Bachelor Bear

by Elsa Jade

  “That was too close. We can’t stay here.”

  “I was just heading home anyway,” she objected as he hauled her farther across the little park, away from the path that led back toward the houses and instead toward the scrubby athletic field that bordered the high desert plains beyond. “Why are we going this way?”

  “We need to get out of the open,” he said. “At least until the storm passes.”

  She cocked her gaze to the sky, searching for the clouds that had produced the strike. “It’s heat lightning.”

  “That’ll get you just as quick,” he said. “We can wait it out here.”

  Here turned out to be a small wooden shed tucked alongside the picket fence that marked off a baseball diamond of half-dried grass. From the same pocket as his flashlight, Ben withdrew a huge ring of keys—if that explained the bulge in his pants, she was going to be very disappointed—and let them into the shelter.

  “After you,” he said.

  “I bet everybody lets you in, don’t they?” She wasn’t sure why she was being prickly. It wasn’t his fault he was blond and dimpled and friendly while she was…not.

  “I’m an assistant coach in Little League,” he said. “So of course I have the keys.”

  “Of course you are,” she muttered to herself. “Of course you do.”

  Framed in the open doorway of the shed, Mesa Diablo was a dark rise against the darker horizon, silhouetted by the strangely silvered clouds that roiled overhead. Indistinct flickers of light within the clouds marked another spatter of lightning, and the small hairs on her body shifted restlessly. She lifted her cupped hand to inhale the delicate fragrance of the rose —more peppery than sweet. So many cultivated roses had no scent anymore, but this tiny diablo had quite the bite. Though it was unmistakably still a rose, beguiling and romantic.

  Maybe not such a great footnote to her anti-love potion.

  Carefully, she set the bloom on a built-in rack holding baseball bats, balls, gloves, and—inexplicably—a large feather boa before turning to watch Ben where he paced in the doorway.

  Jolting from the clouds over the mesa, a naked shaft of lightning traced a jagged line of brilliance across the midnight sky. The fleeting glare turned his hair to platinum for the blink of an eye.

  What color were his eyes in that flash of elemental light?

  Her knees wobbled a little—just the warped floorboards under her flimsy flipflops—and she settled herself on a tall stack of folded gym mats, releasing a puff of dust. “Sooooo, what are we going to do while we wait?”

  Chapter 6

  The softly drawled question went through Ben like another bolt of lightning, igniting him from the inside.

  Slower than the moon going through its phases, he pivoted in the doorway to face Gin. She was leaning back with her hands braced behind her on the gym mats. In the shadows, even to his sharp shifter eyes, she was a mystery. Except for her legs. Under the hiked-up hem of the black skirt, the spread curve of her thigh was a pale beacon in the random bursts of lightning. She had one knee crossed over the other, idly kicking her foot so that her flipflop was just one careless flip from flopping right off.

  As was he.

  He’d missed his first chance with her, too flabbergasted to follow her lead. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  His bear growled in agreement.

  Though he hadn’t made any noise aloud, the nonchalant sway of her foot stopped. She planted both soles flat on the ground, and for a moment, he thought she would make a run for the open door.

  Instead, she widened her knees.

  The bear had nothing to say to that.

  “I’m not looking for a mate, Ben.” Her tone held a warning, like the low roll of not-so-distant thunder. “Not even a lover. But here, right now…”

  “DTF,” he murmured. “I looked it up.”

  In the next flash of light, the white of her smile was a brighter slash, and the row of silver buttons down the front of her dress glinted like stars—stars not too far away to touch. “And?”

  “It’s not the mating season.” When her smirk faltered, he took one long step across the small shed that brought him square between her knees. “So no mates, no lovers. But yeah, I’m down to fuck.”

  Though the harsh word felt wrong on his lips, he’d gone through worse: the old king’s betrayal, the Kingdom Guard’s attack, the work to rebuild the clan’s standing. Maybe a summer night fling was a chance to cut loose from those bad old days, to forget the loneliness that had isolated the bear clan and finally take a step toward a new life.

