“It’s more than a playhouse,” Tank said, his voice warming as he talked about something he clearly loved. “It’s called a tiny house. They’ve become really popular in the last few years. People who want to live off the grid, or just downsize and spend their money on something besides a huge mortgage on a McMansion.”
He hesitated, looking almost shy. “Do you want to see inside?”
Lissa had never known anyone who could do something like this. Her stepfather had been a deadbeat prick who could barely hold down a job, and on the streets, most everyone she knew stole for a living, or ran drugs or guns or chop shops.
No one built things or made things. No one created things that made people smile, just looking at them. Even the People of Ursus had made practical things, not beautiful ones.
But Tank, big brawling grizzly Tank, had fairy-tale cottages in his soul. She found herself smiling, her chest feeling warm inside.
“Are you kidding?” She was already in love with the outside. It looked like a magical house.
Tank opened the door and ushered her inside. She liked when he did that—like he had when they left the police station. It made her feel fragile and special.
“Wow,” she said, walking inside. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”
It was all wood paneled inside, but rather than feeling dark and close, it felt cozy and homey. He’d used different colored woods for the paneling, and in the middle of one wall he’d made them into a sunburst pattern, like a built-in piece of art.
There was a full kitchen—tiny, but with everything you could need. A small fridge, and a stove with a mini-oven, and even a miniature dishwasher and a washer/dryer combo tucked under a countertop. There was an itsy-bitsy living area, and a bathroom with a galvanized metal cowboy tub and a shower head over it.
Best of all, there were two lofts—one at either end. One had a mattress in it—a big one that could fit two people—but covered in plastic as if no one had used it yet. The other loft had a storage area, and a futon in front of a widescreen TV.
It was perfect.
Lissa ran her fingers over the smooth wood surfaces, the shiny appliances. “This is amazing,” she breathed. “Are you going to live in it?”
Tank laughed, and gestured to himself. “Have you met me? I’m huge. Building a tiny house is one thing, for a guy my size. Living in it is another. I need my California King and two-story living room. I don’t mind sharing with Flynn.”
“Then why did you build it?” she asked curiously.
He shrugged. “I like building things. I used to build regular houses, back when…in my old life,” he said.
When he’d been with Angie. When he’d had a normal life.
“But tiny houses…” he shook his head. “Each one can be completely unique. And I get to do the construction from top to bottom, and all the finishes, and…I don’t know. It’s like a little den that somebody could live in, who can’t afford a house. It’s on wheels, so it can even be moved, like a trailer, but…”
“But homier,” Lissa said. “It’s magical in here.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking pleased. “It’s almost done—I just need to stain and seal the deck, and finish some of the trim on the inside, and hook up all the utilities.”
“So then what are you going to do with it?” she asked. “Are you going to sell it?” She remembered him talking about the crew needing to get jobs and make money, but her heart already hurt at the thought of this place going to a stranger.
He looked down, rubbing at a tiny rough spot on the paneling. “I need to sand that,” he murmured. He looked up at her. “Actually, I was thinking you might want to live in it. It would give you a place of your own, like the others have.”
Lissa stared at him. She’d never imagined living anyplace this nice. This…special. “You’d lend me your tiny house?”
He shrugged one shoulder, looking embarrassed. “It’s better than an abandoned gas station.”
“Don’t diss my squat,” she said. “It’s the Taj Mahal of squats, remember?”
He grinned. “Well, I know this isn’t the serial killer lair you were looking forward to,” he said. “But it has heat. And when I finish hooking up the plumbing, it’ll have hot running water, too.”
Lissa pressed her hand to her chest and grinned at him. “Be still my heart,” she said.
Tank spent the next fifteen minutes showing her all around the tiny house and explaining how everything worked. “You can bring over some sheets and towels from the main cabin until we get you some of your own,” he said. “I’ll add them to the list.”
Lissa felt like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole. Bad things and good things had been happening one right after the other, and she didn’t know which end was up. It felt surreal.
She was about to start crying like a baby, just from people being nice to her. But Lissa Ramsey did not get scared, and she did not blubber like a baby.
Chin up.
She cleared her throat, to make sure her voice was steady. “Thank you for everything,” she said, proud that the held-back tears weren’t making her voice quiver. “You didn’t have to help me, and you didn’t have to do this for me. I hope I can repay you someday.”
He reached over to her, his warm fingers gently cupping her chin and tilting her head up. “There’s no need,” he said. “You deserve to have something go your way for a change.”
That did it. His gentle touch, the soft, caring expression in his eyes, and his kind words sent the tears rushing to her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. “Hey,” he said softly, brushing them away with his thumb. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll take care of you.”
He pulled her to him, wrapping his other arm around her and enveloping her in his warm embrace. She slid her arms around his waist and let him hold her, caressing her cheek and smoothing her hair back.
He was so warm and solid and good. She could feel his goodness inside him. She almost felt like she could see his bear.
