Smolder: A Werebear + BBW Paranormal Romance (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters Book 2)

by Sexton, Ophelia

  Heat seared through her, racing down her spine, kindling an urgent throb of desire between her thighs. She gasped, and he withdrew.

  Wait, what?

  "I'm sorry—" he began. But his hands still cradled her cheeks.

  "I'm not," Caitlyn said firmly, and rose on the tip-toes of her good foot to return the kiss.

  His mouth was sweet, and firm, and so warm. And the light scrape of his beard provided a sensual contrast to the softness of his lips.

  After an instant, he took control of the kiss, keeping it exquisitely gentle. Light nibbles alternating with teasing brushes of his lips, each contact sending a jolt of pure pleasure through her.

  She had never been kissed like this before, a slow, sensual exploration that lingered and caressed without any hurry.

  Most of her dates had treated kissing as the perfunctory prelude to the more important business of getting her clothes off as quickly as possible. They had rushed through their kisses, impatient to get to the "good stuff."

  But Mark…Mark kissed like he really enjoyed the slow sensuality of it. Like he was savoring the taste of her.

  Caitlyn could sense his hunger straining against the leash of his self-control as he continued to hold her carefully between his hands like something fragile and very valuable while simultaneously driving her crazy with his lips.

  Her bruises and sore muscles forgotten, she was on fire for him, aching and hungry for more, her world narrowed to the feel of his hands on her face and his lips moving over hers.

  She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to draw him closer. She wanted more, wanted to feel the hard planes of his body pressing against her soft curves. Wanted to feel what his beard would feel like against other parts of her body.

  Wanted to know if he was as turned-on as she was right now.

  But he was immovable as a statue, muscles taut and hard under her fingers as he continued to maintain a maddening distance between them. The hands cupping her face never stopped being gentle, but she couldn't budge him.

  "Mark…please," she finally begged, when he drew back just far enough to let her speak.

  Her lips brushed his mouth with every word, and she felt him shiver.

  He groaned softly. Then, to her intense frustration, he pulled away.

  "I want to," he said, his breath uneven. "But Caitlyn, you're hurt and—"

  "—I don't care."

  And she didn't. In fact, she'd temporarily forgotten about her injuries while being kissed by this amazing, sexy man.

  Mark shook his head ruefully. "You have no idea how tempting you are right now." His thumbs traced the arc of her ears, sending a fresh cascade of shivers down her spine.

  It seemed that with him, any place on her body responded to his touch with panty-melting urgency.

  "But you can't stop now!" she protested. Her fingertips dug into the hard muscles of his shoulders.

  He closed his eyes, and she saw him swallow hard. "You're making this very difficult for me."

  "It doesn't have to be difficult. I want you," Caitlyn said baldly.

  She wasn't in the habit of propositioning men she'd just met, but then again, she hadn't met anyone like Mark before.

  "I want you too. Badly." Mark's words kindled fresh heat between her legs.

  As if he couldn't help himself, he leaned forward and gave her another one of those light, delicious kisses.

  "But I want you to be able to enjoy everything I want to do to you," he continued, his voice low and deep. "And right now, your spirit is willing—" he winked at her "—but your flesh is weak. So hurry and heal up, Caitlyn. Because once you're in my bed, I won't go easy on you."

  Oh God. I hope not, she thought dizzily. She had heard of people going weak at the knees but had never experienced it before now.

  "Promises, promises," she murmured.

  "I always keep my promises," he told her, managing somehow not to sound smug. "And now, there's a dinner downstairs that's getting cold."

  Caitlyn gave an involuntary squeak of surprise when he swept her up in his arms once more after handing her the crutches to hold.

  A girl could get used to this, she thought, as he carried her effortlessly down the curving wooden stairs.

  * * *

  Over dinner, Mark watched Caitlyn eat the grilled steak that he had prepared for her, using beef from his family's ranch, and waged silent war with his bear—and with himself.

  Resisting Caitlyn had been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Especially once he had tasted her lips and experienced her sweetly eager response to him.

