by Cecilia Lane
Nolan inhaled and sifted through her scent. Cinnamon, sharp on his tongue, thickened with the sweet smell of feminine desire. There was no stink of a lie.
She chose him.
Nolan growled and claimed her mouth. Gentle was out the window. Teasing was thrown with it. His mate wanted him and he’d wring pleasure from her body.
He let her hands fall but didn’t release her wrists. A quick sidestep backed her into his bedroom. He let go of her hands long enough to bunch the hem of her dress in his fingers and lift it over her head.
Fucking gorgeous. Dark lingerie hugged her curves and all he wanted to do was admire the sight before him. Her breasts were heavy and bound high in her bra. Her hips were wide and full. Made to hold and squeeze. And that ass. He wanted to squeeze that ass, watch it bounce as he fucked her bent over everything in his cabin. She’d been beautiful when lust first sparked between them and had only gotten more gorgeous as the years passed.
She didn’t wait. She reached for him, fingers slipping on the buttons of his shirt. He loosed his tie enough to yank it from around his neck, then crushed his lips to hers.
“Just rip it,” he growled into her mouth.
Buttons scattered across the wood floor beneath their feet. She pushed the ruined shirt off his shoulders and then traced fingers down the lines of his muscles.
He pushed her back onto the bed and followed her down. Her neck called to him and he pressed his nose to inhale the sweetly sharp cinnamon scent.
He caressed down her body, over her ribs and waist. His fingers dug into her hips. One roll of his hips, a second, and he added teeth and sucking kisses to the trail he left over her neck and shoulders.
Perfect, fucking perfection. He dragged his palm back up her curves and settled at the side of her breast. Her nipples were hard against the cotton and begged for his attention.
Nolan dipped his head and sucked one between his lips through her bra. Becca moaned and arched against him. Too much. He reached behind her and unsnapped the thing with remembered skill. He tore the thing away from her body and cupped her with both hands.
Becca’s soft cries were tied straight to his cock. Each one coming faster than the last thudded him harder against his pants. He needed to be inside her. He wouldn’t spill anywhere else.
Reaching under her, he cupped her ass and dragged her panties down her legs. Arousal swirled in his nose, a scent he thought had disappeared from his life completely. Without Becca, there’d been no reason get naked with anyone else around.
His cock throbbed and his balls ached. Fuck, he had to make this good for her. It’d been ten years for him. He couldn’t jump the gun and leave her unsatisfied.
He buried his tongue in her wet center and she buried her hands in his hair.
Desperation drove him on. He needed to hear her moans and feel her release. Needed to taste it. Too long denied, Nolan and his bear were one in their need to reconnect physically with the woman fated to be their mate.
He sucked her clit between his lips and flicked his tongue against her to relay his demands. His fingers pumped and curled inside her with an insistence that she give him a taste of her pleasure.
Her hands tightened in his hair, digging into his scalp. Her legs twitched around him as he pushed and sucked and tongued and loved. His shoulders kept her legs wide, and he continued his onslaught until her moans turned downright feral.
“Nolan,” she worked out of her throat on the third try.
Fucking music.
“Close, close,” she chanted between harsh breaths that hollowed her stomach.
Then she exploded under him. Her hips bucked and back arched. She twisted and growled. And he kept clamped his hands around her thighs and licked her through her release.
When he finally lifted his head, she watched him with hungry eyes. He couldn’t look away, even as he pushed off the bed. His hands went to his belt. He toed off his shoes. And when he finally stood naked before her, he palmed his cock.
“Want to fuck you, sweetheart,” he rumbled, voice entirely too thick.
Her eyes roamed down his chest and to his groin. He stroked himself and her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.
“You’re too far away for that,” she purred.
Still watching her for any sign of turning back, Nolan sank back onto his bed. Her eyes remained hot and hungry, watching him watching her. A flush colored her cheeks and her hair, that bouncing mass of kinks and waves, spread around her as she fell back against his pillows. Arousal filled the air and grabbed him by the balls.
She was his. His mate, in his bed. He’d fuck her hard enough that she’d never forget where she belonged.
Nolan kissed his way up her body and lined them up for more. He hitched one leg around his waist and parted her other. His lips grazed over her jaw as his head pressed between her folds. “It’s been too damn long,” he groaned, sliding an inch inside her.
The weight of him, the scent of him pressing around her from him and from the blankets she lay on, all of it was overwhelming Becca in a way she didn’t think possible. Heat spread through her, but not where their bodies touched. It originated from inside her, parts of her unlocking that she thought were lost long ago.
And Nolan eased another inch of his thick cock into her wet heat.
Fucking hell! How had she ever forgotten how good he felt moving inside her? Wide, thick. Just... huge. He filled her to the brim and then some, but he gave her only a second to adjust before he dragged his shaft from her.
A moan exploded from between her lips when he thrust hard and slid the last inch home.
He was big all around. Powerful. Wide shoulders and huge muscles made from his shifter nature and hard work in the firehouse. She didn’t know how she would keep him without getting into at least five fights a day with wandering-eyed females.
