by T. S. Joyce
“Mmm,” he rumbled, plucking her lips with his, tasting her. “I like your filthy mouth.”
“Good. Make me come, and I’ll suck your dick. I’ll make you feel better.”
“Trouble,” he accused through a wicked grin.
“Better believe it.”
He slid his long finger inside of her, thumbing her clit when he was buried up to his knuckle.
“Oh, my gosh,” she panted out, wrapping her arms around his neck so she could ride him better. How the man knew exactly where to touch her was beyond her comprehension. She barely knew her body that well.
With desperate fingers, she reached between them and unbuttoned his jeans. “Want to touch you,” she murmured as she lifted off him and pulled his briefs down, unsheathing his dick. His beautiful, swollen to redness, tipped-with-creamy-moisture dick.
She exhaled a shuddering sigh as she settled on top of it. She rocked, forcing Boone’s hand to rub himself. His thighs tensed under her and that soft, feral noise rattled his throat again.
“Changed my mind,” she whispered, grazing her teeth against his neck. “I don’t want to fuck your hand.”
She’d lost her mind completely. Usually, she was the controlled one, the one who kept a clear head in every situation, but right now, all she could think about was touching Boone’s thick shaft with her wet sex. She pushed his hand until his finger came out of her, then grinned like a goddess when he drew it in his mouth and sucked her taste off it.
“It’s your show now, Trouble.”
She just wanted to fool around a bit, tease them both a little. Settling onto him, she rolled her eyes back as her body pulsed at just touching his smooth skin there. Back and forth she moved, sliding over his shaft until he was slick with her wetness. He was a good bear at first, still for her. By the fourth stroke, however, he reached forward under the hem of her pushed-up dress. A tiny rip sounded, and then another, and her panties were in a little shredded pile on the floor.
“Clever bear,” she said against his mouth.
She drew his bottom lip against her teeth. When she did, he bucked against her, as if he couldn’t help himself. “You like me bitey? Of course, you do. You liked when I slapped your arm earlier in the bar, didn’t you?” She leaned forward and gently nibbled his ear.
His hands gripped her waist and he jerked against her again, thighs tense as his breath came in shaky pants.
“Again,” he said.
She pressed her teeth against his neck, and he groaned and rocked his hips harder.
Pressure was filling her, expanding in her until she was ready to explode with it. The slick, rhythmic sound of them rubbing against each other’s sexes filled the room in the most erotic noise she’d ever heard.
“Boone,” she said on a breath. “I’m going to come.”
“Fffuck,” he growled out, gripping her waist and slamming her against him.
Desperation filled her to be closer to him—to be part of him. She’d never wanted to be connected to a man so badly. “I’m on the pill,” she huffed out.
Boone was straining now and his dick was so swollen between her lips. His hips jerked like he’d lost control. She fucking loved this.
“You know what you’re asking?” he asked through clenched teeth. His neck muscles strained as he bucked against her again.
“I want to come with you inside of me,” she said against his ear.
The growling in his chest grew louder as he reached between their legs and pushed the head of his shaft upward. She took him, sliding down until she stretched around all of him.
“Bite me, bite me, bite me,” he chanted breathily.
She slid up and down him as a cry of ecstasy built in her throat. To silence it, she clamped her teeth on his neck.
“Harder,” he demanded, pushing in and out of her.
She sank her teeth into his skin as she came. Boone gripped her hair and shoved her even closer as he rammed into her again and froze.
His breath came in gasps as his body jerked with every stream of warmth he shot into her. Cora’s body pulsed around him, her orgasm crashing through her as she released his torn neck and rested her forehead against his shoulder. The pleasure was so intense between her legs she whispered his name over and over.
All the fear from before leached from her with every aftershock.
Here, in his arms, she was safe and coveted.
Here, no one could get to her.
Here, tangled up with Boone, and despite everything that had happened tonight, she was happy.
Chapter Nine
Cora stretched her arms above her head and stared in confusion at the unfamiliar ceiling fan above her. Exposed wooden beams contrasted against the cream color of the room. She lifted the sheets with a frown and stared down at the dress she’d worn last night, still clinging to her body, minus her panties. Those, Boone had unapologetically shoved into his jeans pocket before they went out to meet the rest of the Kellers for the Breck Crew meeting.
Mortification heated her cheeks as she remembered how awkward she’d felt trying to keep a straight face after what she and Boone had done in his room at the station, especially with him flashing those sexy smiles when everyone’s attention was diverted.
What should’ve been an intensely serious meeting about their next move to stay safe from the new IESA threat had ended up not quite as scary as she’d imagined.
This must be Boone’s room. She recognized it from that stupid video those jerks had posted. Plus, the pillow smelled good, like him when he was content.
She rolled over to search with her legs for cool pockets under the sheets, but froze at the long gashes in the comforter and mattress. The sheets were ripped, and one of the pillows was bleeding stuffing. What the hell?
She sat ramrod straight, clutching her chest as she dragged her horrified gaze over the long claw marks on the wall next to the bed.
