True North (The Bears of Blackrock Book 4)

by Michaela Wright

  She was sure he was sound asleep, but even unconscious he seemed territorial.

  Sinead lay there for a long moment. She was battling between the desperate need to pee and the complete aversion to the cold. If she got up, he might wake. If he woke, he might not let her climb back into this cocoon and waste another hour or two of the day in that warmth.

  She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to feel warm.

  Her bladder finally won, and Sinead snuck down the hall to the bathroom. The porcelain bowl nearly froze her backside and she was grateful to find Theron still lying as he had been, his arm draped across her side of the tiny bed. She sat down on the edge and lifted his hand as gently as she could.

  Theron grabbed her and yanked her under the covers, pressing his face into her hair as he groaned. The action was so intimate and unexpected, but she melted into it, welcoming every sensation.

  He squeezed her against him, and they both stiffened as the hard shape of his erection pressed to her backside.

  “Shit! Shit, sorry,” he said, rolling onto his back to pull away from her. “Sorry. Fuck. I’m still half asleep, sorry.”

  Sinead lay there frozen, realizing that intimate moment had been the result of drowsy confusion and not desire. She was almost hurt by it.

  She turned to look at him and found him lying there with his hands over his face, embarrassed. She reached up to touch his hands.

  He barely peeked at her from between his fingers. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Sinead smiled, curling on her side to face him. He wasn’t holding her anymore, but the space around him was still wonderful.

  “I could smash my boobs against you if it would make you feel better,” she said, fighting not to laugh as she spoke.

  Theron let one of his hands fall from his face and stared at her with a grin. “Don’t tease.”

  Her face flushed, but she shimmied down under the covers further. “I don’t think I’ve slept that well – ever, maybe.”

  “Yeah?” He said, and his tone was like an excited boy hearing the ice cream truck.

  She laughed and nodded, watching his face as he finally let his hands fall away. He reached down under the covers and groaned. He was repositioning himself. The urge to help him struck with such ferocity, she almost slipped her hand down with his.

  Good grief, Shin. Get your shit together. You don’t have to sleep with every guy that – err – sleeps with you?

  Theron finally rolled onto his side to face her, careful to leave a space between them. “I was almost surprised you let me stay last night.”

  Sinead’s mouth fell open. “You literally climbed in my bed!”

  “You showed me in!”

  They stared at each other, feigning frustrating as both cracked a smile.

  “Well, still. You could’ve kicked me out. I was certain you would.”

  She watched his expression for a long minute. “I tried!”

  “Sure you did.”

  “I did!”

  She thought back to the night before, remembering Theron’s ultimatum – sleep beside him or go home to Pearl Holden’s house and sleep on the couch.

  He had a point. She could have just gone to the house.

  “I’m not complaining, mind you.”

  He shrugged, brushing a hanging strand of his hair away from his face. “Wasn’t sure if you were all that happy with having me around. I imagine I’ve been more trouble than I’m worth.”

  Sinead thought back to the night Theron and Darrell tried their escape. She’d been frantic at the thought of Theron leaving, of him being out in the cold, alone. Yet above all of that, the thought of him leaving her behind – of never seeing him again. It had hurt like a blade across her skin.

  Yet none of that compared to the instant Theron’s whole body crumpled when Baird Davenport shot him.

  “I thought you were dead,” she said.

  “What?”

  “The other night. When Baird shot you. I thought you were dying.”

  She stopped. Her throat was growing tight. She hadn’t admitted these thoughts aloud to anyone. She’d barely allowed herself to admit them to herself. Feeling so strongly for someone she hardly knew was ludicrous and she knew it. Yet nothing could have soothed her at the moment Theron Talbot fell to the ground, a gunshot wound bleeding through his shirt.

  Theron had somehow managed to bring hope to the Extension – not of escape or release, but of happiness. Some manner of happiness in a sea of misery. He’d offered her that only to then rip it away. And she’d never even told him how she felt.

