Cabin Bear Heat Box Set: A Paranormal Fantasy Bear Shifter Romance (A Bear Shifter Romance Retelling of the Billionaire Redemption Series Book 2)

by Love-Wins, Bella

  She stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips softly. “There’s as much time as you and I want. I would like us to get to know each other better too.”

  “So you—”

  “Andrew, I’m kind of far away, but not too far. San Francisco is less than four hours from here. In good weather anyway.”

  “So you…you’d…” he cleared his throat. “Would you like to go out with me sometime, Abigail Wittfield?”

  “I would,” she answered cheerily. “I would love to.”

  “Great.”

  He leaned down and pressed his lips into hers, fiercely yearning for more of her—for all of her. He parted her lips and invaded her mouth with his tongue, taking her mouth in the way he wanted to claim and possess her body but couldn’t. There wasn’t much time before the others would be up. He took what he could, and etched the sensations into his memories as he went.

  “Abby,” he groaned into her mouth as he claimed her.

  He felt her tiny hands tugging at the towel around his waist. “I want you now, Andrew.”

  “Do you think your friends may be up soon?”

  “I don’t really care right now.” She wrapped her fingers over his cock. “I want as much of you as I can get before I have to leave.”

  She slid her hand up his shaft, slowly and deliberately. Andrew closed his eyes and let her. He had to return the favor. He pried her hand from his member, took off her robe, and picked her up to deliver her into his shower. He stood in the path of the cold water until it warmed up, and moved behind her to let the water flow over her.

  “Where were we?” He wrapped his arms around her body from behind.

  “Oh, I think I remember.” She turned to resume her massage along his shaft.

  “Ahhhh, yes,” he moaned. “Have I told you just how good you are at that?”

  “Perhaps.”

  He snaked his hand down her belly and found her slit. “I’ve been thinking. I could work on improving my moves too. Practice makes perfect, you know?”

  “Mmmm. Not true. It’s you. It’s us. We’re perfect.”

  He grinned, chin resting on her shoulder. His two fingers slid inside her slowly, pressing gently against her inner walls while his thumb strummed on her clit. He kept the motion subtle, but let her know he was there. It became harder by the minute to focus while she so adeptly stroked and played on his member.

  She rocked her hips and bent her knees, and he sensed she wanted to feel his fingers more deeply, or even better, his cock buried deep, bringing her the pleasure he hoped he alone would give to her from now on. Sliding his fingers out, he bent on one knee to meet her mound head on. Sure, she could no longer stroke his raging hard-on, but what was coming next would make it all the more worthwhile.

  He spread her legs and let his tongue find her clit, sliding his fingers inside her again, quickening their pace.

  “Andrew, oh God.”

  “Yes?”

  “I—oh God.”

  She may have forgotten what she wanted to say. Her legs seemed to weaken and buckle slightly, and he continued to plunder her sweet, wet pussy. His fingers were doing wicked things to her insides and he doubted she cared about much else right now.

  She shook her head. “Your fingers—”

  He pulled his head back and looked up at her. “You mean these fingers?”

  He withdrew them.

  She whimpered. “Don’t stop, Andrew. Please don’t stop.”

  Ducking his hand back down between her thighs, he slipped three fingers inside her this time, pumping the digits in and out of her slowly. He curved them and touched her G-spot. It made her legs tremble even more. He flicked again on her clit with his tongue, circling it as his palm nuzzled against the heat at her lower belly. He could hear her panting more quickly.

  He picked up the pace and moved his fingers deeper inside her. Her hips rocked with fervor. She grabbed his hair and pulled. He wisely ignored her and kept up his licking and pumping. She was close. Very close.

  He pulled his lips away from her clit again, looking up at her. “I’m not stopping until you come, Abby.”

