Grizzly Mountain (Arcadian Bears Book 1)

by Becca Jameson

  She lifted her gaze to him. “You realize that makes no sense to me. You’re asking me to stay in your house like some kind of hostage until I become a bear. Do you understand how ridiculous that sounds?”

  “Yes.”

  “Until I become a bear, Isaiah.” Her voice rose. She sat straighter, releasing her knees to throw her hands in the air. “I’m human, Isaiah. I’m not going to become a bear. And if for some reason I actually did shift, as you say, I’d have to assume I’d gone stark raving mad, and it wouldn’t matter if I left with anyone out front or not.”

  He nodded. “I get it. I do. And I don’t know what else to say to make you more comfortable.”

  Joselyn spoke again. “I’m gonna go now, but if you need me, Isaiah can reach me. I’ll come right back. It’s not far.”

  Heather nodded.

  Joselyn stood, leaned over, and gave Isaiah a half-hug around his shoulders without making him move. “Just yell if you need me.”

  “Thanks.”

  She slipped silently from the room.

  Isaiah lowered himself to sit on his butt on the floor. He said nothing, letting Heather be in peace for as long as she needed.

  Suddenly, she moaned and stretched out her legs. “I’m so hot. What the hell do you keep the temperature set at in here?” She pulled herself to standing along the wall. “I need to change.”

  He jumped to his feet. “Why don’t you put on something else? That’s a good idea. Do you have shorts?”

  “It’s Alberta, Canada, in the winter. I didn’t bring any shorts. But I do have tank tops. I like to sleep in them.”

  “That’ll work.”

  She wandered over to her suitcase.

  He followed close at her side and then stood at her back.

  “Will you leave so I can change?”

  “No. Heather, I’m not going to leave you.” Shit. Shit and fuck. This sucked so badly.

  She stood and spun around, holding the smallest swatch of fabric he’d ever seen.

  Again, shit.

  “I’m not changing clothes in front of you, Isaiah.”

  “I saw you naked two hours ago.”

  “Don’t remind me. It’s humiliating. And you’re not seeing me naked again, so step out of the room and let me change.” She pointed at the door.

  He was still trying to imagine how difficult it was going to be seeing her in that tiny excuse for a shirt she held in her hand, let along naked. The tank top was probably worse than naked.

  “How about if I give you one of my T-shirts instead.”

  “Why? How is that going to help?” She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her gaze.

  “Because whatever you’re holding in your hand is going to make my cock harder than a rock when you put it on. At least in one of my shirts, your body will be completely covered, and I won’t be able to see every damn contour. Plus, you could take your jeans off. My shirt will hang low enough.”

  She flinched. “Fine.”

  Thank God.

  He turned around, yanked open a drawer, and grabbed the first shirt on top. It was black. Even better. For his sanity. He handed it to her, reaching out as far as his arm would stretch to avoid pissing her off further by touching her.

  She grabbed the shirt and then surprised him by turning around and hauling her own T-shirt over her head.

  He swallowed his tongue when her bare back came into view. She hadn’t been wearing a bra.

  As fast as she could, she dropped her shirt, dragged his T over her head, and then shrugged out of her jeans.

  He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. When he opened them again, she stood before him in nothing but his T, hands on her hips. “Whatever you’re thinking, forget it. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m hotter than the third circle of hell. And I’m also thirsty. Can we at least get water?”

  “Of course.” He spread his arm out to indicate she should pass him. He would follow her to the kitchen. Surely she didn’t intend to run for the front door and bolt out into the cold air with no shoes and nothing but a T-shirt. But he wasn’t going to let his guard down long enough to give her the opportunity.

  She headed straight for his kitchen with hardly a limp. Impressive how quickly she healed, even though she hadn’t shifted yet. She went directly to his fridge, pulled it open, and grabbed a water. In moments she downed it. “I’m hungry, but I’m also queasy.”