  “Ah. And my dying would piss you off?” He asked, offering a sarcastic grin.

  She stared at the fabric of his shirt, unable to meet his gaze as she fought the sudden flood of emotion. The memory of that moment was enough to bring her to sobs all over again. She didn’t want him to see.

  “Sinead?” He said as her eyes welled up and spilled over.

  Sinead opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. They didn’t have to, because an instant later, Theron’s warmth was all around her as he slipped his fingers into her hair and pulled her face to his. He kissed her then, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him, no longer concerned about propriety. He pulled her onto him, forcing her to straddle him beneath the blankets as he clutched her hair in his hands and kissed her over and over. She couldn’t breathe, even if he’d given her a moment to try. He was enveloping her there – his warmth, his affection – it flooded the space like bath water.

  Sinead let her full weight rest on him, feeling his body stir beneath her. She’d never wanted a man like this in her life, and for the first time, she wasn’t afraid to admit it. Theron’s hands moved down the length of her back and grabbed hold of her ass, pressing her down onto him. She could feel him hard beneath her, and she whimpered softly. The whimper seemed to only spur him on.

  “I want you so bad, Sinead. I’ve wanted you since the second I laid eyes on you,” he said, whispering in her ear as his hand slipped low enough to graze between her legs. His arms moved with purpose, shifting her over him in a rhythm that was building friction between her legs. If he didn’t take her soon, she was sure she’d orgasm fully dressed.

  “Then fucking have me, damn it!” She said, forcing the words out with what little breath she possessed. He stilled in response to the words, meeting her gaze with a look of near shock. The shock disintegrated into a wicked grin, and he grabbed her around the waist, flipping her over onto her back as he rose to his feet beside the bed.

  There were no words to speak as she lay there watching Theron undress. He pulled the tank over his head, baring his tan chest to her. He was the color of tea with milk and honey, his chest hairless. He made no sound as he unbuttoned his jeans and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers. Sinead watched him, breathless, waiting to see the rest of him.

  Yet, Theron stopped. “Well?”

  He jutted his forehead in her direction, offering up a teasing smile. Sinead glanced down at her own clothes and her face flushed. Theron’s jeans were on the floor a moment later and his knee dug into the mattress beside her. He’d left on his boxers. She fought not to whine in disappointment.

  She touched a nervous hand to the hem of her t-shirt, but it was Theron who grabbed the garment and pulled it up over her belly. The cold was sharp in the room around them, but Sinead almost couldn’t feel it. Her skin was flushed with the excitement of what was happening. Theron grabbed the waistband of her jeans and began to unbutton them. Suddenly, what was happening became painfully real.

  She was going to let this man touch her. Not just touch her, but she was going to touch him. In every way that he would allow, she wanted to touch him. Sinead had never felt such a need to be close to someone. She almost cringed at the thought of how limited their knowledge of each other was. She’d known him less than two weeks, yet here she was in the quiet, frigid space of her room – of her prison cell – and she was aching to be ravished by hi
m.

  He tossed her jeans aside and dropped down over her, both of them still in their underwear. She could feel the pressure of him over her, feel his weight between her legs as his lips met hers again. There was a new heat to him now, somehow even warmer than he’d been the night before, and his bare skin pulsed with it.

  Theron moved over her, letting his weight rise and fall in the same rhythm as before. Her sex was beginning to ache in anticipation. She grabbed hold of his backside and pulled him against her, moaning softly into his mouth as he kissed her.

  Theron lifted himself up onto his elbows and looked down at her. “Tell me what you want.”

  Sinead stared at him, startled. What did she want? Everything! But how could she tell this man she hardly knew? Whatever deeply hidden fantasies she harbored, she wanted to explore them with him – someday. Right now, she just wanted to feel him against her – and inside her. Even her body was growing impatient.

  “Take these off!” She said, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

  He chuckled, glancing down at his plaid shorts. “If those come off, so do yours.”