  It had taken every ounce of willpower he'd possessed not to push her against the nearest wall and show her exactly what it meant to mate a bear shifter. Even now, his body ached with frustrated desire, and he was still painfully hard.

  Every time he thought he might be calming down, she did something—licked her lips, looked at him as if she wanted him for dessert, brushed his fingers when he passed her the salt—that made his body rouse all over again.

  He was a grown man, damn it! Not a teenager obsessed with sex. Mark had always prided himself on his self-control and his logic.

  Both of those things were feeling strained right now. He was beginning to think that inviting Caitlyn here had been a mistake—but his bear protested at the thought of sending her to the hotel in town.

  It wanted her here, under Mark's roof. It was by nature fiercely protective of mate and family. And the sight of Caitlyn's bruises and abrasions, coupled with the crutches, made it deeply uneasy.

  At least we're feeding our mate, it remarked peevishly.

  She's not our mate, Mark repeated patiently, as he dished out a second helping of the seasoned oven fries.

  His bear rarely communicated directly with him, so it irritated him that it was doing so now, just to lay a guilt trip on him.

  "Thank you," Caitlyn said. "This is delicious."

  Under the food smells rising from their plates, Mark could still smell the maddening fragrance of her arousal. So could his bear.

  Mark entertained a brief fantasy of coming around the table, picking Caitlyn up, and plunking her down on his lap. His hands would slide under her loose knitted sweater, and then he'd—

  He quashed his train of thought. He couldn't. Not right now.

  Why not? his bear demanded. We can scent how ready she is. Mate her! Mate her now, before someone else does!

  You want me to pounce on her right now?

  His bear assented vigorously.

  And risk frightening her away? Mark asked. She's not like us. She's not a shifter. And I probably already overstepped with that kiss in the hallway.

  Not to mention the inconvenient fact that Caitlyn was an investigative reporter and a risk to the Swanson family secret. Mark couldn't conceive of taking a mate, someone to whom he would be bonded for life, and not revealing his secret to her.

  His older brother Dane had tried hiding his shifter nature from not one but two women, and it had failed miserably both times.

  So here Mark was, having an intimate dinner with a smart, sexy, beautiful woman…and he couldn't decide what to do.

  He knew what he wanted to do…over and over again, and in a variety of positions, while she panted and moaned and screamed his name…but he also knew that letting his shifter side rule him would be a very bad idea right now.

  Argh.

  At least she hadn't tried to fight him off or run away when he'd yielded to the compulsion to kiss her.

  Quite the opposite, in fact. It had been a long time since Mark had enjoyed kissing anyone that much. He and Caitlyn had some serious chemistry…

  Of course, interjected his bear. She is our mate. Our fated mate.

  Oh God, not that again. Mark fought the urge to roll his eyes, because he didn't want Caitlyn to think he was nuts.

  "Is everything okay?" she asked, swallowing a bite. "You look kind of distracted."

  "Hm?" Mark asked, startled. At least she didn't catch me talking t
o my bear out loud. "No, everything's fine. I was just, uh, thinking."

  "Oh." Caitlyn studied him. Her pretty, dark blue eyes were disturbingly perceptive.

  Mark took a deep breath. "Look, Caitlyn," he said, bracing himself for his bear's anger. "As my guest, I don't want you to think that I'm putting any pressure—" he began.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Mark was startled.

  His doorbell never rang. The ranch was miles from town, the only people around were his relatives and the ranch hands, and his door was always unlocked anyway.

  And he hadn't heard anyone drive up.

  "Excuse me," he said to Caitlyn and went to see who it was.

  When he opened the door, Evan was standing on his porch, holding a small bouquet of tulips fresh from the main house's garden.

  "Hey," said Evan, thrusting the bouquet in Mark's direction. "These are for Caitlyn."

  "What the actual fuck?" Mark felt his lips twisting in a snarl as his bear tried to take control.

  See! Someone's trying to take our mate! You know what Evan is like! No woman is safe from his urges!

  Evan stepped back hastily. "Hey, chill out! They're from Mom."

