Handcuffed to the Bear: BBW Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance (Shifter Agents Book 1)

by Lauren Esker

  "Can you actually see me, or is it just a vaguely woman-shaped blur?"

  "I can see you." Jack put an arm around her waist and pulled her forward. "Smell you, too. You smell good." He buried his face in her shoulder.

  "What do I smell like?"

  "Shampoo. Woman. Mostly, just you." He flicked his tongue against her skin. "You aren't wearing perfume."

  "I don't very often. Just at work. I don't really like it, to be honest."

  "Most shifters aren't fond of artificial scents. They cover up the natural smells of the world."

  "I didn't know that was a shifter thing. I thought it was just something unique to me."

  "Oh, Casey," Jack whispered. He kissed her neck again. "I'm looking forward to showing the shifter world to you."

  He laid her down and she went willingly—kissing him, breathing him, feeling him.

  His cock was hard now, fully erect and wet at the tip, and she leaned forward to help him roll the condom down its length. She was wet herself, her thighs slippery. When Jack dipped a hand between her legs, she arched to meet him, spreading her legs.

  He guided himself into her, and heat flooded through her hips and lower belly. It felt as if she'd been waiting all her life for this—and, in some ways, she had.

  His first thrusts were shallow and careful, but Casey wrapped her arms around him and thrust back passionately. She wanted him deep; she wanted to feel the entire length of him fill her.

  Responding to her urgency, he pumped harder. His lips were parted, and his brown eyes were steady on her—forest eyes, she remembered thinking when she first looked into them. Now she felt as if she could lose herself in them, as if she could fall forever, and never regret a moment of it.

  Jack raised a hand to grip hers: automatic, unthinking. It was the same hands they'd held on the island, her left and his right. When he pressed her hand down to the bed, above her head, his fingers girdled her wrist.

  She was unprepared for the shock of lust that surged through her at the sensation.

  Seeing the look on her face, Jack grinned. "Like that?" he whispered.

  For answer, she put her other hand above her head, wrists together. Jack laid his across hers, pinning them. A sharp snap of electric something rushed through her.

  It's okay to want.

  Okay to need.

  Okay to relax, and just be—

  She closed her eyes and fell into the sensations.

  "You know," he said, panting between strokes, "I do have handcuffs—I could get them—"

  "Not now!" She pulled herself back from that wordless, wonderful place enough to snap the words, and wrapped her legs around him, holding him to her.

  I just want to feel you.

  I just want to feel me.

  With each stroke, a rush of heat filled her. She felt it all the way to the backs of her teeth, tingling through her whole body, driving her higher and higher. Words abandoned her, then; she was a creature of pure feeling now, existing in a timeless space where nothing was real but her body's desire and the soul-deep craving linking her to Jack.

  Her breath came in shallow gasps, in time with his. They moved in unison, faster and faster. The growing sensation built and built, until she didn't think she could take it anymore, and then—

  —on the bare edge, he paused, for a long endless instant—as if he knew, as if he could keep her there, keep them there: her body thrumming with ecstasy, her entire self poised on the edge of a plunge into the rapids of orgasm—

  —too much, and not enough; the growing need for release, the anticipation building and building—

  —and then he moved again, rocking his hips forward in one last powerful thrust, and she came with an explosion of white-hot sensation, the crescendo bursting through her and rolling down her limbs until every part of her sang with pleasure.

  She might have cried out; she wasn't sure.

  They rode out the aftershocks together, until at last they lay limp and sweaty on the rumpled sheets, tangled together and too spent to move.

  At last, he was the one to stir, carefully untangling himself and moving into a more comfortable position. He rolled up the condom and dropped it into the bedside trash.

  "That was ..." Words failed her. "Amazing," she managed at last.

  "Did the earth move?" Jack asked, smiling. He kissed the side of her face.

  "I don't know. It might have. I wouldn't have noticed an eight on the Richter Scale if it was right under us."

  They kissed lazily. Casey stretched out, her entire body limp with happy lassitude. An occasional little flutter clenched her, inside, a pleasant echo of the afternoon's activities. Even her leg didn't really hurt at the moment.

  "Glad I came over," she murmured.

  "Mmm. Me too."

  After a little while Jack got up. Casey made a faint protesting sound and rolled limply into his warm spot, but she mustered the energy to sit up when he came back with their mostly-uneaten lunch.

  "Don't know about you," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, "but I worked up an appetite."

  "Me too." She took the plate he handed her, and laughed. "This does stop eventually, right? I feel like I don't do anything anymore except eat!"

  "It'll stop. Don't fight it. Your body needs it. Eat if you want to eat, sleep if you want to sleep."

  "Both, I think," she said, around a mouthful of burger. "Both sounds good."

  "Not at once, I hope. You might choke."

  "What a comedian. Don't quit your day job."

