Clay (BBW Secret Baby Bear Shifter Romance) (Secret Baby Bears Book 4)

by Becca Fanning

  Candace sighed. “I know.”

  She pulled away from him and returned to their room. Luke closed the class doors and the curtains behind him.

  “If you’re not ready, I understand.” He voice was soft, gentle.

  Candace glanced back at him and knew she’d never know another man more honorable than he. She shook her head.

  “I think I’ve been waiting for this moment—for you—my whole life.”

  His smile warmed his golden eyes. “I know I’ve been waitin’ for you, darlin’.

  She took a deep breath and considered, not wanting to break the spell but needing him to understand.

  “I know how it’s supposed to work. I’ve lived surrounded by sex my entire life. I’ve had men stare at me, and I know they wanted me in that way. I had to sing and dance for them, while pretending they weren’t there. It was easier, when I was a little girl, because I didn’t know what was under the glitter, the fancy dresses, the handsome men, the beautiful women. I was thirteen before the Manager let some of the…women…tell me things, things about what went on behind closed doors, what I could expect as I got older. I’m not sure I believed them. Maybe I just didn’t want to believe them, because I knew that life—their life—was not for me. Mama said so. The Manager said so. They both continued to tell me so—until two days ago.”

  She ran her hands through her hair releasing it from the pins that held it in place and shaking it out. She set the pins carefully on the dresser then turned to face him.

  “I have knowledge of what goes on between a man and a woman, Luke, but I don’t have a clue what you want me to do.”

  He crossed to her and enfolded her in his arms.

  “What I want you to do is forget all that,” he told her as he rocked her gently. “All that stuff those women taught you, that’s not what this is about, what we’re about.”

  Candace pulled back and studied his face closely in the dim light.

  “Are you saying you don’t want me in that way?” she asked in surprise.

  He shook his head. “I’m sayin’ this isn’t about ‘sex’, darlin’. Or at least it’s not only about sex. I’m not gonna just have sex with you. I’m gonna make love with you. Now maybe those women didn’t know the difference. Maybe your mama didn’t know the difference. But tonight I need you to know the difference.

  She shook her head, incredulous. “How can you love me after only two days?”

  Luke smiled and brushed the hair back from her face. “There’re all kinds of love, darlin’,” he said. “There’s what we already have for each other, based on courage and mutual respect. There’s what we’re gonna feel come mornin’, when we wake up makin’ love together in that big bed. Then there’s what we’re gonna feel for each other when we’re both old and gray and watchin’ our grandkids play.”

  Candace felt tears threaten and reached up to take his face between her soft palms. “Courage and mutual respect is a good place to start,” she whispered.

  She pulled his face to her then, and their lips met.

  The contact was charged and in no time they were struggling with the fastenings on their clothing. She pushed the suit jacket off his shoulders, he drug her soft sweater up and over her head. Even as they continued the dance, Candace felt her belly clench in anticipation, wanting him inside of her, needing to surround him. Maybe this wouldn’t last. Maybe it couldn’t last. But if it didn’t, it wouldn’t be because of either of them. There might be outside forces that pulled them apart, but she now knew those forces would have a fight on their hands.

  In another moment, they were completely naked and tossing pillows to the floor as they rolled around on the huge bed. Luke was laughing, but Candace could only marvel at his physique. Tall, yes, but his body was a miracle of smooth skin over hard muscles that contracted wherever she touched him. His chest was covered with a delicious, dark-brown fur that was incredibly soft and silky under her lips and tongue.

  “Ah, darlin’,” he moaned, when she found his nipples with her mouth, “It’s gonna be over too soon, iffen you keep that up.”

  She sat up on him, her thighs straddling his. “You don’t like that?”

  He grinned helplessly. “What I like doesn’t have anythin’ to do with it, darlin’.

  Her smile blossomed, and she shifted, sending a jolt through both of them as her secret place rubbed against that one part of him that was hardest and hottest of all. She took him into her hands then, wanting to know all of him.

  “They showed me pictures,” she whispered as her fingers explored him, “but I never knew how it would feel…”

  Luke laughed and lifted her off him, tossing her aside then coming down on top of her. She clenched, suddenly afraid, certain that it couldn’t possibly fit inside of her, and the pain many of the women spoke of would ruin this for her.

  Luke seemed to feel her withdrawal, because he settled on his elbows and began to kiss her again.

  “It’s gonna work, darlin’,” he said as though reading her mind. “I promise.”