Keep him? That wasn’t what she intended. She wanted to feel again, have some fun.
Keep him, her fox urged.
One taste, one orgasm, and she was addicted all over again. There was no future without Nolan.
The muscles in his arms bunched as he reached under her, cupped her ass and tilted her hips. Becca’s eyes rolled back, and a strangled groan worked its way out of her throat. He knew how to touch her, what she needed. He listened and touched and teased until she could do nothing but writhe under him and silently beg for more.
Harder, harder still. He slid deep and dragged back out, touching on nerves that no one could quite reach.
Nolan growled against her throat. “That’s it, sweetheart. Love the way you sound.”
Becca dragged her nails down his back and grinned against his skin when his words were lost in another growl.
She licked and tasted his mouth and neck and shoulders. Anything she could reach. She just needed that extra bit of sensation and couldn’t get enough of him on her tongue.
Pressure built steadily inside her. It dragged its way up her legs and through her arms. Curled around her chest and hung heavy around her heart. This was what she needed. She’d gone to him for something to feel and he was opening her up to even more.
Nolan’s hips surged forward again and again. She planted her feet on the bed and met his strokes with a reverence she didn’t know existed. Exploring hands worshipped one another. Soft cries and deep grunts were their praise.
“Becca,” Nolan snarled. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
He slid a hand between their bodies, thumb pressing between her curls. There was no teasing lead up to the hard swipe of his thumb, just silent demand that her body give him what he ordered.
And she did. Becca buried her face in his neck, dug her hands into his hair, and exploded around him on the next hard thrust of his cock. A scream ripped out of her and her back bowed her into him. She only stayed down from his chest pressing her against the mattress.
Nolan’s roar filled her ears, and he finished with her. She dragged her eyes open and watched pleasure play across his features.
It was perfect.
Too damn perfect.
The kind of perfect she’d fuck up with the wrong word at the wrong moment.
Becca closed her eyes and shoved her fox to the back corner of her mind. Keep him? For a time. Until she drove him away.
Nolan pressed a light kiss to her forehead and eased his shaft out of her. Could he sense her backing away? She opened her eyes again and found his brilliant green gaze raking up and down her body.
He wasn’t done with her. She’d been a fool to think he ever would let her go again.
He leaned up on one arm and watched her face as he pressed two fingers deep inside her. Her back bowed and her eyes slid closed. She was almost too sensitive. But that only made her want him more. Heat reignited in her core.
“I want you to stay the night,” he breathed against her lips.
“Nolan,” she started to object. One fuck and he thought he could take over protecting her like a mate.
“For no other reason than I want to wake up between your thighs and fall asleep with the taste of you on my lips, sweetheart.” He swiped his tongue against the seam of her mouth and started a slow, languid kiss when she parted for him.
He matched the stroke of his fingers to that of his tongue, claiming her everywhere all at once and pushing her objections to the side.
He reached for her wrist and slid her hand down her body. “Show me how you like to be touched,” he ordered.
She replaced his fingers with her own. His eyes glowed that sexy, damning green as he watched the pace she set between her legs. Watched, and felt. His fingers wrapped around her wrist and moved with her.
Their breath mingled and sped up. The fire he rekindled in her core burst into a blaze that consumed her. Faster, she stroked, her walls tightening around her fingers. She added her other hand and rubbed her clit until she could take it no more. Her mouth dropped open, and another release chipped away at the walls around her heart.
“Perfection,” Nolan whispered in her ear.
Yeah. And that was why it scared her.
Chapter 17
She’d made a huge mistake.
Becca buried her head under a pillow. Another mistake. It just pushed Nolan’s scent all around her and made him utterly, enticingly inescapable.
Her fox ran circles in her head. One image after another came from the excited little beast. That alone was a surprise. After her escape from the hunters, the creature had mostly silent. Emotions and impressions, usually displeasure, were the height of their communication. Her inner animal didn’t send many fully-fledged images after that terrible night. Becca took it as another sign of her broken mind.
A flash of red and a sharp dig of imagined teeth brought Becca’s attention back to the images her fox wanted to show her.
More of the aftermath of last night where Nolan curled against her back and threw an arm and a leg over her while they slept. Scenes of a streak of red running alongside a giant bear with honey-colored fur. Both Becca and Nolan proudly wearing marks on their shoulders.
Mate.
She’d made a huge, sexy, incredibly satisfying mistake in staying the night.
And even worse, she didn’t know how to feel about it.
One part of her, the one that wanted to fight and rail against everything and everyone, shot her a giant middle finger for giving in and a sense of foreboding about the future. On the other side of the coin was that happy, twirling fox that just wanted to get closer to their mate.
Comfort could be found in his arms. She could heal with him at her side. Hell, her inner animal was already talking to her properly again, instead of getting huffy at the slightest breeze and trying to claw her way out of Becca’s body.
And still, she didn’t know what to do. He’d made her feel. By the Broken, had he made her feel all night long. But weakness after a loss did not make a healthy relationship.
If she opened up enough to go to bed with him, then she could open up about all her burdens.
Maybe.
Becca pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and stifled a groan.