  They ate for a little while in silence; then Casey said hesitantly, "Jack, there's something I've been thinking about. I'm just floating it out there as an idea, okay? Promise me you won't laugh."

  He made a cross-my-heart gesture. "I promise."

  "Do you remember on the island, how I talked about wanting to be something like a police officer or a firefighter?"

  She looked up hesitantly. He was giving her his undivided attention, and he offered a small nod.

  "I was wondering—or I guess I should say, I was hoping ... Do you think the SCB might want me?"

  Jack broke into a wide grin.

  "Casey, I think you'd make great SCB material."

  "Really?" she asked, flattered and delighted. "I don't know what the qualifications are. Is there some kind of test you have to pass, or, like, the SCB version of Quantico, or something?"

  "It's different for everyone. It depends on what your background is, and what you want to do." He put his empty plate aside and settled beside her on the bed. "In my case, because I had extensive field experience, they recruited me directly. I went through an orientation and a short probationary period—obviously working domestically as a federal agent has a lot more limitations than being overseas as a free operator. If you want to intern in the office, you could probably start tomorrow. Or, well, whenever there's an opening and the budget allows for it, so next quarter is more likely."

  "What about being a field agent?"

  "You'll need to apply. I'll happily sponsor you. There will be a background check and you'll need to schedule an interview with Pam Stiers—she heads the Pacific Northwest division. If the application gets approved, then you'll start training. To answer your earlier question, we don't have anything as organized as Quantico. Field agents are trained by other agents, and you'll be put in the field as a probie whenever we think you're ready."

  "And there aren't any qualifications or anything? I mean, like needing a college degree, or experience with other law enforcement agencies. That kind of thing."

  Jack shook his head. "Not formally. Obviously you'd be a good candidate for a field agent if you have some police or military background, but you definitely don't need it. Most of our agents don't have that. Avery and I are exceptions."

  "I could do this," she said, speaking to herself as much to him. "I could be an SCB agent."

  Jack kissed her, and pulled her against him, arm wrapped around her. "I absolutely believe you could. And I'll tell anybod
y who asks the same thing. I've seen how you work under pressure, and I stand by what I told you on the island. There's no one else I'd rather have at my back."

  Casey's heart lifted. Everything was happening so fast. In just a few short days, her whole world had changed. She'd gone from being completely alone, surrounded by potential enemies, to having a boyfriend and tentative new friendships and the possibility of a career doing the one thing she'd never believed she really could do.

  Maybe reality was going to come crashing back down on her soon. But for now, she leaned into Jack and closed her eyes, and thrilled to the possibilities opening up in front of her.

  Epilogue

  Since moving to Seattle at the age of eighteen, Casey had been on the ocean rarely. She and Wendy had taken the ferry to Bainbridge or other nearby islands a few times, but riding a ferry was more like being on a floating parking garage than on an actual boat.

  And, after her experience with the Fallons, she didn't think she'd ever want to go out on the water again.

  But now she was leaning into the wind in a small speedboat, salty sea spray dusting her face as they skipped through the waves. Jack was solid at her back, his big hand laced through hers (right in left, as usual), and Eva Kemp was at the controls. The boat was called the Blackfish, according to the name painted on its prow, along with a silhouette of what Casey had thought was a leaping dolphin when she first saw it.

  "Blackfish is another name for the killer whale," Eva had explained. Taking in Casey's street clothing—a sweater, jacket, and jeans—she'd thrust a life preserver and a water-resistant windbreaker at her.

  Casey had to take off her backpack to put them on. Eva held out a hand for it, but Casey shook her head and held onto it, sliding it awkwardly over the vest when she was done.

  The weather was dull and gray when they left the port. It was not winter yet, but autumn was definitely closing in: colors blazed brightly along the shore, and red and yellow leaves gleamed among the pine trees on Whidbey Island.

  As they rounded the island's southern tip, the sun broke through the clouds and the sea turned the color of deep green glass. Casey gasped at the unexpected palette of colors: the brilliant water, the autumn foliage on shore.

  Eva cut the engine. The boat slowed, rocking gently as the waves rolled beneath the hull. She looked back at Casey. "Does this look like a good place?"

  "I guess one place is as good as another." Casey swallowed, and slipped off her backpack, unzipping the main compartment to take out the urn the funeral home had given her.

  Wendy Lebrun had no will and no close relatives. On her employment paperwork at Lion's Share, she'd listed Casey as her emergency contact. Once the remains identified as hers were released from the SCB's forensics office, no one had objected to Casey claiming them.

  She wasn't sure if Wendy would have preferred to be cremated or buried. They had never talked about it. But to Casey, the idea of her free-spirited friend having her final resting place in the sound, among the orcas and the sea birds and the adventure-seeking kayakers who flocked north every summer, seemed like something Wendy would have adored.

  She unscrewed the top of the urn and opened the plastic bag inside.