  Sinead’s face flushed, but she was ready. The longer they waited, the more intense the ache between her legs became. She didn’t want to wait anymore. She wanted him now.

  Sinead reached down before Theron could pull his boxers off, reached beneath the waistband of his shorts and grabbed him.

  He gasped as her fingers moved over the smooth skin of him. He was long and straight, and hard in wait of her, the shape of him ridged like carved marble. She grasped him in her hand and stroked, watching his eyes close in pleasure. She’d never taken the lead like that with a man before. She’d never wanted to.

  “My god, I want to devour you,” he said, barely whispering.

  The words stilled her hand, and she grabbed the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down his backside and out of the way. Theron felt her sudden fervor and matched it, instantly, grabbing her underwear and tearing them down the length of her legs. She was bared there to him, her frame frailer than she’d ever seen it before, but unlike any other time in her life, she wasn’t afraid to be seen. She opened her legs to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him down onto her as she wriggled beneath him. He propped himself over her, reaching between her legs, then a moment later, pressed himself against her. Sinead held her breath, feeling the smooth head of him, the pressure of his purpose, then in an instant, the hard shape of him filling her. She cried out in response. It was such a foreign sensation to her now, yet her body took all of him as she braced. He loomed over her, watching her expression as his hips moved. He retreated, then thrust into her again, still slow, still cautious. Sinead lifted her legs high, wrapping them around him as she pulled at his hips, urging him onward.

  The bitter cold pricked at every inch of her bare skin, but even as goosebumps appeared, she didn’t feel it. Theron ran a hand over her stomach as he moved inside her, still with aching precision. Sinead watched him, growing frustrated as he continued to move in her. He was being so tender, his eyes always seeking her face, searching for a sign of what? Pain? Pleasure?

  She didn’t want tender. She’d been locked away from the world, only reading novels by Jane Austen. She wanted ravenous. She wanted wild, damn it.

  “Fuck me, Theron,” she whispered, lifting herself up to him.

  His eyes went wide, and his movements slowed a moment. Then his expression changed. “Are you sure?”

  Sinead nodded, dragging her nails over his shoulders as she tried to urge him closer.

  Theron dropped down over her, letting his weight press her into the mattress. He thrust into her slow and deep, drawing a whimper as the head of him pressed as far as she could take, then a little further. He kissed her then, his tongue piercing into her mouth as he rose over her. Then, Theron bit her lip and growled softly before hoisting himself up onto his knees, grabbing her legs, and holding them up before him. An instant later, he was driving into her with such force, her cries bled together until they were a constant, desperate wail of need. He thrust deep each time, watching her gasp and cry with a wicked smile as sweat began to glisten across his brow.

  “Is that how you want me?” He asked.

  Sinead couldn’t speak, but she nodded, still holding her breath as Theron’s thrusts reminded her just why Jane Austen’s novels hadn’t managed to keep her warm at night.

  Theron leaned over her now, pushing her legs higher as he thrust, making her take him deeper. She watched him, his face barely lit by the light creeping in from the main room. Even in the dark, those eyes could burn into her, and she met their gaze with unwavering confidence. She wanted to be seen. She wanted Theron’s eyes on her.

  Theron pushed her legs higher and smacked her ass. The sudden pain drew a cry of surprise, but the cry soon disintegrated into laughter. She glared at him, daring him to do it again.

  “You have the sexiest laugh,” he said, slowing his thrusts for a moment. He writhed against her like some serpent, letting her feel the full length of him move inside her. She loved the way he felt.

  “You’re cold.”

  The words startled her, and Sinead glanced down at her breasts. Her nipples were hard beneath the fabric of her bra, and her skin was peppered with goosebumps again. Before she could assure him, Theron yanked her toward him, wrapping her legs around his torso as he dropped onto her. His full weight was on her chest now – his weight and his warmth, and she nearly moaned in the wake of it. He felt like a humid summer day, like the kind of sunshine that burns after too long. The sensation was spellbinding. Sinead closed her eyes, feeling Theron move inside her as the sweat of his skin mingled with her own. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her as he pounded into her, his breath growing labored and hoarse in her ear. She grabbed hold of his ass and dug her nails in, forgetting everything around her. She wasn’t trapped in the cold prison of the Extension anymore. She was making love to Theron on some sandy beach, her skin sun-kissed and smelling of coconut and sand and salt air. She was free, and she’d never feel cold again.

