I inhaled sharply and took a step back, wanting to cover myself but there was nothing at hand.
“I’m sorry for…uh...” I started. Not knowing what to say, I gestured at my body and put a hand over my cleavage. I was practically spilling out.
“What do you mean? You look…” Brady paused as his eyes traveled up and down my body again, as if that would help him find the word he wanted. “Delicious,” he finally said. When his eyes met mine, they looked ablaze. Again, the gold glint flickered like fire in his irises. A man had never looked at me that way before, with such intense desire. A still, breathless moment held us there.
Suddenly, he stepped forward, and firmly yet gently wrapped his thick arms around my waist, pulling us tightly together. His erection pressed into me just as his lips met mine. It happened so fast, yet it wasn’t startling.
My whole body felt like it had been yearning and waiting. With shocking ease, I slid my hands up both side of his arms and gripped his wide shoulders and back while meeting Brady’s kiss. When I opened my lips, he immediately penetrated my mouth and massaged my tongue with his.
Chills went up my spine as I felt the strength and agility of Brady’s tongue, I moaned into his mouth and pressed my hips into him. His hands slid down and grabbed my ass as I heard a low growl from him.
We stepped backward slowly into the house, still interlocked, and barely aware of our surroundings. It seemed like his hands were everywhere. One on the nape of my neck and then moving up into my hair, grabbing it forcefully, while the other brushed against my jaw line, then down my down neck, and over my breasts.
Brady broke contact as he sat down on my couch, then pulled on my hand to bring me close. It was so surreal. Seeing him there on the violet couch, which looked so small compared to him, and the inflamed desire in his golden gaze.
I intended to sit next him, but Brady physically directed me to his lap and said, “No, straddle me. I want those amazing breasts in my face.”
A moment of hesitation froze me in place, and I looked down at my feet. All he said was my name, but I heard in it the same soothing balm that I had nights previous, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt like I trusted him.
When I looked back up at him, his eyes still looked desirous, but less urgent. The urgency was replace with something warmer, something patient.
I straddled his lap and the tone shifted dramatically. A slow burn held us there and, without looking away from me, he lifted his hand and traced with his index finger the hem of my tank top. I gasped. Between my legs I felt a tantalizing surge of wet heat. My chest heaved and he watched my breasts rise and fall under the thin cotton with complete fixation.
Brady hooked his fingers under the hem and bra and pulled them down, freeing each breast and sending a shiver of anticipation all over my body. What am I doing?
I bit my lower lip as he massage each breast, at first gently and then more forcefully. I whimpered slightly, wanting more, wanting everything, and he looked at me with a smirk. Brady moved his mouth to one of my nipples, never taking his eyes off me until his teeth bit down over the hard nub of flesh and then his eyes closed, as if in ecstasy.
I moaned loudly and thrust my hips into him. He growled somewhere deep in his throat as he sucked on my dark areola and with his other hand stroked, pinched, and twisted. I felt dizzy, possessed, like a wild animal. I wantonly arched my back, pressed my breasts into his face, and moaned.
Brady lifted me slightly and pushed me back onto the couch, pinned beneath him with my legs open. The weight and smell of his body made me feel so surrounded. It was intoxicating.
As he kissed my neck, I turned my head to the side and, to my surprise, caught sight of us in a large mirror leaning against a wall in the living room. At first it was titillating, watching his hands move over my body and his mouth nuzzling my neck. Then it seemed to bring an unpleasant awareness back to me, and an ugly thought came to mind at I looked at us in the mirror, He’s just using you.
I was debating whether or not to say anything when suddenly he straightened up over me, a look of concern on his face.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Brady asked as he paused.
“Um…nothing,” I said, feeling almost defeated.
Brady narrowed his eyes, and his jaw tightened. “Don’t lie, Penelope. Just tell me. What’s wrong?”
“I just don’t think I can do this right now.” I covered my face as I waited for him to argue or insult. When I peaked at him after several seconds of silence, his grey eyes looked more gentle and patient.
“It’s okay. We were moving pretty fast there.” Brady raised his eyebrows in a look of stunned surprise and exhaled with a deliberate slowness, as though to calm his own pounding heart. He smiled brightly and kissed me chastely on the lips.
The ease with which he took what I said, the way he got up and helped me find my clothes, the way he asked if we could get coffee sometime, and then his repeated insistence that I could call him anytime if I needed anything…it all made me wish we were back on the couch. Maybe I had made a mistake.
My body certainly felt like I had….
I didn’t see any more bears on the property. There was plenty else to focus on, like getting the cabins rented, and trying to make the house feel less like I was living in my mom’s tomb. I updated the website for Mom’s cabins, reviewed her documents with a lawyer, and decided to clean the cabins myself, instead of hiring a cleaning service.
