Bearly Christmas

by Becca Fanning

  “I was ashamed,” she whispered.

  He sighed, pulling her into his arms. She melted into him, snaking her arms around his waist. For someone whose body was mostly hard, his hug was surprisingly soft. He cradled her gently, like she was precious. She felt she could get used to this.

  But she couldn’t stay here in his arms. Not until she’d said what she needed to.

  She stepped back, but he resisted, keeping hold of her hands. He laced their fingers together, looking down at her with regret. “You ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She shook her head. “You killed a man because of me! And you almost died doing it. Finn, how can you not hate me after that?”

  His face turned dark, and he dropped her hands. She stepped back, nodding. Yes, here it was. He’d tell her he never wanted to see her again. And that would be the end of the best thing that had ever happened in her sad life.

  But his next words surprised her. “Let’s get something straight, Irina. I did not kill that man for you. I killed him for my mama, who was beaten by my piece-of-shit daddy until the day she died. And I did it for me and Colt, who took the beatings after that, until we were old enough to leave. And I did it for every person who gets hurt for no other reason than some coward needs to feel like a big man.” He heaved a breath, running his hand through his pale, spiky hair. “I killed that man because it was the right thing to do. Maybe it’s wrong, acting as judge, jury, and executioner. Maybe what I did makes me a bad person. But I stand by everything I ever did in my life.” He pulled her back into him, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. “And if it means keeping you safe, I’d do it all over again.”

  She kissed him back, holding tight. God, she thought she’d never get a chance to do this again, to kiss him, to hold him. To love him. And now that she knew he didn’t blame her for what happened, she thought she just might not let him go ever again.

  The kiss deepened, until all she could think about was how much she wanted him, all of him. He seemed to be on the same wavelength, because he backed her up until her ass hit the kitchen table. He put his hands under her, lifting her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her hand scrabbling at the hem of his shirt as they continued to kiss each other.

  Clothes came off, piece by piece, until they were both naked. He stood in front of her, his hands running over her pale skin. The calluses on his fingers felt glorious against her as he traced a line from her collarbone all the way to her core.

  He looked up at her, his golden eyes simmering with desire. “You’re so beautiful, Irinka.”

  She touched him, too, letting her hands wander everywhere, over the taut planes of his chest and abdomen, her fingers dipping into the grooves of his muscles. He was so gorgeous he nearly took her breath away.

  Her touch lingered over the now-healed wound on his shoulder, gently probing the silver-white scar. His mouth tightened. “It’s ugly,” he grunted.

  She shook her head, trailing a finger up to his mouth. She rubbed it back and forth across his lips, and he hitched a breath. “You’re perfect, Finn.”

  More kisses, more touches, until she thought she was going to burst. She whimpered, shivering as he ran a hand over her pussy, teasing her. He pulled a condom from his discarded jeans, rolling it on quickly.

  And then, oh, he was inside of her, and she finally felt like the world was right. Such a silly thing, to be so wrapped up in him, in this. But such a necessary thing, too. Like breathing, or eating, or laughing. She needed him just as much, if not more.

  They moved together, locked at the waist. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down for sweet, soft kisses. He held her tightly as he pumped his hips, pushing deeper inside of her. He looked down at her with wonder, like she was some treasure he’d unearthed, precious and beautiful.

  The cant of their hips, the rubbing of his pubic bone against hers, pushed her higher and higher, until she felt like she’d fallen headlong over the edge. And he was right there with her, shaking with pleasure.

  He pulled her closer, leaving no space between them. He kissed the top of her head, her neck, her face. “So good,” he breathed in her ear. She hummed in agreement.

  He pulled back, slipping out of her, to dispose of the condom. Then he lifted her again, carrying her into the living room and tumbling with her onto the couch. They laughed as they righted themselves, grinning at each other like a couple of punch-drunk fools.

  His expression turned suddenly serious as he pushed an errant curl behind her ear. “Irinka, I lied earlier.”

  She tensed. “Oh?” she breathed.

  He nodded heavily. “There’s one thing I’ve done in my life that I can’t stand by.”

  Her heart raced with dread. “And what’s that?” she asked, her tone deliberately light.

  He kissed her softly, his expression contrite. “I didn’t see you at first. When I first met you, I thought you were nothing special.”

  “Oh?” she repeated.

  He nodded. “I was wrong though.” He smiled softly. “You’re the most special person I’ve ever met.” He scrunched up his nose. “Specialest?”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “Most special.”