  He was close enough now that even the shadows couldn’t hide her. Not that she was trying to hide. She stared up at him boldly, as if the lurking presence of his beast meant nothing to her.

  Maybe it didn’t. He knew witches didn’t hold onto their males.

  That shouldn’t bother him since, as he’d just told her, this wasn’t the mating season.

  Hunger flared through him, darker than midnight, hotter than the lightning, and he reached out to brush his knuckles over her cheek. Silky skin over rounded bone. He’d been spending all his days with rocks and dirt and plants, sweating with his cousins and the other males on the crew. He’d forgotten what it was like to touch a woman. At least his hands were clean, even if he wished his callouses weren’t so rough. She tilted her head to rub against him and splayed her knees wider, letting him closer.

  Not hiding at all. Judging by the lush, unfiltered perfume of her sex drifting up to him, she wasn’t wearing panties. The bear rumbled inside him, amused and intrigued. And painfully aroused. Just as well he wasn’t a cat that needed to stalk or a wolf that needed to track down its prey. Gin wasn’t the sort to play those games.

  She hooked one heel behind his knee.

  Yeah, no. No games.

  “When I found out about shapeshifters, I wondered what this would be like,” she said in a husky voice that was almost a growl.

  Only half teasing, he growled back, “Trophy hunting?”

  “Not interested in prizes,” she countered. “I’m just here for the fun.”

  He’d already given her the flower she wanted for her studies. And somehow that made it all right. She wasn’t trying to get anything out of him—except out of his pants—and he should give her the same courtesy.

  He threaded his fingers into her hair, teasing out the elastic that bound the crimson ponytail. The short strands tickled the back of his hand. Just that tiny sensation sent sparks shooting through his blood. “Not even a rose is this red.”

  “Neither is my hair naturally,” she countered. “So don’t be shocked when you get under my skirt.”

  “Oh, I’m already shocked,” he murmured. “Scandalized, even.” He tightened his fingers, drawing her head back.

  For an almost imperceptible moment, she resisted before she leaned into his grasp. And suddenly he suspected she wasn’t as bold as she wanted him to believe.

  Well, he’d never slept with a witch, so.

  Slower than the roll of storm clouds across the mesa, he bent toward her. He wasn’t some implacable hunter; he was a gardener, and he’d let her go in an instant if she said no.

  The bear rumbled its opinion about that, but he didn’t have to listen because she fastened both hands around his belt and lifted her chin. He had a glimpse into the depths of her root-beer-brown eyes—her gaze flitting tentatively over his face—before her stubby lashes fluttered down. The hint of nerves banked the lust running through his veins like winter ice melting into a dangerous flood.

  He paused with his mouth suspended above hers, swallowing the scent of her—a hint of sweat, the lingering fragrance of the rose, the more subtle markers of her breath and blood that would let him find her wherever she went.

  Yeah, he might not be a stalker or a tracker, but he was still a beast.

  When her eyes flashed opened and her lips parted—probably to ask what he was waiting for—he kissed her.

  The touch was like a lightn
ing strike. She inhaled, almost a gasp, at the same time he did, and for a moment there was no air between them. Just the shock of contact, his mouth on hers, after weeks of low-key wondering.

  Then the blowback hit.

  A flash of white-hot desire, pressure, and a rolling rumble through his bones that staggered even the bear. He buried both hands in her hair, holding on tight, and canted his knees to press into the mat where she was sitting. Releasing his belt, she twined her arms behind him, fisting her hands in his shirt.

  Who needed air anyway?

  With a tug on her hair, he tilted her head one way and slanted his mouth the other. The friction jolted a moan from her, and the needful sound sent another punch of desire sleeting through him, centering on his groin. He parted his lips, urging her to do the same, and she matched him.

  By the great bear, she was tasty. The hot inner curves of her mouth were a prelude of things—him!—to come, and the gust of her stuttering breaths fanned his craving, stiffening the already swollen flesh behind the fly of his jeans.

  Running one palm down her spine, he nudged her back on the mats. She yielded willingly, though both her heels now were at his butt, drawing him with her. He kneeled on the mats between her thighs, crouched over her, never breaking the kiss.