  “Probably better if you wait until after you shift to eat.”

  She sighed and walked past him to get to the couch.

  He watched the way her ass swayed, the T-shirt so long on her it nearly reached her knees. Maybe he should have let her put on the tank.

  Suddenly, she bolted forward, running flat out for the front door.

  Fuck.

  He took off after her, reaching her in far less strides and flattening her to the door with his hands on both sides of her body before she could reach for the handle.

  They were both breathing heavily as he set his chin on the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.” He held her tight against the door, his body pressing into hers, his cock jumping to attention at her back.

  She let out a soft cry and sagged against him, defeated.

  He eased off enough to snake an arm around her waist and hold her against his chest, and then he lifted her off the ground, spun around, and headed for the couch. The T-shirt rose under his grip, but he forced himself not to look down. Instead, he swung her more fully into his embrace, tucking his other arm under her knees.

  How many times had he carried her like this so far today? He could get used to it. He already was.

  She started crying in earnest, her face tucked against his pecs.

  His chest ached to know how much emotional pain she was in. He lowered himself onto the couch, held her tight against his body, and stroked a hand through her hair, dislodging the bun.

  She grabbed the loose band and rolled it onto her wrist.

  “I’m sorry, baby. So sorry.” What else could he say?

  She cried.

  He let her.

  It seemed like forever before her sobs turned to whimpers and she settled.

  He lifted the hem of her T-shirt and wiped the tears off her face, forcing himself to ignore the fact that he was exposing her. “If I could make this easier, I would.”

  She squirmed, pushing on him suddenly. “Let me go.”

  He held her tighter. “Please. Don’t fight me.”

  She wiggled her butt against his cock in an effort to escape, which only made things worse.

  He gritted his teeth against the need to possess her.

  “Dammit, Isaiah, I can’t sit on your lap.”

  “Why the hell not?” He gripped her ass to keep her from rubbing so hard against his cock.

  She jerked her gaze toward him, fisted his T-shirt in her hands at his shoulders, and tried to shake him. “Because I’m fucking turned on. Because every time you touch me, I can’t think of anything except you fucking me. Because it’s irrational, and I’m suffering from some sort of Stockholm syndrome or something. Because you already fucking turned me down once, and it hurt like hell, and it gave me a goddamn complex. So let me go.”

  He stared at her for a heartbeat, and then he ran his hand up her back and threaded his fingers into her hair again. He yanked her forward and pressed his lips against hers so fast, he couldn’t stop himself.

  Pure instant bliss. He lost all sense, drowning in her, exactly as he had earlier.

  And holy mother of God, she softened. She still gripped his shirt, but her body leaned into his. She kissed him back as if her life depended on it. And then she swung herself around and straddled his lap. When her pussy landed over his stiff erection, he groaned and tugged her hair, pulling and pushing at the same time.

  She was on fire, literally. And he broke the kiss to meet her gaze, not giving an inch, but needing to search her eyes.

  The look she returned was filled with desire, desperation.

 
; “I need to be inside you so badly it hurts,” he stated, his voice more of a growl.

  “Please. God, Isaiah, please. Stop talking about fucking bears and shifting and just fuck me. I can’t stand it another minute.”

  Chapter Eight

  Heather couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop this madness. She didn’t want to. She had never been more confused in her life, but one thing was absolutely certain. She wanted to have sex with Isaiah more than anything in the world.

  She didn’t care if it was a horrible idea, if he was certifiable, if he was holding her hostage. She was drawn to him in a way that was undeniable. She burned for him. It hadn’t let up for a moment since he’d backed off and told her no.

  She ached for him while he straddled her body and held her to the bed. She even ached for him while his sister stood in the room yapping on and on about bear shifters and then performing an amazing magic act.

  It boiled down to two possibilities—either it was all true and she was about to become another animal, or Isaiah’s family could pull off the most monumental of all practical jokes. Either way, she still wanted to fuck this giant of a man in complete defiance of all logic.