  She moaned and looked like she would sob at his words. Finally, when his tongue returned to her sensitive bud, she let go. Her whole body shuddered, and she cried out his name as she came, still grinding on his fingers. He pulled out after a short while, and stood up. She was weak. He picked her up high with both arms, and wrapped her weakened legs loosely around his waist. Positioning himself and slowly lowered her onto his thick, rock hard cock. He moved her body up again, and lowered her again, dipping inside her with long, strong strokes.

  She clamped her hands on his shoulder when some energy returned, and he picked up the pace, thrusting in and out of her again and again. She tightened her legs around him, and ground her pussy down on his manhood. He felt her channel clamping down around him again. She was close. He sped up and plunged into to her wildly. Her legs began to shake again, and her nails dug down into his shoulders. With a final few thrusts, she welcomed him over the edge with her second climax. He was ready to let it go. He came inside her as her walls undulated and flexed with her orgasm. Slowly, holding up most of her weight, he let her legs down.

  “How are you feeling now? Good?”

  She nodded. “Better than good.”

  “Perfect.” He hesitated, looking for the right words as caught his breath. He had to ask. “I know this is a very, very late post hoc question, but are you…”

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I haven’t been with another man for a long time. You?”

  “Celibate for two years.”

  “And yes, I’m on the pill. I’m clean, and you have nothing to worry about. You are too.”

  “Yes. I’m clean. Not on the pill, though.”

  “Funny guy.”

  “I try. How did you know I was clean?”

  “Right. You haven’t been on the site. Remind me to show you the secret online community for shifters.”

  “I will, but what does that have to do with my question?”

  “I know you’re clean because all shifters are. At least this is what the online community has figured out. They don’t get the illnesses, physical disorders or health conditions that pure humans do. Also…most of you are sterile.”

  “I can’t…”

  “Most likely, not.”

  “Oh. What else is on there?”

  “I’ll show you after breakfast, if your internet access is back on.”

  “Okay. Thanks. “Come on,” He kissed her hair. “Let’s have breakfast.”

  They stepped out of the shower and dried off.

  “It doesn’t sound as if anyone’s up yet.”

  She smiled. “You can smell them, can’t you?”

  “Yes. They’re all still in bed.”

  “Good. How about breakfast in bed?”

  “Extra time in bed with you? That could be loads of fun. Sure, I’ll do the honors.”

  “No, no. I meant I’ll make you breakfast. My ankle’s fine now. You’ve all been catering to me this whole time. Let me do this. I really want to, especially if it’s our last day or two. You relax.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” He started walking over to the bed, but turned back. “Whatever you’re planning to make, can you make double?”

  “Ooooo, getting demanding, aren’t you?” she teased.

  “What? Oh, no, it’s not like that. I meant, I don’t think anyone was able to eat last night. It was too nerve-wracking. Plus I’m starved, and I eat a lot.”

  She pulled back her towel and snapped it softly on his butt when he got to the bed. “Get that sexy ass back in bed before I tie you to it.”

  He smiled and made it back to her in three quick strides, pulling her into his arms. “Playful are we? After we eat, I’ll let you, but only if you’ll let me tie you up first. But I’ll warn you. You may end up trading in your best night ever for it.”

  “Sounds like a dare. I’m game.” She winked.

&n
bsp; Chapter Seven

  ABBY put on her robe, pulled up her towel-dried hair into a ponytail, and went to the kitchen. She opened the large double-door fridge in search of eggs, meat and vegetables. Omelets would be a good option for everyone. She pulled out eggs, ham, celery and red peppers, and set them on the counter before looking around for onions and garlic. She vaguely remembered someone mentioning a pantry. She tried the door beside the fridge.

  The room was almost as large as the kitchen, with food packed neatly on open shelves along all walls, and on two free-standing shelves in the middle. She loved cooking. A room like this would be a chef’s dream. The food inside could probably feed an army for days. Walking along the first aisle—it did feel like a little grocery store in there—she made a mental note of where items were. She would make lunch and dinner for everyone today.