A rhythmic thwack thwack echoed through the house, and Cora stood on shaky legs. Stepping gingerly over a broken end table and shattered alarm clock, she approached an opened window. Why did he need to sleep with an open window when it was so cold out?
Outside, Boone’s smooth, bare shoulder muscles moved with lithe grace as he slammed an ax down on a piece of firewood. He shoved the split pieces off into a pile and put another one on the chopping block in a smooth motion as if he’d repeated this action a million times before. The unwavering arc of the blade slamming down on this piece of wood said that perhaps he had.
He wore jeans that had gone threadbare in places and work boots, but nothing else to ward away the crisp morning air.
She looked around the destroyed room again and shook her head in disbelief. He must have had a dream that made him shift again, like in the video, and somehow, she’d slept right through it. Twisting, she stared at the long claw marks down the bed. They couldn’t have been more than three inches from where she’d been sleeping.
Too close.
Okay, Boone was obviously working through some demons if the sound of relentless wood chopping was anything to go by. Avoiding another peek at the shredded bed, she made her way carefully to the bathroom. She must’ve fallen asleep on the way over here, and Boone obviously had carried her inside and tucked her in for the night, so she hadn’t seen the outside, but she’d imagined he lived in a rustic cabin in the woods. This bathroom was all custom tiling and fancy framed mirrors and brushed nickel finishes, though. And it was also spotless, which didn’t fit the bachelor stereotype, which reminded her of how very little she still knew of Boone.
She’d checked out of the condo in the middle of the night at Boone’s request. He’d said he wanted her somewhere safe where he could protect her, and she understood. She wanted to protect him from the IESA, too, even though he’d already survived more than she would likely ever know about.
He’d helped her pack, and she hadn’t even had the energy to be embarrassed when he saw how destroyed her bathroom was. She wasn’t as tidy as Boone seemed to
be and worked better with her morning beauty routine if she could reach everything easily and not be digging products out of drawers.
On his shining marble countertop, he’d placed her bag of toiletries and lined up her straightening iron, curling iron, and blow dryer in a neat row. Maybe bear shifters needed organization. With this thought in mind, she put her toothbrush and toothpaste back after she was done with them and tucked away her hair styling tools under the sink. A-plus for Cora, but her reflection in the mirror was one rude heifer. “Ow, ow, ow,” she whispered as she pulled a butterfly bandage from the cuts on her cheek.
She tossed the shower a thoughtful glance as the measured chopping sounded on.
With a sigh, she slipped into a pair of flip flops and made her way through the living room with its matching high ceiling and exposed beams and out the front door.
“Oh,” she murmured, turning to look at the front of the house. It wasn’t a cabin at all, but a Victorian style home with evergreen-colored siding and cream trim. Fragrant landscaping extended around the front corners, and the small overhang over the front door was propped up with natural cedar posts. The house looked like it belonged in one of those fine furniture magazines.
She swung her gaze to Boone, who had to have known she was there but kept on chopping firewood, anyway. His tattoos connected from his wrist to his shoulder, and his hair was pulled away from his face with a backward hat. His muscles rippled with every swing, and his intense eyes were gold, or perhaps an odd shade of green, in the bright morning light. He did not strike her as the type of man who enjoyed home decoration, but clearly, he was.
Damn, it was sexy when a man could surprise her like that.
Cora made her way around the curving landscaping to sit on a bench near where he worked. It was cold, and she should’ve worn a jacket, so she tucked her legs under her to conserve her body heat.
“Do you want to take a shower with me?” she asked after a few minutes of watching him.
“Woman, I’m not going to be a gentle lay right now,” he growled out.
“I wouldn’t mind a rough fuck from you, Boone, but that’s not what I asked. I’m asking for intimacy.”
He jerked the ax to a halt mid-swing and settled it beside him, then leaned on it and canted his head as he searched her face. “What’s the difference?”
She snorted. Typical alpha male. “The difference is I want to touch you. I want you to hold me after everything that happened and convince my body that everything is going to be okay. Have you ever slept with a woman before?”
Boone rolled his neck and picked up another log to chop. “Cora, you aren’t my first.”
“I didn’t say fuck. I said slept with.”
Boone chucked the wood he was about to cut across the clearing with a feral sound in his throat. “No, I haven’t. And there’s a reason for that. I thought it would be different with you, but I still had the nightmares and I still shifted in my sleep. And this time, I almost hurt you before I had my mind. Next time, it could be worse. That can’t happen again. I’m sleeping on the couch from here on.”
Silence stretched on between them as he scanned his woods, avoiding her gaze. At last, when it was clear he was doing a bang-up job of engaging in a mental war she didn’t have access to, she cleared her throat. “I was a goth kid in high school, if you can believe it. Dyed black hair with bright purple streaks, fishnets peeking through the holes in my jeans, black lipstick, white foundation, the works.”
Boone sighed, the knots in his shoulders relaxing. He turned and sat on the bench beside her. “Why?”