  What difference did it make? She didn’t believe he was dangerous. Just deranged. Judging by the way he’d made her come so hard she saw stars earlier, she had no doubt he could fuck her into the next dimension. Hell, maybe she had already slipped into another dimension.

  She had a one-track mind that insisted she get laid immediately. To hell with the consequences.

  Isaiah abruptly stood, taking her with him. He spun around and dropped her on the couch. As he hauled his shirt over his head—finally—he growled out a command. “Take that damn shirt off.”

  She smirked as she lifted her butt and drew the enormous T over her head.

  “The panties too, unless you want me to rip them off,” he demanded as he lowered the zipper on his jeans and shrugged them over his hips.

  She didn’t want to miss a second of this revealing, but she managed to keep her eyes glued to his torso while she lifted her hips and wiggled her panties off.

  A low constant growl escaped his lips. She doubted he was aware of it.

  God damn, he was built. Every inch of his giant body rippled with muscles. And his cock…

  She shuddered. If she were in her right mind, she would insist there was no way in hell he was going to put that inside her. But instead, in her weird state of denial, she wanted to feel every thick inch. Right. Fucking. Now.

  When he was fully naked, his cock bobbing in front of him, he leaned over her, set his hands on the back of the couch, and met her gaze. The tension in his body was palpable. “I should not take you like this. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  “Stop mumbling about goddamn animals and fuck me.”

  He grabbed her around the waist and turned her to land on her back on the couch in less than a second. And then his body was over hers, his lips on her mouth, his cock at her entrance. He held her gaze as he nudged her legs wider and pressed forward.

  She was so wet and aroused she didn’t need any foreplay, and he obviously knew it. The entire day had been foreplay. She needed to be filled. “Do it, Isaiah. I’m dying.” She grabbed his biceps and held on tight, tugging him as if she had the strength to move him a millimeter.

  His face was tense as he eased the tip of his cock into her channel. It was tight. It was going to burn for a moment, but she’d never been more sure of anything. She lifted her hips toward him as a long, slow moan escaped her mouth.

  Isaiah thrust into her as far as he could.

  She gasped, unable to breathe as he stretched her pussy so far it seemed as though she would split in two.

  His face was a mask of pain, his eyes closed. When he pulled out and thrust back in, she screamed out his name. “Isaiah.”

  His eyes fluttered open, and his face relaxed marginally as his lips parted. He lowered more fully on top of her, one arm snaking under her arm and behind her shoulder blade to fist the hair at the back of her neck. He didn’t hold back, pulling almost out and thrusting back in. Over and over.

  Words tumbled from his lips, disjointed. “Should. Not. Have. Taken. You.” His face dipped to kiss her lips as he continued thrusting. And he spoke against her mouth. “Never. Going. To. Be. Able. To. Let. You. Go.”

  Her pussy clenched around him, her orgasm barreling to the surface like a freight train as he made that declaration. At that moment, she hoped to God he never did let her go. On a whimper, she came. Hard. Her pussy gripped his cock, milking it. Her vision swam. She couldn’t focus on him. She was so hot. So very hot. And she never wanted him to stop.

  Another orgasm built on the end of the first, destroying her. Maybe she called out. Maybe she screamed. Or maybe her mouth simply opened and no sound came out.

  Isaiah fucked her faster through the second orgasm, his lips lowering to take a nipple into his mouth. He suckled it so hard it hurt, the pain welcome. Delicious. With a pop, he released the swollen bud and growled so loudly it was a wonder glass didn’t shatter. He held himself deep inside her as pure ecstasy covered his face.

  She trailed her hands from his shoulders to his face, cupping his bearded jaw in her palms, memorizing the look he had while he came.

  When he was fully spent, he continued to hover over her, his arms shaking, sweat running down his brow.

  She lifted her head to take his lips, and he lowered his face with hers to continue the kiss.