“I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me,” she said. “I keep costing you money, and I ate all the food at lunch. And I smell funny. You said so.”
He pulled back a bit and looked down at her, a smile curving his face and softening the grim lines of his mouth. “You smell beautiful,” he said. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”
Want, her bear said softly.
“Then kiss them better,” she whispered.
He looked down at her, his green eyes soft and troubled. Then, very slowly, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.
Magic.
That first brush of lips sent warmth through her like sunshine, making her feel happy and safe and excited all at the same time. She wanted more.
She rose on tiptoe and slid her arms around his neck. Tank lifted her up and sat her on the counter top, and then kissed her again.
His lips were warm and soft and moved gently over hers, tasting and sipping. She parted her lips and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, sliding across her bottom lip, tasting deeper.
She pressed against him, feeling his thick shaft pressing against his jeans, hitting her right in the best spot between her legs as she spread them around his hips.
Tank’s fingers were tangled in her hair, his other hand sliding up and down her back, sending tingles up and down her spine.
She moaned, and that one tiny sound seemed to make him shudder. He kissed his way down the side of her neck, his scruff soft on her tender skin, his tongue tasting her, his lips caressing.
Someone pounded on the side of the house. “Hey, you guys in there? How long does it take to tour a fucking tiny house?”
Xander.
Tank rolled his eyes and blew out a sigh. Moment blown. Lissa didn’t know if she was glad or sorry. Tank made her feel things she wasn’t sure how to handle, but every time he stopped touching her, her world got colder and more lonely.
Tank went to the doorway. “What do you want?” he asked.
�
��Barbecue,” he said. “As in, we’re having one, because we have a new crew member who doesn’t know how much we suck yet, so why not celebrate? And Jasmin feels like cooking outside. You in?”
Barbecue? Lissa’s stomach rumbled, and Tank laughed.
“I guess we’re in,” he said. “Have to keep the new bear fed.”
“Okay,” Xander said. “Food in, like, I guess an hour.” He vaulted over the porch rail and took off.
Lissa tried to straighten her hair and look as dignified as she could, sitting on the countertop after being thoroughly kissed.
“So, barbecue,” she said. “Since there’s no hot water out here yet, could I change in the house? And maybe get a shower?” She frowned. “Please tell me you have a shower in there.”
A grin spread across Tank’s face. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “We have a shower.”
Chapter 17
Tank waited impatiently while Lissa got her shampoo and stuff out of her boxes, because he wanted to go with her into the bathroom and watch her face when she saw the billionaire-grade shower for the first time.
He wasn’t disappointed.
She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, and then a slow, dreamy smile spread across her face.
“Hulk,” she said, “if I die in your serial killer lair, it will be worth it if only I can have this shower first.” She walked right inside it with all her clothes on, a look of pure joy on her face.
“I want to play in it,” she announced. “Come in here and show me how, ‘cause there are a million gadgets in here and I have to know what every single one of them does.”
Grinning, he joined her inside the stall and started in. “Water, massage, steam…” He pulled her over to one side. “And wait, this is cool. See this electronic panel? You can set the shower controls to your preference, and then any time you use it, it’s just how you like it.” He showed her the buttons, and how to create her own settings.
She tapped through menus. “What’s this one for?” she asked.
Tank waggled his eyebrows at her. “Music. Because what’s a shower without Motown?”
He punched his favorite playlist.
“Get out,” Lissa said, obviously charmed. She started dancing to the music. “This is a party shower. Hell, the whole crew could fit in here.” She called out in a singsong, still bopping to the music, “Crew shower!”
Tank rolled his eyes. “No fucking way. I am not showering with Xander. And I see enough of Flynn’s dick, thank you very much. Fair warning—he doesn’t really like wearing pants.”
And the thought of Lissa staring at Flynn’s dick made his bear grumpy.
The first song ended, and a slow song came on. Lissa continued swaying to the music, but now she looked up at Tank, mischief in her eyes.
“What about you?” she asked. “Do you like wearing pants?”
He looked down at those wide blue eyes, her sexy as hell boobs, the way her ass swayed to the music. No. Right now he didn’t like wearing pants at all. In fact, he was fantasizing about stripping out of them and fucking her right up against the wall of this enormous shower, with water pouring down on them.
“Depends,” he said. “On what I’m doing. And who I’m doing it with.”
She leaned against the wall, raking her gaze up and down his body in a way that made his dick stand at attention.
“Party in the shower,” she singsonged, very softly.
Oh, hell.
“Come on,” she said, moving up to him and putting her hands on his waist. “I dare you.”
He stared down at her, the moment stretching out.
Fuck it.
Tank reached past Lissa and punched his favorite shower setting. Water poured down from the rain shower, soaking Lissa and splashing Tank.
Instead of getting mad at getting her clothes wet, Lissa threw back her head and laughed. She spread her arms out and stood face-up under the shower, as if she were standing outside in the rain.