It was the invasive smell of food that tugged her out of her thoughts and bed. She didn’t want to stare at the ceiling and deliberate her actions. She wanted whatever was being made on the other side of the door.
She eyed the dark pile of her dress, then a shirt of Nolan’s that hung from his closet door. She reached for his shirt and buttoned herself inside. In for a penny, in for a pound.
When she opened the door, she found her own sexy cooking show taking place. She leaned against the door frame and watched Nolan at work.
He was shirtless, which worked more in her favor than his. His muscles bunched with every twist and turn he made, like the sudden step back and shake of his hand when something in the pan popped at him. Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips and gave her a stunning view of his backside and the lines of muscle that marked his hips.
He had more pans going than she owned, and a pile of food set aside. The kitchen wasn’t just for show, that much was obvious. Somewhere over the years, Nolan had developed a cooking habit.
“You just going to stand there, or should I make you a plate?” he asked over his shoulder.
Trying to identify all the delicious scents that made her mouth water, Becca peeled herself away from the door. He’d hooked her, that was sure. Now he was reeling her in slowly with a feast.
“What are you making?” She didn’t feel right lingering at the edge of the kitchen. She didn’t stop until she stood behind him. That, too, didn’t feel like enough. The steady anxiety to move only stopped when she wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her cheek against his back.
Warmth immediately spread through her. It was as soothing as a long, hot bath at the end of a trying day. Becca found herself forgetting all her objections. She felt right waking up to find him making breakfast. She felt at home.
That stray thought brought a fresh round of sendings from her fox, and all of them were variations of dens. Dark corners, comfy beds, fortresses of pillows and blankets, and every last one of them tinged with the woodsy scent of Nolan.
Dangerous man.
“Eggs Benedict with asparagus. If that’s not to your liking, there’s also French toast. Bacon and sausage on the side, of course.”
She reached around him and shoved a finger at the sizzling potato patties. “Are you making hash browns?”
He smacked her hand away. “This is the real shit, not that straight from the freezer garbage you get at the diner most days.”
“One, stalker. Two, I’m not sure if Tommy would appreciate you calling his menu garbage.”
“It’s not garbage for what it is. There’s just a difference between food made at a quick pace for a large crowd and something made for two.”
“Nice save.” Becca disentangled herself from him and poured coffee into the waiting mugs.
“I know my audience and frequently see her at her brother-in-law’s. I know when to toe the line.”
She added enough creamer to turn the black to a soft tan. Perfect. She took her first sip and made a face. “Your coffee sucks, though. You need better beans.”
“If you’re so ungrateful, I’ll just eat all of this by myself.” His dimple flashed with his half-smile and shrug.
Her mouth snapped shut, and she took a seat at the breakfast bar while he finished his last preparations. It wasn’t long before he set a plate filled with food in front of her and settled next to her with one of his own.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye, but she stopped caring the moment she took the first, eggy bite. It was hands down the most delicious breakfast she’d eaten.
“When did you learn to cook?” She glanced down when her fork scraped against nothing. Damn, just down to the hash browns. Which, admittedly, were better than the ones she got from the diner.
“Uh, about when I moved in here. I had a lot of time on my hands,” he said. He dropped another piece of bacon on her plate. �
�I cook for the clan a lot now. In the firehouse, whenever we’re just hanging together. It’s kind of become my thing.”
His scent colored slightly with embarrassment. She didn’t know why. The food was damn good and he should own that shit.
Then an idea took hold. Maybe it wasn’t just for the clan or himself that started him cooking.
“You must have kept lots of stomachs fed,” she said carefully.
“Hardly.” He brushed his hair back and stood to carry his plate to the sink. His shoulders tightened and the acrid scent of unease replaced embarrassment.
Shit, she said something wrong. “I mean, it’s not a problem. I’m sure lots of ladies would like to get stuffed in more ways than one.”
Oh, that was too far, even for her. Becca scrunched up her nose.
“There was no one else,” he mumbled.
She blinked. “No one else?”
“Who could follow you?” Nolan turned and raised one shoulder in a shrug that said he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “And before you start to think I’m some maladjusted creep who got hung up on you, I tried. By the Broken, I tried. One kiss that went nowhere because she wasn’t you, and an attempt at a drunken handjob that again went nowhere because she wasn’t you. You’re my mate, Becks. No one else gets my dick hard.”
She tried to huff a laugh and brush aside the seriousness in his words. “There’s the romance I need.”
“You hate getting flowers. You only like chocolates because they’re food. You don’t need romance.” He snorted. “You need action.”
“That you’ll give to me?” She took the chance at distraction and ran with it. Or rather, took a single step back and pulled up the corner of his shirt.
Nolan’s eyes dropped to the inch of leg she bared. “Playing games, sweetheart? You’ll lose.”
“You gonna punish me?” She raised the hem another inch.
His hand shot out and slid around to the back of her neck and deep into her hair. Becca stilled. So much power resided in that embrace. He was a rough sort of gentleman in public, but there was no doubt who had control when they were alone. There was no question how she responded to it, either.