  He laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. “That you are.”

  She hummed again, every nerve in her body singing with pleasure as she melted into his warm, firm body. She pressed her face to his chest, rubbing herself against him shamelessly. “Finn?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re the specialest person I’ve ever met, too.”

  He laughed, the sound rumbling against her cheek. “A grammatical error? For shame, Irinka. I’m taking away your librarian certificate, or whatever it is you have.”

  “It’s a Master’s degree, thank you very much.”

  He groaned. “Great. Now I’m stuck with two eggheads.”

  Stuck with him. She liked the sound of that. She smiled up at him. “That you are.”

  The End

  Leeward Bear

  FisherBears III

  by

  Becca Fanning

  CHAPTER ONE

  A bear trundled into Joanna Killfeather’s path, and she stopped short, steadying herself against a tree.

  Joanna was an experienced hiker. She’d grown up on this mountain, swimming in Blue Lake, rock climbing, picking wild currants and berries in summer. She knew every trail, every stream, every hunter’s cabin up here. She’d come across more wildlife than she could ever begin to count. This wasn’t the first bear she’d seen in these parts. She knew it was likely more afraid of her than she was of it, but she still needed to be cautious.

  The bear stopped a few feet away, rooting around in a bush, probably looking for insects or cloudberries. It was a large black bear, close to six feet in length, and it came up to the top of her ribcage. Probably a male, if she had to guess. She took a cautious step forward to get a better look, and a dry twig snapped under her boot.

  The bear froze, its head swivelling to her, watching her with wary eyes. Eyes that were the color of honey, golden and warm. Not like the typical dark eyes of a common black bear.

  She let out a surprised huff. Not a bear, then. A shifter.

  The bear-man rose onto its hind legs, trying to intimidate her. She couldn’t help it - she chuckled. He growled loudly, just short of a full roar. She grinned.

  “You’re not going to scare me away. You might as well just change back so we can talk, like two normal people.”

  He fell back onto his front paws with a dull thud. He made a noise like a snort, more human than bear, and lumbered off into the trees. She stood, leaning against the tree, and waited.

  A few minutes later she saw a tall man approaching slowly, hands up, like he was trying not to spook her. Silly, really, considering she’d met him in his bear form, which could have swatted her down as easily as if she were a fly.

  She looked up at his face as he came closer. Dark horn-rimmed glasses framed those honey-gold eyes, which were n
ow watching her with a combination of curiosity and caution. She gave him a quick once-over, noting the contrast between his neatly-trimmed hair and beard and work-worn clothes. The hands he held up had rough, callused palms and fingers. He must have some sort of blue collar job. Probably a fisherman, judging by the stains on his fitted tee shirt.

  He stopped a few feet from her, leaning against another tree, mirroring her pose. Neither of them spoke for several moments.

  “So,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest, which flexed his thickly-muscled arms. Yes, he was definitely a man who worked for a living. And his body clearly reaped the benefits of it.

  “So,” she echoed.

  He took a deep breath. “You know what I am?”

  She nodded.

  “How?” His voice was a rich, deep bass, and she leaned forward a bit, as though her body were unconsciously reaching for him. Joanna had always been a sucker for a deep voice.

  “You’re not the first shifter I’ve come across,” she replied. Her people had known of shifters for thousands of years. Stories of them had been passed down from mother to child for as long as the Tlingit people had lived on these islands. “Your eyes gave you away. Bears might love honey, but their eyes aren’t the color of it.”

  He exhaled noisily, looking off into the trees with a slight frown on his face.

  “I’m not going to tell anyone,” she assured him. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully. “You’re not going to tell me that I shouldn’t have to hide who I am, or that it’s illegal to discriminate against shifters now, or that I deserve to be treated like everyone else?”

  She flashed him a sardonic smile. “You don’t need me to tell you those things,” she said. “You already know that to some people, they’re not true.”

  He frowned. “Their opinions don’t change facts.”

  “Change?” She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But our opinions will always influence the way we see things.” Her tone was more bitter than she might have liked, thinking of her mother.

  His eyes widened, and he took a step closer, and another, until he was standing right in front of her. She could smell him now, the sharp, dry scent of cedar combined with human musk, and underneath it all, the faint scent of salty sea air. She inhaled deeply, revelling in it.

  “You a student of philosophy?” he asked, his voice pitching somehow even lower. She shivered in the warm summer air.