  Until she tugged at the hem of his shirt. The whisper of cooler air across his obliques brought him upright with a juicy smack of parting lips. She stripped the shirt over his head as he reared above her.

  Another flash of lightning showed her sprawled on her back, her dark eyes half lidded. She tucked his purloined shirt behind her head and licked at her lips as she dragged one slow fingertip down his midline. “Roses must be very heavy to demand so many muscles.”

  Inadvertently, he flexed, which only widened her smirk. “You wouldn’t believe how much dirt I move. But feel free to make any demands you like.”

  Her lashes dropped another quarter-arc. “Kiss me again.”

  He dropped to all fours over her, like he was about to shift, his weight thudding on the mats. But the kiss he planted delicately, a bare brush over her wicked smile. She breathed out a yearning sigh and arched up into him, not just her pouting mouth but all of her, the black skirt slithering up her thighs.

  “I’ll kiss you as often as you ask,” he murmured as he anchored one hand at the small of her back, arching her higher. “But that’s too easy. Gimme something hard.”

  “You got something hard.” She nudged her hips up to his, grinding on his still-restrained erection. “Gimme that.”

  “So impatient,” he chided. “You’re doing it wrong.”

  “What’s wrong with that? Why wait for what we want?”

  “To make it last longer.” He gave her another nudge with his hips, in case she was unclear what he meant by longer.

  But instead of giggling, she spread her hands across his pecs and stiff-armed him. After a heartbeat of resistance, he gave way with a grunt.

  She fixed him with a serious stare. “Ben, I told you this wasn’t going to last.”

  “Not forever and ever,” he hastened to assure her even as the bear grumbled. “I meant here, right now.”

  Still, she kept her braced hands against his chest, holding him at bay while her brown eyes searched him like a you-better-not-be-lying-to-me-boy county sheriff’s deputy at a late-night traffic stop outside of Gypsy’s Roadhouse.

  “You can use your anti-love potion on me if you think I’m lying,” he told her, never letting his gaze drop. He knew how to deal with petty tyrants with delusions of grandeur.

  “I am the anti-love potion,” she murmured. When he would’ve asked her what she meant by that, she folded her elbows, letting him tip toward her again. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  Her fingertips skimmed down his chest, ticking over his abs, to land on the buckle of his belt. He sucked in a breath to give her room to grope.

  “No babies,” she ordered.

  “No babies,” he agreed despite the twinge of wistfulness in his chest.

  “No diseases.”

  “Definitely no.”

  “No biting, not mating, no forever.”

  “Nope. Nuh-uh. Not ever.” He dredged up a grin. “No worries.”

  “You don’t worry me. I’m only here because I trust you.”

  Okay, that got him even deeper than the baby talk. “Since you could turn me into a frog if I step out of line,” he reminded her.

  That brought back her smirk. “And don’t you forget it.”

  He rather thought he never would.

  ***

  Gin realized she was holding her breath as she slowly eased the belt tongue loose from the buckle. Which was silly. There was no reason to be too excited. Ben might be a shapeshifter, but after a couple of late-night, wine-fueled discussions with her sister, she knew shifter males like Mac and Ben were still…well, male. And she’d unwrapped more than a few of these kinds of packages before. Even at its most awkward it was no worse than a grandma gift that you hoped wouldn’t be too ugly and that you could get some use out of because God knew returning it would be more of a pain in the butt than it was worth.

  Ben’s stomach muscles tensed against her knuckles, a deep quiver that echoed in her own core. Her heart skipped a beat at the evidence of his arousal—in case the thick swell behind his zipper wasn’t enough of a clue.

  Biting her lip in anticipation, she eased the metal teeth down, down, and… She wrinkled her nose. Tighty whities? Really? She should’ve guessed.

  He rocked from one foot to the other, struggling out of his boots and stripping his jeans. “Your turn.”

  “You’ve already seen me naked,” she reminded him.

  “Seen, not touched.”

  The way his voice dropped sent another little shiver through her. Yeah, she wanted his big paws on her.