I’ve always been a fan of natural light, so I removed pretty much all of the window treatments and right away the house felt more like home. Mom had a lot of possessions, and I donated much of it to local charities. I kept her photos, her old cooking pots and pans, her jewelry, and her books.
Brady had called me that evening, saying, “I meant it about getting to know you. I want to know you.” And then he added with sly humor, “And not just in the Biblical sense.”
We both laughed. I thanked him for calling to check on me, and said we’d get together soon. I was half hoping for more bears, for burst water pipes, for lights flickering, but nothing else happened. No fateful event, no sign from the universe saying this guy is genuinely into you.
I dreamed about him each night, and I guess because of the bear incident, I kept dreaming about bears, too. When I woke up in the morning, my skin felt hypersensitive to every touch of the sheets and my hands. I often slid my hands slowly down the length of my body, over my soft curves, massaging as I went, and found my pussy already hot, wet, and wanting. I imagined his head between my legs as I stroked my labia and slid a finger inside, arching my back and moaning, as if he were really there. I could practically feel him.
I brought myself to orgasm, yet still felt unfulfilled, empty. Thankfully, my to-do list was long and distracting, too.
Three days went by like that until one morning, frustrated, I broke down, and called him. He answered, seemingly already wide awake and alert in the early morning hours.
“Are you okay?” Brady asked with genuine concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just was calling because, well, I thought you might want to get coffee…er something.”
There was a pause that felt like forever, and a rush of anxious doubt filled me. What have I done?
But, finally, Brady’s voice then sounded so warm and friendly it dispelled any doubts. “Yeah, I’d love to. I’ve got a job to get to this morning though, so maybe this evening? I can make you dinner. Don’t worry, it won’t be a cheeseburger.”
I realized I was grinning into the phone, like an anxious and giddy teenager. I think he was, too.
“You cook?”
“I do. I think you’d be amazed the things I can do.”
There was something so authentically suggestive and confident in what he said that I squirmed and I bit my lip as if to contain myself. His low, growling tone affected me as profoundly as his hands.
“So, are you coming here or—”
“Yeah, my place is a mess,” Brady said,
like he was appraising the space around him and suddenly realized it was unfit for company. “I’ll come over at about six to start cooking. Sound good?”
“Sounds good,” I said, and again, grinning so much I was glad he couldn’t see me.
After we hung up, I exploded into a flurry of activity. I had a lot of tasks to do regarding the cabins all before I could even think about getting ready for this evening. Weekend renters would be showing up as early as the next morning. Excitement fueled me through mowing the lawns, collecting and moving firewood, buying and placing new lawn chairs, making sure each cabin had all the extra linens necessary, and that nothing was missing or broken.
When I got back home with wine, there was just enough time to bake a spiced fig and honey Bundt cake, which I decided to contribute to our meal as a dessert. I showered quickly and dressed myself in a knee length black dress with an empire waist that I accented with a fuchsia scarf. To make it a bit more casual, I added a denim jacket. I left my hair down to fall in my dark tight curls around my shoulders, and kept my makeup minimal.
I struggled for years with my body and finally, after I stopped worrying so much about how I should look, it became a lot easier for feel confident in how I actually looked. Sometimes, that confidence evaporated in the presence of others, but that was more about terminal shyness than anything else. I looked at my reflection and felt beautiful. There was a knock at the door and I hurriedly slipped on some silver flats before answering.
When I opened the door and smiled, I felt even more elated by Brady’s response. He started to say hello, but, when he looked me over and stopped, he said, “Wow, you look gorgeous.”
“Thanks. You clean up well, too.” And he did. He wore a white oxford shirt with the top two buttons undone and a brown belt with dark denim jeans in a slightly relaxed fit. This man could wear a sheet and look amazing.
Brady smiled and walked in, his eyes gleaming in that characteristic intensity of his. I felt myself blushing but held his gaze. Already I didn’t give a damn about dinner or talking or signs from the universe telling me it’s okay to feel this way.
The open floor plan made it obvious where the kitchen was and he immediately began to unload the box of groceries he brought onto a counter. “It smells really good in here. Did you make something, or is that a candle?”
“I made us some dessert.”
“Oh, did you?” Brady said, smirking.
“I did. So you have to save room for dessert.”
His smirk broadened into a smile as he said, “I’ve always got room for dessert.”
Could my cheeks blush any more than they already were?
Apparently he was making baked lemon garlic herb salmon with roasted potatoes and asparagus. At first he didn’t want me to help, but I insisted so while he prepped the salmon, I cut the veggies. I opened the wine and we talked easily while everything cooked, probably in no small part because of the wine, but also because as aroused as I felt around him, there was also a great deal of comfort.
However, Brady didn’t like to talk much about himself, that much was obvious. He did seem interested in getting to know me, just as he said on the phone, and asked me questions about my mom. When I felt I had prattled on too long about her and our relationship, making myself a bit misty-eyed, he leaned over and took my hand.