  "Say what?" Mark and his bear both stared blankly at their younger brother.

  Evan said in a rush, "You missed Sunday dinner, and Mom wanted to know why, so Annabeth told her about Caitlyn staying at your house…and I was sent over here with some Get Well Soon flowers, to get the scoop. It wasn't my idea, honest!" he finished.

  Oh God, Sunday dinner. The sacred Swanson family weekly dinner. And Mark had completely forgotten about it.

  He stared at the proffered tulips in horror.

  "I am so screwed," he said as he reached out and took the flowers from his brother.

  "Mark, what the hell is going on with you?" Evan asked. He shook his head. "I mean, everyone knows about my dating habits," and he punctuated his words with a lopsided grin, "but I've never known you to pick up a woman—and especially not one of our patients—and then bring her here. And she's not even a shifter. Didn't you tell me once that you would only date shifters?"

  Mark opened his mouth, but for once, he could find nothing to say.

  Evan's expression grew thoughtful. "And you've been acting really weird since last night…in fact, the last time I saw anyone behaving like that, it was Dane, right after he met Annabeth."

  Mark usually enjoyed living on the ranch with the rest of his family. But not tonight. "Shut up, Evan," he growled.

  Evan's dark brows rose, and Mark saw a familiar, devilish glint in his younger brother's eye. "So what do I tell Mom?"

  "Tell her that I'm a grown man, and I need my privacy."

  And with that, Mark slammed the door in his brother's face.

  Chapter Six – Dangerous Inquiries

  Clutching the bouquet, Mark made his way back to his dining room…and his guest. He had no idea how he was going to explain the flowers or what had just happened.

  "Flower delivery, this far from the big city?" Caitlyn asked as he handed her the bunch of tulips. She looked at them appreciatively. "Pretty. What's the occasion?"

  "You should know that my mother sent these over for you," Mark told her, finally beginning to see the humor in the situation.

  Caitlyn's blue eyes widened. "Um…why? No, wait," she said, holding up a hand when he began fumbling for a reply. "Let me guess; you're just a lonely cowboy out here on the ranch, and she's trying to marry you off to the first girl you manage to lure out here?"

  Mark tried and failed to imagine his mother playing matchmaker for him with an Ordinary human.

  He still remembered how unhappy and worried she had been when Dane started dating Annabeth.

  It was always dangerous when shifters became involved with Ordinary humans, but Bearpaw Ridge was also suffering a serious shortage of shifter women who weren't his relatives. These days, more and more shifters were hunting for mates using other channels. Internet-based shifter matchmaking services were extremely popular, especially among the more uncommon types of shifters. But Mark had resisted the idea of being matched up with someone he'd never met.

  That left ordinary humans as a dating pool, which brought with it an entirely different set of complications. Mark had seen the tragic consequences when Dane had gotten serious with his college sweetheart, and it had hardened his determination not to fall into the same trap.

  And then Annabeth had come along, and Dane's happiness at finding a mate—even an Ordinary mate—had weakened Mark's resolution a tiny bit.

  "You have obviously never met my mom," Mark told Caitlyn dryly. "She's more concerned that you're the right kind of girl, especially since, I, uh, don't date much. So she sent Evan over to do some reconnaissance."

  Caitlyn gave him an exaggerated once-over, then surprised him by saying indignantly, "You don't date much? You? Are you telling me that the women around here aren't beating down your door and flooding you with phone calls? What's wrong with them?"

  The sincerity of her tone made his own cheeks grow hot. Damn, but this woman is dangerous.

  He found himself speechless for the second time in an hour.

  Of course she noticed and gave him a sly smile. "Or do they all know that you're a lawyer?"

  "Touché," he told her, opening one of his cupboards in search of something to use as a vase. "I've definitely had more luck with the fireman thing." He paused and gave her a sly smile of his own. "I mean, it convinced you to come stay here, didn't it?"

  * * *

  Mark's house was utterly silent the next morning when Caitlyn got out of bed with painful slowness. If anything, she felt even sorer today than she had yesterday, but Dr. Jacobi had warned her that this might happen.

