“Les?” he asked, nudging her lightly.
“No, not today,” she mumbled.
He sighed and then nudged harder, tickling her at the waist. “Les? I need your address.”
She mumbled it to him and he put it in his GPS.
It was close to the bar. He turned down a couple of side streets and found himself in front of an apartment complex with large, modern apartments.
He shoved the keys in his pocket and went to pick her up.
When he lifted her, she pushed at him, panicked.
“No, gerroff me.”
His face tightened but he picked her up anyway. She looked up at him and calmed in his arms with a sigh.
“Oh, it’s just you,” she said.
He frowned, his blood going icy as he remembered what had happened at the bar. Ben was lucky he hadn’t been there when it happened. He’d probably have beaten him unrecognizable. Even the thought of another man touching Leslie had him responding with killer fury.
He’d never felt that way before.
His bear growled again, and Riley pushed him back into his subconscious.
He pulled Leslie’s keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.
It was dark inside, and he carried Leslie in and kicked the door lightly shut behind him.
She weighed nothing to him, but he wanted to set her down where she’d be safe while he found the lights and oriented himself. So he walked into the living room, which was lit by the streetlights outside, and deposited her on a nice brown leather couch. He stared at her for a moment, so peaceful, thinking that he wanted to look at her forever, and then flicked on the lamp next to her.
She stirred and blinked her eyes. “Riley? Why are you still here?”
“I just brought you home. Here, I’ll get you upstairs. Then I’ll take you to the doctor in the morning.”
“You don’t have to,” she mumbled, turning over on her side on the couch. She tucked her legs up and then moaned in pain, and he felt even worse for what his “friend” had done.
Ben had threatened to sue him when Riley had slammed him up against the wall. But Riley had pointed out that he had way better lawyers, and knew a lot more people, and that had shut Ben up.
When Riley got back, he planned to let a few important people know about Ben’s behavior. Keep him from repeating shit like that.
Ben had made a big mistake doing it to the woman Riley had his eye on.
Riley told himself it was just her lush body, that she was just his latest conquest, and the fury of his passion was simply that he hadn’t had her yet.
But a part of him disagreed. He silenced that part and picked her up again to head upstairs, where he figured the bedrooms were. He walked slowly, making sure not to brush her against the narrow hallway. He pushed the door at the top of the stairs open with his foot, and saw her bedroom.
It was painted in white and blue, and the bedcovers were navy with ocean-themed pictures printed on them. He grinned. Did she dream of sailing the seas? Maybe he should invite her on his yacht sometime.
No, scratch that. She lived here, he lived there. When things were sorted out with his dad’s will, he’d be gone from here. Back to the life he’d made in LA.
Back to the hordes of fans, the cameras in his face.
Back to the loneliness and sometimes wishing he had turned down that scout and stayed in school.
But it was pointless having regrets. He was lucky, privileged. He knew that. He set her on the bed and sat next to her. He checked his watch.
Leslie sighed and snuggled into the covers and he pulled them over and around her.
She’d probably kill him for letting her sleep in her clothes, with her hair all over the place and her makeup still on.
He knew from wearing makeup on set that it wasn’t something you slept in.
He ran a hand through his hair, thinking that a shower wouldn’t be too bad right now.
Anyway, as much as she might kill him for letting her go to bed in her clothes, she’d kill him in much worse ways for changing her when she was unconscious.
He rested against the bed board and looked down at her with amusement. She was so fiery, so sassy and flirtatious and strong normally. Drunk, she was sleepy, snuggly, and tended to murmur things that made no sense.
He hadn’t guessed that someone who owned a bar would get drunk so easily, or be so interesting when drunk.
He put a hand in her hair, and foreign, warm, painful emotions washed through him. He couldn’t stay here. Not tonight. Being here did something odd to him.
Maybe after they had sex and fulfilled all the teasing promises between them, he’d have it out of his system.
But some part of him doubted it.
“Leslie?” he asked, though he knew she probably wouldn’t remember anything he said in the morning.
“Mm.”
“I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”
She didn’t say anything, just curled into the bed.
He stood, checked her blankets one more time, and then, just as he was at her bedroom door, she made a little whimper. Her foot was caught in the sheets.
He gently untangled it and tucked her back in.
He guessed he couldn’t leave after all. He walked downstairs to do the deadbolt on the door and shut the drapes in the front room. He hoped his Jag was safe there on the street. Neighbors would probably wonder though, and talk.
That was something he did not miss about small towns.
But overall, he had to admit he missed the quiet, the privacy you could get here, a lot when he was back in Hollywood.
Coming here really did feel a bit like coming home.
He checked the downstairs once more and walked back up the steps as quietly as possible. He settled in a soft chair across from the bed and closed his eyes.
Hopefully, he’d sleep light enough that if she needed something, he’d wake up easily.
After all, it was his fault this had happened. He owed her.
He also wanted her. But that seemed a little less important at this exact moment at time.