  She found the garlic and onions on a lower shelf in the far corner. They were placed inside labeled, hole-punched paper bags for longer storage. It was just like her mom used to do. That had been so long ago, she had almost forgotten about it. There were many little things Abby had tried to remember about her mom, but had forgotten. Like these hole-punched paper bags, they were probably just trapped in her memory, far behind the blurry cobwebs of time. She decided she would store her onions and garlic just like this when she got back to San Francisco.

  She was setting them down on the counter when she felt Andrew’s arms reach around her waist.

  “Hey,” she said, turning to him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t help it. If you’re all leaving soon, I want to get as much of you as I can.”

  “Fine, but I’m still making you breakfast. You can sit over there.”

  “Can I at least help you chop veggies?”

  “Hmmm,” she murmured. “Okay. You get the garlic and onions.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.” He got the cutting board and pulled the chopping knife to start dicing.

  By the time she put the coffee maker on, filled the kettle, cracked the eggs and whipped them in the large bowl, he had finished cutting up all the vegetables and had placed them into separate bowls. His eyes were red and watery.

  “Done already?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Are you doing okay over there?”

  “I’m used to this. I cook most of my own meals.”

  “Right. I forgot.”

  “Except when the housekeeper comes.”

  “Where’s a saucepan?”

  “Bottom drawer to your left.”

  She found the frying pan and placed it to heat up on the stove top. He leaned against a nearby opposite counter, looking at her while she cooked.

  “So what’s it like? Being out here alone?”

  “Quiet. Peaceful. A little lonely at times, but I enjoy the solitude most of the time. It’s—easier.”

  “Easier than what?”

  He hesitated before replying. “Crowds. City life. Concrete instead of the woods. Loud noises.”

  Andrew was standing off to one side behind her, but Abby knew without looking directly at him that she had hit on an uncomfortable topic. He fidgeted where he stood, and his one hand instantly began to move along the mark on his forearm. She wanted to take some of the pressure off him.

  “I think I know what you mean. When I first moved from our farm outside Sparks to San Francisco, I didn’t think I could ever get used to it. It’s a beautiful city, but there was always that noise. Even at night. It’s like the city hums or something.”

  “Yes.”

  She got ready to remove the first omelet. “Can you bring me a few plates?”

  “Sure.”

  “You should eat. Here, take the first one. I’ll make four all-veggie omelets and four more with ham. That should be enough for us and Ruth, Barb and Rob.”

  “Sounds great. Here are some plates. You can leave theirs on the back warmers.”

  “Good idea. The coffee is probably ready too.”

  “Awesome.” He pulled out two mugs and went over to the pot to pour them some.

  “So where did you learn to cook?” Her focus was on the omelets, but she listened intently.

  “My mom taught us. She wanted Joy and me—Joy is my sister back in New York City—she wanted us to be self-sufficient.”

  Andrew hadn’t mentioned anything about his mother before, and she wasn’t sure whether it was a touchy subject. “That’s great. She must love this kitchen and pantry.”

  “Yes, she sure did. She designed this entire house. My dad had it built exactly the she wanted it. The only remodeling I did was to bring it back to its original condition when I moved out here two years back. It had sat mostly empty for about five years.”

  “Interesting. So she doesn’t come to visit you here often?”

  “No. My parents are divorced. Mom lives in Paris now. I haven’t seen her in years. The last time I heard from her was a couple years back. Since then, nothing.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear. I’m sure she misses you all.”

  “Well if she does, she has a great way of showing it.”

  Another touchy subject. She didn’t notice any nervousness when he spoke that time, though.

  “What about your dad? Does he come often? I guess he must, if he flies in to see you.”

  His body relaxed completely. “Yeah. Dad stops in once or twice a month, sometimes more around year end. I help him with strategy for his companies. Although, he would say it’s our companies. He’s always hoped I would take it over after him, or play a more prominent role.”

  “Cool. What kind of business is it?”

