Bear Outlaw (She-Shifters of Hell's Corner Book 4)

by Candace Ayers

  6

  Eli hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said he wouldn’t be returning for a few days.

  Four days in, Lilly was growing quite accustomed to having the days and nights to herself. She didn’t make the bed. She forgot about lunch. She meandered around the outside of the house during the day, stopping in to the small stable to see the horses and touch their velvety noses. Wherever Eli was, he hadn’t taken any of his animals with him.

  She’d worried at first that maybe no one was seeing after them, but then she spied a small stable-hand at work. One who was probably paid in brothel time, she couldn’t help but think bitterly.

  When he finally made his return, Lilly had been surprised to see him. She was beginning to wonder if he ever actually had plans to return, and starting to wonder what she would do when her food stock began to get low.

  There had been a loud knock at the door, one that had startled her away from the potato she was peeling. She’d dragged her hands over her apron and moved to the door, unbolting it and swinging it wide.

  Eli was on the other side, casually propped up in the frame of the door, as though he always left for days at a time and returned home to knock on his own door.

  His mouth twisted up into a grin, eyes flashing toward her. “So you can follow direction.”

  She frowned at him, unimpressed. “Aren’t you humorous?”

  “I do try,” he said as he brushed by her, his body whispering against hers, barely giving her a second glance. With his back to her, Lilly raised a hand to her hair, hoping to straighten the mess. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself as he moved past her and toward his office space. She had no idea what he did back there in that little room, but whatever it was seemed to occupy an inordinate amount of his time.

  Lilly was left standing alone in the kitchen, as though her sole purpose in life was to unlock the door for him.

  She was still grumbling about his sudden appearance, irritated with herself for how, just for one moment, when she’d pushed the door open and his mouth had quirked up at the corner, she’d thought he might be happy to see her, maybe he would greet her warmly. Now she found herself irritated that those things hadn’t happened, and mostly confused that she had wanted it to happen at all.

  “What was that?” he asked, leaning up against the counter where she was diligently divesting her potatoes of their skin with a series of angry flicks.

  “Nothing,” she muttered to herself more than to him, eyes trained on the falling potato skins.

  “Hmm,” he said, nodding his head and reaching a hand up to stroke his chin, clearly unshaven during his absence. “I thought I heard something along the lines of ‘that good for nothing…’”

  She paused in the process of her potato mutilation, waving the knife in his general direction. Mustering up all the sweetness she could, and trying to quell her irritation, she responded, “Do I look like someone who would say something like that?”

  He eyed her seriously, letting his gaze linger on the knife she was brandishing. “Absolutely.”

  She harrumphed and turned back to the potatoes. “I was only saying how nice it was of you to finally return home, only to ignore me the same as when you were gone.”

  He had somehow moved closer to her during the exchange, and she wondered why. This was not, she had to admit, one of her finest moments. This was, in fact, one of the very things James would have cited as a perfectly good reason to beat her.

  That thought stopped her in her tracks. Eli had not been like James so far, but what if this would push him over the edge. What if this would be the time that everything changed?

  She bit down on her lip to keep herself from saying something else that might put her in more trouble. When she risked a look in his direction, she saw he was watching her curiously, something she couldn’t identify in his eyes.

  “Yes?” She tried not to snap the word at him, but there was something distinctly unflattering about being studied, and even with effort, the word came out a little strangled.

  “Just thinking about why you do that.”

  “I like them better without the skin.”

  He blinked at her. Twice. Then the smallest grin lifted up one corner of his mouth, and his teeth flashed a bright white against the darkness of his new beard. “That is not what I meant.”

  She noticed that heat between them was back. “Oh,” was all she could manage, thinking suddenly that it would be best if there were some space between them.

  “Just wondering why you get so angry and then pretend like you aren’t. I have to be honest, your anger is refreshing.” There was something almost animalistic in his smile now, and, unnervingly, it brought back memories of that bear in the dark, flashing its teeth in her direction. “I would even say I like it.”

  “Would you?” she asked, feeling her breath hitch, hating that he could elicit something so breathy and coy from her.

  His smile was definitely predatory now, but Lilly wasn’t feeling much like prey. At least, not the kind that would mind being caught. “I definitely would. I like a feisty woman.”

  “Do you?” she asked, more surprised than flirtatious. It had never occurred to her that feisty women could be liked. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she might be feisty.

  “Absolutely. Don’t you like your men with a little bite?”

  There was something dangerously seductive about this whole conversation, and Lilly realized they were starting to slide into territory they’d already established they shouldn’t be branching into.

  “I don’t like men.” She hoped that might stop their progress, but it didn’t.

  Eli’s eyebrows rose dramatically, and he brought that hand back up to his chin. “I seem to recall you liking at least a little bit of me not too long ago.”

  Lilly had the good grace to blush. “That was an exceptional situation,” she corrected.

  “Like, a situation where you forgot that you don’t like men?” There was the smallest tilt to his head, rueful, teasing. She blushed despite herself.

