie,” he said. “I promise. Every part.”
“Even my stomach?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Especially your stomach,” he said, running a finger around it, outlining the curves. “What do women have against their stomachs? They’re so soft and cute and round and feminine. Yours is, anyway.”
Secrets of the Bear (Trapped in Bear Canyon Book 4) Page 6