  His lips trailed over her face and down her neck. When they reached her breasts, she dug her fingers into the bedding, and arching her back, she begged him for more. He gave it to her, but only for a moment before moving on down her body, pausing along the way long enough to nip her ribs and belly with his teeth.

  Mad with wanting, she opened her legs wide in invitation, and she felt him touch her there. She gasped as his fingers found her, and wetness gushed.

  “Luke!”

  “I have you, darlin’,” he said, his voice a husky growl. She felt his big hands lifting her hips off the bed

  “Please!”

  “We’ll get there,” he promised. “Just wait. But this is your first time, and I gotta make it right for you.”

  “No! Please! Don’t wait! I can’t stand it if you wait!”

  “Sure you can,” he said on a chuckle, his lips roaming farther.

  But when she screamed, he came up over her again, and that part of him that had made her afraid was coming inside her. Her inner muscles clenched around him, and suddenly there was only Luke as they cried out and tumbled over the edge together.

  The recording session had gone particularly well, today, and Candace thought she might begin to float she was so happy, as she helped Luke pack up his drums. His brothers and uncle were loading the rest of the gear into the van while Mel and Addy sorted the music and filed it safely away. In a few minutes they would be heading out for dinner then going home again.

  Home, she thought with a smile. Uncle Bart had bought the second house, so she and Luke now had the first floor of the first house to themselves. In the past three weeks they had made love in every room, and she found herself blushing at odd times, remembering the pleasure. That was the one thing her mother and the other women had never mentioned, and she wondered if any of them had ever known pleasure with a man.

  Candace found her eyes roaming to her husband, enjoying the ripple of his muscles under his snug t-shirt as he loaded the vehicle.

  “Never gets old, does it” Mel whispered in her ear.

  Candace started then blushed when she looked up to see both Mel and Addy watching her, their grins telling her they knew just what she’d been thinking about. She started to speak, then froze in terror when she heard a familiar voice

  “You really thought you’d get away from me, didn’t you?”

  Candace turned to face the one man in the entire world she had prayed day and night she would never have to meet again.

  The Manager hadn’t changed. Even in the bright lights of the studio, he was all darkness, from his ebony skin to his black-pinstriped suit, to his black shirt and tie. The four men at his back—two black and two white—were dressed in much the same way, though she knew their clothing would not be as finely cut.

  “Candace, Mel, Addy,” Luke said. “Come over this way.”

  All three women began to comply, but the Manager pulled a gun and pointed it at Luke.

&
nbsp; “I don’t think so. I’ve just come for what’s mine,” he said in an amazingly smooth voice. Candace knew under that smoothness there seethed a bubbling caldron of fury—all of it directed at her.

  “There’s nothin’ here that’s yours,” Luke said, sounding remarkably calm for someone with a gun pointed at him.

  “Don’t bet your life on it,” the Manager said, letting just a hint of the heat show. “I spent a lot of time and money on this particular whore, and she belongs to me. I’m just here to take back what’s mine.”

  Candace forced herself to take one step toward him. “Don’t hurt anybody,” she said. “Please.”

  The Manager’s eyes flickered only briefly to her, before he ignored her.

  “Saul, Johnny. Get her.”

  Two of his minions began to move toward Candace. They ignored the other women which was their mistake. Suddenly a scream rent the air, and Candace turned just in time to see a mountain lion leap for one of the men. The Manager turned in surprise, raised his gun, and fired, but his shot went wide, and before he could make an adjustment, he was flattened under the charge of a vicious bear. Only seconds passed, and before the other men could get to their own weapons, the room was suddenly filled with bears, who were taking down the bad men like a farmer harvests his grain.

  Once every last one of them was down, the Saint men Shifted back so they could disarm each of them. They conveniently found handcuffs on the four minions, which the brothers used to subdue them. Luke picked up the manager’s gun and pressed it to the man’s forehead.

  “Don’t shoot him, Luke!” Candace cried. “Please!”

  Luke controlled himself, but just barely.

  “What the hell is going on in here?”

  The studio manager, hearing the commotion, came bursting into the room.

  “Call 911,” Bart said. “These clowns tried to kidnap our women.”

  Candace lay in her husband’s arms late that night, and tried to sleep. He had loved her slowly and carefully, trying to set her mind at ease, but she still couldn’t turn off the images of the day’s fiasco at the studio.

  At least it’s finally over, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. I suppose I should worry about what’s going to happen to my mother, but I just can’t.

  “Hey, you still awake?” Luke asked in a sleepy voice.

  She nodded. “I can’t help it.”