  At least she was feeling a lot more clear-headed, though she had lain awake a long time last night, replaying that amazing kiss in her head.

  After showering and dressing in the same clothes she had been wearing since the accident, she made her way slowly downstairs with the aid of one of the crutches.

  Still no sign of Mark.

  She limped into the kitchen, which had a sunny breakfast nook set in a large bay window looking out over the rolling hills at the back of the house. She saw cattle grazing peacefully on distant hillsides, but no sign of any people.

  However, the small table in the breakfast nook had been set for one, complete with a vase of tulips.

  A piece of notepaper propped against a shining chrome insulated coffee pot caught her eye.

  She made her way over to the table and picked up the note, which was written in a neat, bold hand.

  Dear Caitlyn,

  I have an appointment with a client this morning and need to head over to my office in town. Please make yourself at home in my absence. I have satellite TV, if you want to watch something. And my wireless network doesn't require a password, if you need Internet access.

  I'll stop by Mike's yard before I come home and ask about your car. Please call me at my cell number if you need anything.

  Mark

  PS: I spoke with Sheriff Jacobsen a short while ago and got the police report number for the accident. You'll probably need that when you call your insurance company.

  Below that, he had written his cell number, the report number, and the sheriff's phone number.

  Touched by his thoughtfulness, Caitlyn looked around the breakfast nook.

  She spotted her messenger bag and her purse sitting on the floor near the table. Both were covered in smears of dirt, and considering her own battered state, she wasn't optimistic that her laptop had survived the accident.

  Then her phone rang from inside her purse, startling her. Moving awkwardly, she managed to snag both her purse and the bag.

  Her phone looked undamaged. She glanced at the Caller ID, then hit Answer. "Hi, Mark."

  "Oh, good," Mark said, in that deep, sexy voice of his. "Your phone does work! That's great. Hey, I'm waiting for my client to arrive, but I wanted to let you know that I stoppe
d by Mike's on my way in, and I have some good news and some bad news."

  "I think I can probably guess that the bad news is," Caitlyn said with a sigh. "Car's totaled?"

  "Most likely," Mark said. "It's definitely not drivable. I'm sorry. But Mike pried open the trunk and got your suitcase out. I have it here in the office with me, and I'll bring it to you as soon as my appointment is done."

  "Thank you," she said with real gratitude, looking down at her dirt-stained jeans and blouse.

  "No problem," he assured her. "Okay, I've got to go. My client just pulled up to the curb."

  Wow, he's really sweet. Feeling a renewed sense of regret that she was only going to be in Bearpaw Ridge for a short time, Caitlyn sat down and dug into the breakfast that Mark had left for her.

  She polished off a soft-boiled egg, still warm, and a small bowl of fruit salad, and made toast from slices of a delicious honey-wheat bread that Caitlyn suspected came from Annabeth's bakery. There was a butter dish on the table as well as a selection of homemade jams and jellies.

  The coffee in the insulated jug was piping hot and strong, just what she needed to face a day of post-accident paperwork and phone calls to her insurance company.

  Moving slowly, she put her dishes in the dishwasher when she was done eating, cleared the table, then sat back down.

  The breakfast nook would be a really pleasant place to work, she thought, reaching into her messenger bag.

  Finding that her laptop had also miraculously survived the crash inside the bag's padded compartment, Caitlyn spent the next hour taking care of business with her insurance company.

  Then she read her email. Nothing from Jake yet, which was odd. Shouldn't he and Jen have made it to Los Angeles by now?

  She sent them an update that mentioned her accident in a deliberately understated way, making sure to emphasize that she was okay.

  Then it was time to get to work.

  From what Mark had told her about the ranch's operations over dinner last night, she didn't think Dane would be around and available to talk to her until after dinner—if he was willing to be interviewed at all.

  According to Mark, Annabeth had just found out that she was pregnant, and Dane was feeling very protective of his wife. He was not happy about having Annabeth reminded of Roger Pemberton in any way, shape, or form.