“I was emotional about everything, and it had to do with how angry I was with the world. No, it wasn’t the world I was pissed at. It was my mom. My dad was never in the picture, and my mom liked to party. My Grandma Ruth raised me. And you know, I had a really awesome childhood because she made it as normal as possible, but there was this hole in me. There was this gnawing ache that told me over and over that I wasn’t enough to make my mom want to get her life back on track. And I swear, as soon as I would accept she was just not meant to be a mother, she would come back around for a week, clear-eyed, talking about how she’d changed and was trying to be better so she could take me home. Except I never knew what home she was talking about. The only place I’d ever known was a two-bedroom apartment in Denver I shared with my Grandma Ruth and two goldfish. But that didn’t matter because I’d still get my hopes up that my mom was getting her shit together for me. I went to a few community college classes, and one of them was an elective. I thought it would be an easy A to keep my Grandma Ruth off my back, but it changed my life.”
“What class was it?”
“Journalism. Everything seemed so clear after that semester. I let my hair go back to my natural blond and softened my make-up. I worked at this diner and saved up until I could afford—and you better not laugh because you’ve probably already noticed—but I got a boob job because I was told no one was going to hire me for television with a 32-A chest.”
“Ah,” he said nodding. “I wondered. I love your big tits, Cora, but you would’ve been just as beautiful with your 32-As. You know that, right?”
“I do now, but I had a lot of growing to do to get here.”
“Okay, so why are you telling me all this?”
“Because now it’s your turn. What are the nightmares about?”
He let off a growl and took his hat off, then replaced it, as if it was a nervous habit. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he stared out at the tree line. “They’re about losing everyone. IESA chasing us, gunfire, watching my family die one by one, even the cubs. And the end is always the same. You die in my arms.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. I can never save you. I can’t save anyone.”
“But…” She tried to wrap her head around what he was saying. “That video of your nightmare was taken before you met me.”
“Yeah, I must’ve seen you on the news or something. Come on. I’ll take a shower with you, and I probably won’t even turn into a bear.”
“Boone,” she called, following him into the house. “Why would you have nightmares about me dying if you didn’t even know me?”
“How the hell should I know? I’m not some dream expert. I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Cora. Please. It doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly.
Boone hit the hot tap in the shower and shed his jeans. Now, shyness crept over Cora in light of his admission. He’d thought about her before he’d met her, enough to dream about her. Something unsettling lingered in her mind—an idea that was just out of reach.
“Let me,” he murmured, unzipping her dress in back. His touch was soft as he pushed the fabric off her shoulders.
His warm hands gripped her tense neck and massaged it just right, not to hard, not too soft. “How are you feeling today?”
She groaned in ecstasy and rolled her head back against his chest. “Neck is stiff, but if you keep that up, I’ll be back to one hundred percent in no time.”
“What time do you have to be at work?”
“Seven tonight. No fun assignments today unless one of my contacts gives me a tip, just the nine o’clock news. I used to have a police scanner I would listen to for leads, which is how I found out about that veterinary clinic fire where you and your brothers came out to the public. I left it at the house I shared with Eddie, though. I need to go back and get all of my belongings at some point. I just haven’t been ready to face him yet.”
Boone massaged little circles down the muscles that bracketed her spine.
“I need to pick up some dry-cleaning before work so I have something to wear tonight, though. The station isn’t big enough for a wardrobe department.”
“Ah, I see,” he said, guiding her toward the steaming shower.
When they settled under the hot jets of water and leaned against the wall facing each other, Boone brushed her cheek with his knuckle and said, “My father was a b
it of a lying asshole, too, if it makes you feel any better.”
Cora grabbed his hand to keep his touch and murmured, “That doesn’t make me feel better. I don’t like you being hurt.”
“You’re protective as a momma bear, you know that?”
“Damn straight. You’re mine—” Cora gasped and wished she could swallow the words back down. She hadn’t meant to utter those words out loud. Now, Boone would push and run like he always did.
His eyes went wide and serious, and his chest heaved as water trickled down the ends of his hair that draped in front of his face. “Say that again.”
In a voice as meek as a mouse, she said, “You’re mine.”
“Come here,” he demanded low.
He hugged her tight and maneuvered her around until her back was under the warm jets of water. His stony erection pressed against her belly, but he didn’t act on it. He only pressed his lips against her wet hair and rocked them back and forth in a music-less slow dance.
“You aren’t going to push me away this time?”
“What’s the point?” he murmured in that sexy, gravelly voice. “You’re in danger either way, and I’m sick of torturing us.”
“What happened with your father?”
“Titus Keller was an upstanding citizen and a great father. He was a firefighter, and the reason I wanted to be one, too. He was perfect, until he wasn’t. IESA hit his kill switch while he was fighting a fire.”
“Kill switch?”
Boone eased her back and lifted his chin, exposing a thin pink scar on his neck. “We had trackers in us that IESA could detonate when we lost our usefulness. It’s where Dade got that chemical burn on his neck, and it’s why Cody’s hand looks melted. Cody got mine out first but wasn’t fast enough with Dade’s, and Krueger, our handler at the time, pushed the kill switch when Cody had Dade’s tracker halfway out. I still feel like shit that Cody took mine out first. Dade is my younger brother. It should’ve been me who got burned, not him.”
Horror filled her chest at his words. “Wait, why would Krueger want to kill you?”