Her joy was infectious, and happiness unexpectedly bubbled up inside him. He started laughing, too.
The water plastered Lissa’s t-shirt to her chest, and he could see the outline of her tits. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to tear her shirt off and seize her nipples gently between his teeth, and then suck on them until she got hot and wet and silky to touch.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
He eyed her. “Don’t ask unless you really want to know,” he warned her.
“I’m game,” she said. “I’m brave that way.”
Tank reached over to the torn shoulder of her t-shirt, burned through from the magical fire earlier, and bunched it between his fingers. Holding her gaze, he waited for her to tell him to let go.
She didn’t.
Taking the fabric between his hands, he slowly tore it right down the front, and then tossed it in the corner of the shower.
Hot damn, she was beautiful. As far as he was concerned, her tits were absolutely perfect. He sank to his knees in the middle of the shower, right under the waterfall, holding her gently by her tiny waist.
Then he gently closed his teeth around one pink nipple in a barely-there bite.
She gasped and swayed toward him. He released her nipple and began licking it, moving one hand to cup the bottom of her breast. Lissa grabbed his shoulders, her fingers digging in, and he took his time, drawing the nipple into his mouth to suck on it, grazing it with his teeth, licking it slowly and teasing the tightened nub with his tongue.
Then he started all over on the other side.
By the time he’d had his fill of worshiping her breasts, she was leaning into him, making sweet, sexy moaning sounds.
“That’s what I was thinking about,” he whispered.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Want to know what I’m thinking about?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “You. Naked. Kissing me.”
Tank reached back over his head and pulled his shirt off in one quick motion, sending it into the corner with hers. Then he unbuttoned her soaked jeans and pushed them down, steadying her while she stepped out of them.
While she ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, touching, caressing, he slid his hand up between her thighs. She stepped back with a mischievous grin and shook her head. “I said you naked, Mister.”
Tank grinned. “Sassy bear.”
He undid his jeans and slid them down partway, then climbed to his feet and pushed them the rest of the way off. When he straightened up, Lissa gasped and reached out towards his torso.
He looked down, realizing that the marks she’d gouged across his chest were only halfway healed, the scars still red and raw-looking. She touched the skin lightly, making him quiver.
“Did I do that?” she whispered. She looked over at his arm, where the marks of her teeth were still visible, and touched that too.
He closed his hand lightly around her wrist. “It’s okay,” he said.
She shook her head. “You were trying to help me, and I hurt you,” she said, her head down. “I’m sorry.”
She lifted his arm and kissed the bite mark, and then kissed the scars on his chest. Something felt like it broke open inside him, and his eyes stung.
Lissa slid her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. He encircled her in his own arms, and they stood there with the water pouring down on them for long minutes, as if it were washing away the pain.
Finally, Tank pulled gently away and turned her around. He poured some shampoo into the palm of his hand and massaged it into her scalp, soaping her hair thoroughly, caressing her, relaxing her. She leaned into him with a sigh, and he moved down to massage her neck and shoulders.
Then he moved his soapy hands down her slick breasts, tracing the curves of her waist, her hipbones, learning every inch of her.
He heard a little growl rumbling in her chest, and he paused. Was she getting upset? But she rubbed back against him,
rolling against his thick, upright dick, and he realized what it was.
Her bear was happy.
He poured more soap on his hand, then dipped his fingers between her legs, stroking the already slick folds. She gave a half-moan, half growl that made want flood through Tank. His dick throbbed, and all he could think about was the feel of her skin, the curves of her body, how hot and wet she was against him.
He sat down on the tile bench and pulled her around to face him, devouring her lips with his. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t think—he could only feel.
The silkiness of her tongue as she opened her mouth to him. The taste and feel of her lips. Her hands running over his body, as desperate to touch every part of him as he was to touch every part of her.
He slid his hand into her soft sex, finding her clit and circling it slowly. He teased her with feather touches alternating with firm strokes, until she was biting the side of his neck, frantic for release.
Instead, he shifted and slid his finger inside her, curving it to find her most sensitive spot.
When she pushed against him, driving his finger in deeper, he flicked her clit with his thumb and then withdrew slowly. He pushed in again, finding the rhythm she liked, and added another finger to stretch her sweet, hot pussy.
She moaned. “Tank, please,” she murmured. “Oh my god…”
He lifted one of her creamy thighs in the crook of his elbow, opening her to him, sliding his fingers into her again and again. Her mouth was on his, and then her hand found his dick and gave it a slow pull, matching the rhythm of his hand.
And he was completely undone. His bear wanted her, needed her, wanted to plunder her soft flesh, to please her in every way he could think of. He felt her muscles tense as he brought her close to the edge, and he put her over with hard strokes and soft kisses until she cried out, convulsing in waves. He held her and stroked her, pulling every aftershock out of her, murmuring how beautiful she was, how sweet, how much he wanted her.
Bad Blood Bear (Bad Blood Shifters Book 1) Page 10