  Sinead gasped as her body tensed beneath Theron. He groaned, softly. He’d felt it. Theron pulled himself up onto his elbows and watched her, his brow furrowed with focus. Sinead watched Theron’s expression, so determined and so gentle as he moved over her – his every thought on pleasing her. Sinead held his gaze without a shred of shame and felt her body shudder beneath him. Her legs shook at his hips, her breath caught deep in her chest as her sex pulsed with heat. Theron kept his rhythm watching her, his lip almost curling in a snarl.

  Sinead’s head fell back and she cried out, her breath forming wisps of white clouds in the cold room.

  Theron maintained his rhythm until she slumped back onto the mattress, spent and limp beneath him. Then he doubled his speed, pulling himself up onto his hands as he watched the place where his body joined with hers. He thrust into her, the bed jerking and creaking beneath him as every muscle in his body tensed, then he cried out, letting another few thrusts carry him through.

  He slowed with the last two, taking his time before he finally slumped down onto her, letting his weight press her into the bed again.

  They lay there for a long moment, both of them catching their breath. Sinead ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the moisture of his sweat on his hot skin. She’d never felt so warm as she did there beneath him.

  When her breathing finally settled, she reached up and touched a strand of his black hair, running the silky texture of it over her lips. He hummed softly and the reverberation of it moved through every inch of her. He tensed as though to move, but she tightened her hold on him. She wasn’t ready for him to move. She wanted him to stay there – over her, inside her – for as long as she could.

  She wasn’t ready to wake from this dream.

  Theron groaned into her hair. “Not too bad for a first go round, yeah?”

  Sinead laughed. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what else you have up your sleeve
.”

  Theron shifted over her, meeting her gaze. The mischievous expression foretold of hours of adventurous lovemaking in her future and for an instant, Sinead didn’t loathe the Extension. The grief and misery of the place melted away in the wake of what she’d found there.

  This man she could weather the storm with. This man was worth it.

  “Dear god, I don’t know if I can walk,” Theron said, slumping down onto the mattress beside her. He quickly tugged the blankets up from the foot of the bed and cocooned her in them with him, letting every inch of him touch every inch of her. Sinead wriggled back into him, groaning and humming her pleasure. The bed shook with his laughter as he chuckled.

  The knock shattered the warmth of the moment, and Theron sat upright turning toward the bedroom door.

  He glanced down at her with a look of confusion. “Shit, is there school today?”

  Sinead sat up with him, her brow furrowed. “No.”

  She pressed the blanket to her chest and waited. She half thought it a trick of the wind. There wasn’t a soul on the Extension that had ever knocked at her door. Not even Theron.

  Theron seemed to sense her discomfort and hopped out of the bed with purpose. He snatched his boxers up from the floor, and an instant later was pulling his flannel over his shoulders. Sinead was only halfway into her clothes when Theron marched out into the main room of the meeting house, his footsteps creaking across the linoleum.

  “Wait, Theron,” Sinead called, struggling to pull her shirt over her head as the knock returned.

  Panic set in. What if it was Baird? What if they’d seen her marker and Theron’s together? It wouldn’t be the first time they showed up to punish the Holdens for gathering, but would they punish her and Theron for simply spending the night together? Could they be that cruel?

  “Theron! Wait,” she said, jumping from the bed and rushing out into the meeting house.

  She stopped dead in the middle of her classroom and stared at the unfamiliar man in the doorway. He was bundled in a thick winter coat, his face only visible after pulling the hood down from his head. Sinead stared at him with only an inkling of knowledge. He was bundled against the cold – he wasn’t a shifter.