Riley shifted his large body in the uncomfortable chair, and thought of all the ways she could make it up to him later.
4
When Riley woke, he stretched slowly, looking around the foreign room. It was still mostly dark, and he checked his watch to see it was very early in the morning.
He sat up to get into a better spot for more sleep but froze when big, dark brown eyes that were nearly black locked on his.
Sparkly eyes with lush lashes. A mass of curly hair around a gorgeous face. Full lips that were pouted in slight surprise as she watched him.
“Um, good morning?” he said, scratching the back of his head with a wide yawn.
She continued to stare at him like he was some kind of space alien, and he decided maybe playing dead was the best way to deal with this until she remembered the events of last night. Like what he did to her bar and what his friend did to her leg.
He heard an angry exhale of air as he curled into the chair with closed eyes, and a second later a pillow came sailing across the room to knock him in the head. He sat up and chucked it away. “Hey, what was that for?” he asked, rubbing his head.
He’d barely slept. A part of him had kept him from going into a deep sleep so that he could keep an eye on his mate.
Wait, mate?
He blinked. Was he still asleep or did he really just think the word mate?
He shook his head. Not possible. Maybe his bear was just going a little crazy due to lack of sleep. Except it was probably his inner bear that had kept him from being asleep when he wanted to be.
So, his bear thought that this would be his mate? Hm, sure. Last time he trusted that animal, he lost the woman who was most important to him in the whole world, so he probably wasn’t going to be listening to that dude again.
Leslie stretched, and her low-cut dress pressed against her generous breasts. He tried not to look, but the damn things were
like magnets.
Her eyes met his and he grinned guiltily with a shrug.
She leaned forward and put a hand up to her forehead. “What happened?”
“I brought you home last night. You got a little drunk while you were closing up.”
She pursed her lips adorably while she was thinking, and he felt that familiar tightening in his groin he tended to always feel when she was around. She winced and reached for the sheets, lifting them to look at her bandaged ankle. Then she looked at the clock by the side of the bed.
“Doctor’s office won’t be open for another couple hours,” he said. “I googled it. Do you want some pain meds now that your liquid courage has worn off?”
She nodded reluctantly. “The meds are in the cupboard over the sink.”
“Tylenol or Ibuprofen?” he asked, pushing himself out of the chair with a groan and heading for the small bathroom adjoining the bedroom.
“Whatever I have,” she said with a shrug.
He felt her eyes on him as he walked past her. I guess there are a few benefits to having a Hollywood body, he thought with a grin. There was a cup by the sink so he rinsed it out and brought it back to her, along with two small pills.
“Ibuprofen,” he said. “That’s what you had. But you really should be pretty stocked if you’re going to walk around on stilettos like that every night.”
She frowned and grumbled something under her breath.
“What was that?” he asked, smiling as he held the cup out. She took it and washed the pills down and looked up at him with simmering anger.
“They aren’t dangerous when there aren’t assholes around,” she said. “And I don’t wear them every night.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Just specially for me because you knew I was coming?” He meant to tease, but the words seemed to hit their target, because her eyes narrowed and she looked away.
“You did do it for me,” he said delightedly, bouncing onto her bed to sit next to her. He put an arm over her shoulder. “I’m flattered, Les.”
“That’s not my name.”
“I like it, though. Leslie seems so formal. Like some old British guy.”
“It’s a girl’s name, at least in this century.”
He shrugged. She squirmed slightly under his arm and he lifted it. “Sorry I left you in your clothes. I thought you’d kill me if I changed you.”
She groaned. “I would have. But I think I need help to get changed now.”
His groin rejoiced once again, and he shifted and crossed his legs to hide it. “Don’t you want to stay in bed and sleep a little longer? You’ll need the rest.”
She sighed and looked at her leg like it was all of her problems summed up into one appendage. “I don’t think I can sleep. I need to figure things out about the bar.”
“Like what?” he said.
“Like who is going to run things if I can’t walk.”
The stupid idea from last night bubbled up from inside him before he could stop it. “I could do it,” he blurted out.
She gave him a sidelong glance, then slowly raised one beautifully arched black brow. She had a cute nose and it wrinkled adorably at him as she eyed him over. “I don’t think some spoiled Hollywood celebrity would know the first thing about working the bar.”
He frowned. “Hey, I’m not spoiled.” He folded his arms behind his head and rested back against the headboard. “Just for that, I’m not helping you get dressed until you apologize.”
She hung her head slightly and he immediately sat forward, feeling like shit. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey now,” he said, slipping a finger under her chin to gently tilt her face up to his. It reminded him of what they’d done the other night, and he felt himself flush as he released her. He needed to focus, and he couldn’t focus if he was too turned on to think just by touching her.
Damn, this woman had an effect on him that he’d never experienced before.
He loved her chin, stubborn, pointed, at odds with her round face. She was like a little heart, surrounded by the most luscious natural curls he’d ever seen. He wanted to put his hands back in and let the curls twist around his fingers, giving them little hugs.