  “Exactly.” Her tone was dark and she didn’t mind it. They were going to have to stop talking like this or she knew he was going to kiss her again. And even if part of her was dying to feel his hands on her and his mouth against hers, she absolutely meant it when she said she didn’t like men. And Eli happened to be a man. So that was just going to have to be the end of that.

  But, even as she was convincing herself she didn’t want anything from him at all, she turned more fully toward him, setting the knife down by the pile of potatoes — some still sporting their skin — her body on high alert, daring him to reach out to her.

  When he did, his fingers sliding under the apron tie to tug her toward him, she offered no resistance, and instead stepped in toward him until their toes were nearly touching. “Not at all,” he asked, his voice throaty, the clean strong scent of him heady and distracting.

  “That is correct,” she said, even as his mouth moved into hers. He took his time, the kiss slow and gentle, his mouth angling over hers, capturing hers again and again until she wanted to melt into him.

  In fact, she realized, her whole body was pressed into his, her arms linked behind his neck, her fingers tentatively playing through his hair.

  He groaned against her, drawing her more tightly to him, one big hand on her waist, his thumb moving over the point of her hip. “I see what you mean about not liking men,” he managed between kisses. “It’s actually quite clear, now that you mention it.”

  “Oh, stop,” she said, unable to ignore the urge to pull his mouth back to hers a moment longer.

  He moved his hands up to the collar of her dress, letting his fingers brush against her skin. She tipped her head to the side to give him better access, and with that invitation, he let his fingers move down the front of her bodice, deftly undoing the buttons along the way

  The cotton of her dress was soft, but nothing compared to the smooth expanse of her skin and the silk of the chemise she wo
re beneath it.

  Through the thin fabric of the underclothes, Eli cupped her breast and let his thumb move over her nipple, teasing the sensitive skin to a peak. She moaned into his mouth, letting one of her own hands slide over the expanse of his chest

  Eli felt himself quiver beneath the feather-light touch. He knew he shouldn’t let the kiss continue; it had already gone much further than it should have. But the feel of her, the scent of her — it was intoxicating.

  He’d known the moment she’d opened the door, the apron around her waist, her hair coming undone from whatever loose knot she’d put it up into earlier. He’d watched the surprise, the pleasure, the irritation, play through her storm colored eyes, and he’d felt himself harden in response. And he knew he was going to have to have her.

  He’d thought the time apart from her would be enough to squelch the desire he had for her, but it hadn’t. Truthfully, he wanted her now more than he had in the past. His time away from her had only highlighted his urgent need for her.

  She was sweet and genuine in her response to him, something about her gave him the feeling she hadn’t experienced as much of a man’s touch as she should have, which was downright surprising to him, considering he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her.

  Lilly’s hands were staying appropriately above his waist, which was hardly bearable. He could feel himself straining against the fabric of his pants, aching for her to move her sweet caresses down a little lower.

  She broke away from him, her breathing ragged. “We should not be doing this.” Another sweet sound of pleasure escaped her as he continued to play with her nipple.

  “Agreed,” he said in that same throaty voice he saved for occasions like this, when she was partly dressed and entirely off guard. “Stopping would most assuredly be in our best interest.”

  Even as he said the words, though, he was sliding her dress off her shoulder, letting the fabric slide down her body until it pooled at her feet, admiring her shape now that there was little to hide it from him. He paused, waiting for her to tell him to stop and mean it. When she said nothing, watching him from beneath her heavy lidded eyes, he reached down to tug her chemise up, exposing her shapely thigh to his gaze and touch.

  He made a sound of satisfaction that brought a new blush of color to Lilly’s face, and pulled her back toward him, lifting her until she was perched on the counter and he was pressing into her, slipping his hand up over her bare calf and toward her thigh. His fingers were rough and tender, and she liked the way they felt against her skin. When they wandered up further, drifting toward the inside of her thigh, she didn’t stop his exploration.

  “I may have been mistaken,” she said, between short breaths.

  “Mistaken?” he asked, trying to give her as much of his attention as he could, but finding it difficult to pull himself away from her skin and the warmth he knew was just within his reach.

  “About not liking men.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “You like all the men now?”

  She blushed prettily, and he felt another throb in his loins in response. “Only you. On occasion.”

  He nodded. “I can accept that. For now.” He moved his hand up further, letting his fingers brush against her core and her body trembled in response. “I’m sure I can think of a few ways to increase those occasions.” He let his thumb move over her clit, and was rewarded with another tremble before she pushed his hand away.

  “No. Stop,” she said, blushing deeply. “I’m…wet.”

  The admission caught him by surprise, and left him aching. He chuckled. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

  “You mustn’t be serious.” That little edge of indignation and propriety had crept back into her voice and he fought to hide his grin from her.

  “Of course I am. You should be wet.”

  “Oh.”

  “Trust me. I’ll show you.” He leaned forward to catch her mouth in his again, letting his fingers slide back up against her, slipping between her silken lips to stroke the tender flesh there. She was warm and wet, and he wanted nothing more than to burying himself deep within her, to see how wet she could become, to listen to her continue to make those breathy little sounds as he moved in and out of her.