  She smiled again. “No, just a student of my grandfather’s old stories.” She touched the carved wooden pendant at her throat almost unconsciously. “His forefathers were shamans.” She chewed the inside of her lip. She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. He was a stranger, and not Tlingit. Her mother would have a fit if she thought Joanna was sharing sacred tribal knowledge with the bear-man. Even if she gave next to nothing away.

  Maybe it was the fact that he had revealed his secret to her, that he seemed to trust her to some measure. She supposed he deserved something in return, something she didn’t share with just anyone.

  Or maybe it was that she felt drawn to him, in a way she hadn’t been to any other man before him. He was sexy and a little bit mysterious, and utterly masculine. She felt herself leaning toward him again without even realizing it.

  His eyes locked with hers, darkening slightly. “The Danish philosopher Kierkegaard held similar views,” he said, his voice rumbling. “He believed that how one views oneself in relation to objective fact is the real truth.”

  Her heart rate picked up as he stepped closer again. “For instance, I can say that I ran across a beautiful woman in the forest, and she smiled at me.” He reached forward, brushing a lock of her thick, dark hair behind her ear. “But it’s how I act on those facts that determine the truth of the situation.”

  His breath hitched. “And how will you act on those facts?” she whispered.

  He smiled, and her lips parted at the sight. He had a beautiful smile, his full lips framing straight, white teeth. His eyes shone a deep amber in the dim light filtering through the trees. He raised a hand to her jaw, rubbing his thumb along her chin before sliding the hand back behind her neck. He seemed to be silently asking for permission, and before she could think twice about it, she nodded.

  And then he leaned into her, closing the distance between their lips.

  CHAPTER TWO

  This kiss was a first for Joanna for a number of reasons. It was the first time she’d kissed a stranger. She didn’t even know his name, yet here she was, pressing her lips to his, kissing him back for all she was worth. It was also the first time she’d kissed a man outside of her tribe. Her mother would be outraged to see her right now.

  That thought made her smile into his mouth as she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She might never see this man again, might never get to feel his plump, chapped lips moving against hers again. But she could savor this impulsive, out-of-the-blue moment. Something that was hers and hers alone. Something she did just because she wanted to.

  He licked along the seam of her lips, and she opened for him. His tongue glided along hers, silky and seductive, and she was pulled under, drowning in sensation. He tasted like the berries that his bear self had just been eating, and she almost giggled.

  But all mirth vanished at the feel of his big, rough hands on her. They ghosted down her side, settling on her waist, fingertips brushing against the patch of bare skin where her tank had ridden up. He pulled her forward, pressing his hips against hers. His hard length teased her through the layers of fabric separating them, creating an ache in her that was fast becoming urgent.

  Her head spun. She’d never had this before, this dizzying, knee-wobbling attraction. In the past, sex had been nice enough, but never this. Never so vital, so necessary, as though she needed him more than she needed her next breath.

  She gave herself a mental head shake. It was probably just the suddenness of all this that was making her crazy. Ten minutes ago, she'd been hiking her favorite mountain trail, enjoying the unusually warm October day, the sunshine and greenery and fragrant woods. Five minutes ago, she was facing off against a bear and realizing that it was more than meets the eye.

  And now. Now, here she was, kissing a stranger. And yet it didn't feel strange at all. No, it felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be, doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing. It felt familiar and thrilling all at once.

  He broke the kiss, but seemed unable to separate from her for long. He planted small, soft kisses on the corners of her mouth, skating those full lips across hers. He rested his forehead against hers.

  “I've never done that before,” he whispered, sounding reluctant to admit it. “Kissed somebody I just met.”

  She smiled, pressing her lips to his for a moment. “It's crazy,” she whispered back.

  He pulled away, frowning slightly. “Yeah. I guess it was too much.” He looked away. “We don't even know each other.”

  She shook her head, bunching his shirt in her fingers, pulling him back into her space. “It's crazy because it doesn't feel crazy. It's crazy because it feels right.”

  He smiled again, and she felt a little sad to think she might never see that smile after today. But she pushed that thought away, pulling him back down to her for another kiss.

  The minutes marched on, and still they kissed and kissed, neither one taking it any further, despite the growing ache between her legs and the rather obvious evidence of his need pressed into her hip. It was as though neither of them wanted to break the spell. This was so unexpected and so wonderful that Joanna almost felt as though she was dreaming.