But he resisted. “I was just teasing. Sorry, I’ve been told that sometimes I don’t know when it’s time to be serious.”
“Is it that, or is it that you don’t like being serious, because then you have to feel things?” she asked astutely. He’d been walking to the wardrobe to pull out clothing for her, and he froze, because the truth struck hard, and no one had ever guessed at anything like that with him.
And now this woman who’d barely known him a few weeks had nailed him harder than anyone else ever had.
He turned slowly and decided on a wry smile as a response. “What can I get you?” he asked.
She bit her lip and he felt blood rush again. Shit. This woman got under his skin, in more ways than one. He needed to run away. He also needed to bed her. He groaned.
“Today, woman.”
She pointed. “The blue top and the black bottoms.”
“The soft ones?” he asked, grabbing a flowy pair of black pants that were wide-legged.
“Yes,” she said, nodding.
“Right,” he said. Gosh, he even liked the feel of her soft clothes. Not that they were half as soft as her skin. He hadn’t been able to resist brushing his hand along her leg when he’d been bandaging her the other night. It hadn’t helped that she’d looked up at him with pure, liquid want pooling in those beautiful black-brown eyes.
He handed her the soft, blue, long-sleeved pullover he’d pulled from the closet and the pair of pants. She took them and frowned at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Turn around,” she said. “I can change myself.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling slightly disappointed as he turned around and folded his arms. She was being cold again this morning. Last night, when she’d been drunk, she’d been melting in his arms and making him promise to continue what they’d started when she was sober.
Maybe not anymore?
He felt more disappointment over that than he wanted to.
She muttered something and he turned around but she shrieked and threw something his direction and he turned back around. A pillow landed at his feet.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I thought maybe you were stuck.”
“My leg is broken, not my brain,” she said.
“Broken?” he said, turning with alarm again, and getting pelted with another pillow as he turned back away before he could mess up and see her when she didn’t want him to. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Not broken, just not working. Are you always this overprotective?” she asked.
He nodded, hoping she could see him from the back. “When someone is injured, especially. I guess it’s the part of me that wanted to be a doctor.”
She went quiet at that and went back to changing. He heard the rustle of the clothing and wished it was him removing her clothing. Wished that asshole Ben hadn’t messed up her foot, so he could be pushing her back on the bed, letting all that gorgeous hair spread out over the pillows as she writhed in pleasure beneath him.
He shifted back and forth, wondering if she’d notice if he adjusted himself. Probably best to wait. She still seemed pissed at him. But what about? The bar? The foot? The kiss? The fact that he’d stopped it?
He knew the smart thing would be to ask her what was wrong. But he didn’t want the question to bring up anything he’d done that she might not remember. Best to let her tell him what it was, even if it made her mad that he wasn’t asking.
She made a soft moan, then another, and he stifled a groan with the back of his hand. Was that a moan of pain? It sounded too similar to the little moans she’d made last night in his arms. He breathed out slowly, pushing the image from his mind.
“Do you need help?” he asked, restraining himself against the urge to turn and look at her.
“Don’t look,” she said. “
But yes.”
“How can I help if I don’t look?” he asked, folding his arms.
“Just, only look at the pants, they’re twisted up at the bottom and I can’t move my foot properly to get through them.”
“Ah,” he said. He kept a hand up so that his eyes were focused on the ground and walked slowly toward the bed. Her legs were dangling off the end and he knelt and focused on her ankle as he gently unrolled the soft pants around her injured foot. He heard her catch her breath at his touch and tried not to react to it. It could only lead to everything that had happened last night, all over again. And who knew if she was ready yet?
“Okay,” she said. “Now turn around so I can get my shirt on.”
He laughed and did as she said. “You should have done that first.”
“Hmph,” she said stubbornly. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Said by Queen Bossypants herself,” he muttered. But he meant it playfully and was pleased when she laughed lightly in response.
“I suppose I am,” she said. “I’m sorry if I made things hard for you last night.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad. Some parts were downright amazing.” He could hear the grin in his voice but couldn’t help it. Kissing her had been heaven, and it made him think that doing even more would be that much more heaven.
He didn’t know how he’d be able to wait.
“All right,” she said, “I’m done. You can turn around.”
He did, and the sight of her, sitting there, dressed and comfortable, hair pulled back and showing off her large, beautiful eyes, turned him on instantly. She looked even more gorgeous in the soft, curve-accentuating clothing than she had been last night in that uncomfortable-looking dress and heels. The clothing she wore now wasn’t tight, but it was thin and draped over everything, making it easy for him to imagine the soft treasures underneath.
He gulped. She made him feel like an adolescent boy all over again.
She eyed him with those smart, playful eyes, like she was waiting for him to do something. But what?
* * *
Leslie couldn’t believe Riley Hart was looking at her like she was a tall drink of water and he was a man who’d been wandering in the desert for far too long.
Bearlebrity: (BWWM) Paranormal BBW Bear Shifter Romance Standalone Page 3