  He set a gentle rhythm with his fingers, his thumb making lazy circles over her clit, his own erection begging for attention. “That is quite nice,” she whispered as he continued his gentle caresses.

  “Very nice,” he agreed. “I’d like to taste how sweet you are.”

  She moaned as he found her clit again. She arched against him, pulling herself closer to him, letting his fingers slide as deeply into her as they could. “This is,” she said, before repeating the words again, unsure how to finish what she wanted to say.

  Her trembling had become almost violent, the waves of pleasure sending her toward orgasm, and she cried out and tightened around him. His hand stilled, and he withdrew his hand from beneath her skirt.

  Lilly didn’t meet his eyes. It didn’t seem possible that the ragged breathing she heard in her own ears was coming from her, but she knew that it must be. “You shouldn’t. We shouldn’t.”

  She couldn’t seem to figure out what to say. Still trapped between his thighs and little shivers moving through her, she felt like she was suffocating. She put a hand to his chest and gave him a little nudge.

  He stepped back easily, and she slid down off the counter, wishing desperately she was wearing more than just the thin underclothes.

  “I’m sorry,” Eli said, his eyes hooded. “I didn’t mean to upset you —”

  “It’s alright,” she interrupted, her head bowed. “It’ll be just fine.”

  There was another long awkward beat between them, and when she lifted her eyes it was to look longingly toward the bedroom, like she couldn’t wait to walk out of the situation.

  Eli gave her the exit she wanted, mostly because he couldn’t stand that she was so eager to forget what had just happened.

  He moved away from her and back toward the door. The look on her face was too much for him, and he said to the room more than to her, “I’ll be home tonight.”

  7

  Eli dragged a hand through his hair as he stumbled out into the daylight, struggling to pull himself together.

  He was unbelievable.

  It didn’t matter how many times he told himself Lilly was off limits. When she was around, he couldn’t keep his paws off of her.

  He needed a drink. More than just one. And a woman. A woman who would make him forget about Lilly.

  And he had just the place to find one.

  Eli studied the women through a thin haze of alcohol. He’d hoped that the brothel might ease the ache that had permanently set up shop in his loins since Lilly’s arrival.

  But, no such luck. He tried to admire the swell of their ample bosoms, the roundness of their asses, and the suggestive flounce to their dresses. Their lined eyes and lips should have easily worked on him; after all, he’d hired them all for a particular purpose and they more than kept their end of the bargain, their rooms full.

  But each time his eyes drifted to one of them, he could only think of Lilly. Being there with them actually just made him feel worse.

  Right about the time he had that realization was when he started to order the drinks.

  Ordering without paying was a sort of novelty, though he knew he was paying the tab in the grander scheme of things, so he didn’t let it distract him too much. He was glad he’d chosen to make the splurge on some decent top shelf brands, and he was thrilled he had hired women who knew how to keep his glass full.

  There had been a flurry of activity when he’d first stepped through the door. He knew the brothel had been awfully chatty since Lilly’s first arrival. He’d taken great pains to make sure they were seen together on a regular basis, arm in arm and in public. He had rarely made a social visit, but he wasn’t in the frame of mind to worry about how it might look for him to start.

  And now he was here,
drinking like a fish. Alone. Angry. And not doing a good job of hiding it.

  And his employees were professionals, after all. They saw their in and were all over it.

  One girl in a blonde wig and wearing lipstick the color of wine said she’d redecorated her bedroom and asked if he wanted a tour.

  He’d politely said no, but for just one moment wondered what it might be like to take her up there and spread her out beneath him. He could get hard, no doubt. He barely had to think about how Lilly’s mouth felt against his and he was straining for release.

  But it wouldn’t be the same. And somehow knowing Lilly was just a short walk away made it that much worse.

  Instead of following the blonde up the stairs and to her room, he let her drift off, in search of another mark. He ordered another drink, not bothering to let his eyes stay on her shape as she walked away from him.

  A delicious thrill swept through Lilly, and from somewhere far away she heard a soft breath and a long moan.

  She realized, belatedly, that those sounds were her own as another little shiver went through her.

  She was having the most wonderful dream. Eli was over her, his body warm against hers. Hard and soft and all the things a body should be.

  He had slipped her nightgown up around her hips and was stroking her like he had when she’d sat on the counter. Her body was responding of its own accord, wet and ready for him. One finger slid against her cleft before two moved into her depths, beginning that slow, lazy rhythm that had brought her so much pleasure before. His thumb flicked easily over the little button of pleasure he’d unearthed and she moaned in response. Loudly.

  Which was right around the time Lilly realized she wasn’t dreaming at all. She was actually naked, spread beneath Eli while he made love to her with his hand.

  Her head tipped back, burrowing more deeply into the pillow. She should tell him to stop. She knew she should. But knowing she should tell him no and actually saying it seemed to be two entirely different beasts.

  Even as she was telling herself they should stop, she was repositioning herself beneath his hand so he would have better access to her, the slickness she had been ashamed of the last time they’d been together something she now recognized as a normal part of being intimate with someone you wanted. She’d just never experienced the wanting part before.