  Luke shifted, letting her down carefully so he could lean over her.

  “It really is over,” he reminded her. “The cops believed everything we told them, because they wanted to. The so-called “Manager” has been on their radar for a long time, and you gave them what they needed to bring the guy’s whole empire down. They owe you, and they know it. That lieutenant who showed up promised to keep you out of it, so you’ll never have to testify. It really is over, darlin’.”

  She shook her head. “I know. It’s just that I can’t get the picture of him pointing his gun at you out of my mind.” She reached up to play with the silky fur on his chest with trembling fingers. “If Addy hadn’t…” She broke off, still finding it hard to believe what her new friend had done.

  Luke grinned, though. “Addy was sure somethin’, wasn’t she?”

  Candace had to smile, too. “Yes. Yes, she was.”

  He grasped her roving hand in his and held it to his lips.

  “We’re all right, then, aren’t we?”

  She searched his eyes in the dim light and reached her other hand up to cup his face.

  “I think I love you, Luke Saint,” she whispered, surprising herself at the depth of the feelings she already had for this man whom she hadn’t even known a month.

  He took a deep breath. “I’m glad to hear it, darlin’, ’cause I love you, too.”

  “Do you?”

  He nodded. “Do I need to show you some more?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “You don’t need to do anything. Of course, if you want to...”

  Luke sighed with satisfaction. “I’ll be happy to do just that, darlin’—for the rest of my life.”

  He settled over her, and she opened to him, cradling him between her thighs as he entered her slowly but inexorably. Then he was moving inside of her once more, and all her cares went the way of all bad dreams at the break of day.

  John

  Bearly Saints IV

  by

  Becca Fanning

  Meg Baker sighed as she watched the setting sun slip below the horizon. So much for all my planning, she thought, feeling the now-familiar twinges of fear and uncertainty that had plagued her from the moment she’d stepped out of the safe confines of Manhattan’s posh Plaza Hotel the night before. She had purposely waited until after Daylight Savings Time to leave, just so she would be able to take a bus that would both depart after ten p.m. and arrive in Nashville before dark.

  “The best laid plans of mice and men,” she whispered, paraphrasing Robert Burns’ famous line.

  Meg stared out at the passing landscape, so flat here in northern Tennessee but also so incredibly green. She had never ridden on a bus before, nor—to her knowledge—had she ever driven on an Interstate, beyond what it took to get from various airports to their city centers. Hers had been a life of chauffeured limousines, first-class trains, and first-class planes. Now, after almost twenty-four hours of seeing how the other half traveled, she was exhausted. And frightened, she had to admit, but also determined to see this through.

  As a world-class violin soloist, she knew she could get a job playing somewhere, if only she could manage to not be recognized, and she’d thought Nashville would be a good place to start. It was a city of music, but music so unlike what she normally played, that perhaps she could manage to stay under her father’s radar for the time it took her to establish herself in another place, another career.

  Good luck with that, her inner voice said, making her stomach clench yet again.

  That little voice was right, of course. If her father did not already have a private investigator on her trail, she would be surprised. Actually, it wouldn’t surprise her to see her father waiting for her at the bus terminal in Nashville, but she hoped not.

  She had been careful. Her father always, without fail, disappeared into his suite at nine-thirty sharp on any night she wasn’t performing. He was rarely alone and always left orders not to be disturbed. Having lost her mother at a very early age, Meg had no illusions about what her father did with the beautiful women who seemed to always be available to him in whatever city they were visiting, and she had learned early to cherish these rare nights of knowing her father was otherwise occupied.

  Meg had her one soft bag and her old violin packed and ready to go, along with her new ID and the cash she had been stashing away over the past six months, thanks to various maids and bellhops who were only too happy to change the one-hundred dollar bills her father insisted she carry to impress people for much smaller denominations in exchange for a generous tip. Dressed in jeans, simple walking shoes, and a warm, serviceable coat she had purchased from one of the hotel maids, she’d slipped out of her suite just after her father had turned in for the night, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to the opulent lobby below. Before stepping out of the stairwell, she’d donned a plain, navy blue baseball-style cap, pulling her white-blond tail out the hole in the back—like she’d seen women on the streets do֫—then wrapping a scarf around her neck to both ward off the chill night air and hide the rest of her hair. She’d thought about getting a Yankee’s cap, but had opted for a plain one, since she was headed for Nashville and didn’t want to stick out as an out-of-towner once she reached her destination. Her eastern-educated, upper-class accent would be enough of a giveaway.