  No one would know they’d just had sex with the amount of passion Isaiah had left over to kiss the sense out of her. He devoured her. When he finally pulled back, he nibbled a path to her ear and then down to the place where her shoulder met her neck.

  She arched her head away to give him better access. He pressed his nose to the thin skin there and inhaled. His teeth grazed her skin like they had earlier, and then he also licked the spot once again.

  His lips wandered back to her ear. “You’re mine, Heather,” he whispered. “Mine.”

  She shuddered. At the moment she wanted nothing more than to be his.

  “Thank you, baby.”

  She giggled. “Do you always thank the women you fuck?”

  He lifted his face to meet her gaze. “You say that as though I fuck a different woman every night.”

  She glanced down at his body, her hands weaving into the back of his hair. “You’re the sexiest man in North America. Don’t tell me women aren’t lined up to get a piece.”

  He chuckled this time. “That’s ridiculous. And even if they were, I’m no longer available, so they’re wasting their time.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” One time having sex with her within hours of meeting, and he was willing to declare his undying love and devotion? Too cheesy.

  He groaned as he slid from her sheath and pushed off the couch, taking her with him.

  Cradled against his chest where she spent most of her time, she let her body go limp as he carried her through the house, down the hall, into the master bedroom, and through to the bath. He still held her as he flipped on the shower. And he still held her as he waited for it to heat up.

  Then he smirked. “On second thought, I think we need it cold.” Stepping into the enclosure and directly under the spray of water, he sighed.

  She sighed also. The water felt amazing. She tipped her face back and let it run down her forehead and cheeks.

  “Damn, you’re sexy.” He righted her so she slid down his body to land on her feet.

  Her legs were rubber, however, and buckled the second her feet hit the tile.

  Isaiah had her, though. He didn’t let her go. “Easy, baby.”

  As she regained muscular control, he kept one hand on her back and reached for the soap. With amazing dexterity, he ran the bar all over her body. Her nipples stretched to painful peaks. When he reached between her legs, she spread them wider, willing him to touch her more.

  He kissed her shoulder and ran his fingers through her folds.
“You okay? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “Amazing.”

  Her hair was a tangled mess all around her face and neck. As water plastered the long strands to her shoulders and the small of her back, she closed her eyes.

  Suddenly, the world started spinning. She grew so dizzy, she had to grab his arms to steady herself. But it got worse. A tight ball in her belly squeezed, making her lean forward. She thought she might vomit.

  The water was cool against her skin, but it wasn’t enough anymore. She was burning up. With fever? She moaned.

  Isaiah had a tight hold on her as she lowered to her knees, unable to remain upright. He shoved the glass door open, lifted her by the waist, and set her on the soft oval rug outside the shower. “All fours, baby.” His voice sounded distant, like she was under water.

  He must have reached back to shut off the water, but he didn’t let go of her waist. His hands were all over her as he stepped over her body, let the shower door shut, and kneeled at her side. He stroked her back.

  Her hair fell in clumps all around her face, sticking to her cheeks and her neck and hanging toward the floor. Was she going to be sick? She wasn’t sure.

  Whatever was happening to her was foreign.

  “Let it happen, baby. Don’t try to stop it.” His words soothed from a great distance. His hand on her back made small circles. His other hand attempted to lift her hair from her face.

  Something popped. A bone? It didn’t hurt, but it resounded in her ears as if it came from within. A wave of pressure built under her skin over every inch of her body, including her scalp. Heart attack? Stroke? Aneurysm? Would she die on Isaiah’s bathroom floor? From the bear scratch?

  The pressure mounted. She thought she would explode, her insides and brain matter splattering the bathroom. But it didn’t happen. Instead a new sensation took the place of the pressure. It was a welcome relief. It consumed her just the same but wasn’t as frightening. Soothed, she sighed, thinking she’d dodged a bullet by not vomiting in front of Isaiah on his bathroom floor.