  With fumbly fingers, she shrugged off her sweater and unfastened the row of silver buttons on the front of her cami dress. The sultry, close heat of the shed was like another touch on her bare skin. The buttons went down to her navel and when she inhaled, the edges parted around her breasts.

  Ben groaned. “Take it all off.”

  “Are you crazy? Anyone could walk in here and find us.” She reached for him. “Come here and kiss me.”

  With another groan that was more growl, he jumped her. His kiss was fierce, hungry, none of the test and tease of before. And his hands were ev-er-y-where. Ooh, she’d known those long, thick fingers would be up to very good no good. He dragged one palm up her arm and across her bare shoulder with a rough caress of callouses and lifted her chin to kiss her deep, his tongue plunging past her lips. His other hand parted the neckline of her dress and cupped her breast. Another harsh breath exploded from him, a hot waft of not-quite a curse across her skin.

  “You’re beautiful,” he rasped. “Like, from a storybook beautiful, something powerful and precious.”

  The note of wonder in his voice whispered through her. She steeled herself against it. She didn’t want his wonder, just his wanker… She gasped when his mouth trailed down the thundering pulse in her neck to circle the hollow of her throat. Digging her fingers into his blond locks, she forced him lower.

  With a soft rumble of laughter, he complied, kissing his way over the upper swell of her breast. In his wake, her nerves burned, hot and tight. The cool, wet drag of his tongue only made her hotter and tighter, and when he traced a collapsing circle around her nipple, she whimpered in need.

  Echoing her hungry sound, he drew the taut peak between his teeth just as his big palm pressed over her mound. The pressure alone sent a burst of pleasure radiating inward.

  “No panties, no bra,” he whispered against her skin. “So wicked.”

  “Impatient,” she reminded him.

  “You’ll have to wait until I’ve touched and tasted all of you.”

  She wanted to argue but his nip at her nipple while his fingers delved deeper between her legs made her gasp instead. Twisting her head restlessly on his sh
irt-pillow, she kneaded his broad shoulders and dragged her palms up and down his biceps. God, he was so strong, his muscles a thicker pad than the gym mats under her, his sweat-shined skin velvety smooth. This was a thousand times better than the jocks who’d rejected her in high school.

  He must’ve misread her prodding at his bod—or maybe he knew what she wanted better than she did—because he licked one more looping infinity symbol around her breasts before moving down.

  When he hiked her knees over those shoulders she’d been admiring, she knew she’d never think of gym again without blushing.

  “Mmm, not red, but root-beer brown,” he murmured. “Bears like rooting.”

  He lifted her hips to his mouth, and his tongue found the aching nub of her clit—or was it lightning that went through her? Carnal delight singed along her nerves, as if every pathway was rolling up to make room for the luscious sensations he inflicted on her with every lash of his relentless tongue.

  Now she understood what her sister meant by beast.

  Gin held on tight and let him go.

  She was trembling, on the verge of release, when he straightened over her. A glimmer of lightning—silent, as the last of the storm clouds vanished beyond the mesa—shone on his shoulders and hair in a silvery silhouette and glistened on his lips. At some point, he’d ditched his undies, and he stood bold and bare. His cock jutted toward her with even more impatience than she claimed, though he held himself unmoving as she stared at him hungrily.

  If she were the sort to be unnerved by gleaming black eyes and predatory stillness and eight-pack abs and killer dimples even if she couldn’t see them right now…

  Good thing she wasn’t.

  She hiked up her skirt and brought him to his knees on the mats.

  His hips slid between her thighs. Slicked by the hot wetness of his clever tongue, her body’s enthusiastic response, and the breathless night, they came together in one slow crash of sensation. As she sucked in a breath, the air heavy with the scent of musk and rose, she tilted upward to take him deep. And he kept coming.

  So much, too much, but she wanted—needed—all of him. She rocked into him, and his hiss of pleasure sizzled across her nerve endings, burning inward toward her core. Her muscles tightened, quivering with the strain of reaching for another peak, higher and wilder than Mesa Diablo.