  “We’re in retail. Department store chains and designer clothing, mostly. A few high end footwear lines. There’s some real estate too.”

  “So what’s your last name again? If I’ve been wearing your family’s designer clothing all this time, I’d want to know about it.”

  She laughed, maybe a little more loudly than she normally would, just so he’d know she wasn’t too inquisitive.

  “Carrington.”

  “You mean the Carrington’s? Like that—”

  “Yeah. That Carrington’s.”

  “Ohhhh.”

  “Yep.”

  “Want another omelet?”

  He nodded, and took the last bite on his plate while she brought him seconds. She moved the last ham omelet from the saucepan into the stack on the plate, and covered it up. All this cooking made her hungry. She took one of the vegetable omelets and went to sit beside Andrew at the table.

  “Gosh, my mom loved to window-shop in your stores when I was little. There wasn’t much we could afford to buy there, though. They ran a small farm, and even if my parents could afford it, they would probably find a million reasons to get it at Target. We farmers have penny-pinching in our blood, I think.

  “I remember when I worked my first summer job off the farm. I was a camp counselor. I must have been sixteen. I saved all my money that entire summer, and brought home an iPod and a pair of Gucci shoes. My mom had already passed away. My dad balked, and wanted me to return it—specifically the shoes. I told him I was wearing it to my prom the following year. He said, you’d better be wearing it more than once, for that price.”

  “Did you?”

  “No actually. Worse. I went through a growth spell that fall. I grew three inches in eight months. I was tiny before that. And so were my feet. In the end, I couldn’t even wear those shoes to my graduation dance. I ended it up giving them to Becky—Rob’s sister.”

  “Ouch. That must have hurt.”

  “It stung like hell. I was so jealous, watching her dance in my shoes. I ended up with cheap suede knockoffs from the local shoe store.”

  They ate quietly for a minute. It wasn’t uncomfortable at all. He seemed content, and she was famished.

  He looked up from his coffee. “So do you miss her?”

  “My mom? Gosh, yes. It was hard the first few years. I was fourteen. I wish I had her a little longer. Talking to m
y dad about things like graduation, and boys—well, let’s just say it was interesting. It got easier, eventually. How about you?”

  “Sure. She was a great mother. A very patient woman. I think she knew for a long time she would leave, in hindsight. She took time to painstakingly teach Joy and me things, and looking back, we took a lot of it for granted. It all made sense when she left after Joy started college.”

  “I can’t imagine. Is it tough, knowing she’s just a flight or two away and still not seeing her?”

  “Sometimes, but I’ve put her out of my mind, for the most part. It doesn’t sound logical, does it?”

  “Probably a little. I can’t judge. She probably had her reasons.”

  “It’s hard to be logical about things like this. On the one hand, if she was unhappy, she made an incredible sacrifice for a long, long time. She stuck with us until we were both adults, before she left to find her own happiness. She never complained, not once. How can I blame her for that? On the other hand, we’re her kids, her babies. She’s got to be missing us, probably more than we miss her. I figure she’ll come around when she’s ready, or reach out when she wants us to see her.”

  Andrew wasn’t eating anymore. From Abby’s spot beside him, he seemed to gaze into the distance, like he was daydreaming. The fork he was eating was raised above the plate. He was frozen in the thought. She sat beside him and waited.

  After a few moments, he continued. “She was a great mother to us. Firm, fair, compassionate, and she loved us to bits. She was at the door when we left for school every day, and waiting in the same spot when we came home. She was our rock. She grounded us. With all the wealth and power she had access to, she never put any value in them. Money never meant much to her, and she would not let Joy and me get too spoiled—although if you do get to meet Joy, you might think differently.

  “My mother did a great job raising us. She made home a stable, caring place. She was so proud when I chose the field of medicine. Maybe it would be more painful if we were younger. I don’t know. I do wish she was closer so we could see her, but if she’s happy, I’m happy for her too.”