I looked up at him and he said, softly, “I’m honored to be someone you feel like you can talk to about her. I actually met her a few times, and she was a special woman. Very strong and compassionate.” There was so much kindness in his words and his eyes, in the way his thumb slowly stroked the back of my hand. Maybe that’s why I cried for the first time, like it was finally okay to cry.
Brady wrapped his arms around me and in his embrace I felt protected. His body was so warm and smelled so good that I thought I’d never feel as good being held by anyone as I do feeling held by him. If the cooking timer hadn’t interrupted us, I’m not sure how long we would have stood there, his large body enveloping mine. He leaned back and we smiled at each other for a moment before he walked over to the oven.
It was tempting to apologize for crying, but I knew it was okay. I got up and started to help him with the food, but he shooed me off.
“Sit down so I can impress you properly,” he said, smiling broadly.
I laughed and brought the wine to the dining room table and sat down. There was some noise from the kitchen and I could see his upper body moving to grab plates, utensils, and portion out the food. I liked watching him move. His muscles rippled under his shirt in such a way that made me want to undress him. I wanted to touch his skin so badly it made my body ache.
He brought the plates in and said, “Are you ogling me or the food?”
I couldn’t resist saying in full on flirtation mode, “Both? I’m really hungry.” I definitely had a slight buzz from the wine.
We smirked wickedly at each other and I thought for a moment we might skip dinner entirely. The look in Brady’s eyes said he wasn’t above knocking everything off the table and taking me right there. The thought of that made my heart pound and my chest heave. His eyes went to my cleavage and smoldered. Again, I saw the golden glint piercing through his grey irises. I bit my lip, trying to decide what to do next.
Without thinking, I started speaking slowly while trying to catch my breath. “I know that a few mornings ago, I said I couldn’t do… well, I couldn’t have sex with you…”
He stopped what he was doing and came over to me, leaning down to first kiss me on the temple, then on the other side. He kept kissing me as I talked deliriously.
“It was because I heard that you don’t really… uh, date women so much as you… have little flings and I don’t want to be a fling. I know this sounds weird, but I already really like you a lot. I feel drawn to you in a way I never have before and if you don’t feel the same way please just say so.”
His kisses stopped and he looked me in the eyes. I already felt naked, vulnerable. There was some kind of anxiousness in his eyes and I thought he was going to tell me he wasn’t interested in a relationship. I held my breath waiting for what that anxiety meant.
“I have to tell you something,” he said. Then added, as if to him self only, “Somehow.”
“What is it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, and calm, but it still sounded rough.
“It’s really hard for me to be in relationships, partially because of this secret… which I’ve never really wanted to try to tell anyone before.”
“What secret?” I asked, furrowing my brow, wanting an answer, now.
“Just…” Then he laughed, seemingly at a private joke.
When I looked at him wide-eyed, wondering how he could possibly find anything funny right now, he said, “I was about to say bear with me.”
What? I sighed, starting to feel defensive and impatient. I felt confused.
“Okay, okay.” He gestured for me to sit and then he brought his chair close and sat in front of me.
“Do you remember the bear that was here?” Brady asked.
“Of course. How could I forget you scaring it away for me?”
“Right. Well,” he looked uncomfortably at the ceiling, then seemed to decide resolutely to stop with all the delays, took my hands and said, “I scared him away because we are both bear shifters and he came to your property to…um…how do I say this? Sniff you out, basically. Thankfully, I’m larger and stronger than him, or maybe you’d be having dinner with him instead.” He seemed to say this last part to himself and, when his eyes went back to mine, he could tell that I didn’t understand anything he said. “Penelope, I’m a grizzly bear shifter.”
Which was true. I didn’t understand, and I thought he was insane.
“You’re going to get yourself killed thinking you’re some sort of, what did you call it? Bear shifter?” I could hear myself. I hated the sound of my voice at that moment. My voice sounded shrill. I stood up, unable to just sit there anymore. “You can’t just go out and fight b
ears. You’re not as strong as a bear!”
Brady stood up, and started walking toward the sliding glass door that opens onto the porch. I thought he was leaving, and I had no idea how to even begin disentangling my feelings. Especially when he began taking shirt, shoes, and pants off. Is this guy crazy?
“I’m going to go outside and…well, you can decide whether or not to let me back in. Really. It’s entirely up to you, and I won’t bother you if you never want to see me again. I know this is hard to comprehend.”
Embarrassment for him crept in, but also horror that he might really think he’s a bear shifter, and then anger that he might be just playing this elaborate prank when they could be enjoying a nice dinner or making out like teenagers. And pain…yes, I felt that as well. What could I say, though?
One in a Billion Bear ~ Brady: Book 1 (A BWWM BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Werebear New Adult Romance) Page 2