  "Goodbye, Wendy," she said softly. She scattered the ashes over the side until they were all gone, vanishing into the glossy tops of the waves rolling against the boat's side.

  Jack put an arm around her, and Casey leaned into him. It was getting easier to accept comfort from other people—Jack, especially.

  It had been two months since they'd nearly died on the island, and Casey felt like she was slowly starting to put her life back together. She'd reluctantly accepted Dr. Lafitte's therapist recommendation, and was keeping a weekly appointment; she wasn't really sure if it was helping, but it felt like she was at least doing something to manage her own mental health. She was volunteering three days a week at the clinic, which gave her something to do while she waited on the results of her application to the SCB.

  She had intended to keep her own apartment for awhile, but after the first month, since she'd been over at Jack's every night anyway, she'd capitulated to the inevitable and moved her things over to his place. No sense in draining her ever-shrinking bank account paying for an apartment she didn't even live in, after all. She did insist on paying her share of Jack's mortgage, at least until her savings ran out.

  She was trying not to think of what she'd do after that, if the SCB turned her down. Get a job, she supposed. With her various secretarial skills, she was fairly well qualified to work in an office somewhere.

  But the idea of being an SCB agent had gotten its hooks deep into her brain. She didn't want to go back to filing paperwork and fetching coffee. Two years of devoting herself mind, body, and soul to a single purpose had apparently affected her more than she'd realized. She wanted a goal, she needed a goal, and if she got turned down by the SCB, well, she'd just try again. She had managed to reinvent herself in two years from a waitress with no secretarial skills to the administrative assistant to the head of the company, after all, and if she had to put in the same amount of effort to get into the SCB, well then, she would do it.

  She was already working on it. Jack was teaching her to handle a gun properly—they'd been having regular shooting practice at the SCB range, and she was getting pretty good with her little handgun, if she did say so herself. As her leg healed, she'd begun jogging, and while she couldn't even remotely come close to keeping up with Jack, she was already doing a (very slow) mile every other day. She'd also started looking into gyms where she might learn some sort of martial arts.

  "Doing okay?" Jack asked her softly, bringing her back to reality.

  "Yeah. I'm all right." She wiped her eyes, and was mildly surprised to find them dry. "I'm just glad we stopped those bastards from being able to hurt anyone else. I think Wendy would be proud."

  "Yeah." Jack squeezed her. "I think so."

  "Hey, guys." Eva pointed. "Look out there."

  A reef of long black backs and glistening dorsal fins broke through the water. Casey had to squint to see them at first, but they were coming closer—weaving playfully around each other, leaping in and out of the water like black-and-white darning needles.

  "Are these your pod, Eva?" Casey asked.

  "Yep. Suquamish orca shifters."

  One of the orcas jumped all the way out of the water, flipping over and splashing back down in a great cascade of spray. Eva waved. "Show-off," she said fondly. "There's another pod swimming with them today. Not shifters, I don't think—just regular orcas. Us water-mammal shifters, the killer whales and dolphins and seals, stay on friendly terms with our animal cousins."

  The orcas reached the boat. They jostled around it, chirping and whistling. Casey had never realized orcas made any noise at all.

  "They've been off giving the tourist boats a show," Eva said, hanging over the side. "No, Ma, I can't go swimming with you right now. How would these nice folks get back to shore?"

  "You can talk to each other when you're shifted!" Casey exclaimed.

  "Certainly we can." Eva looked back at her. "Want to take your clothes off and go swimming with some orcas?"

  Casey looked warily over the edge at the waves rolling against the side of the boat. "Isn't it a little cold?"

  "You think bad guys are going to care if the water's cold before they push you in? With all these orcas around, you can't drown. Now would be an excellent time to start learning some deep-water survival skills, Trainee McClaren."

  It took a moment for the import of that casual statement to sink in. Then she gave a yell of sheer delight. "I'm in! They accepted my application!"

  Eva nodded, smiling.

  Casey flung her arms around Jack's neck and kissed him. Then she pulled back with a scowl. "Wait. Did you know?"

  "Well, I was planning a nice dinner to surprise you with the news." Jack shot Eva a glare, only partly feigned. "Until someone decided to spill the beans early."

  Casey kis
sed him again, tasting sea salt on his lips. "That's okay, I'll happily take you up on that celebration dinner when we get back to shore." She leaned closer and nipped at his ear. "And other sorts of celebration activities."

  Jack kissed the side of her jaw and her neck, and curled his hand lightly around her left wrist, making her shiver. "It's a promise," he whispered.

  "Guys!" Eva protested in a playful tone. She pointed at a pair of curious smaller orcas nosing alongside the boat. "There are children present. Get a room."

  Casey stopped with her fingers on the buckles of her life vest. "I hope their parents don't mind if I take my clothes off, do they?"

  "Not at all. Go ahead."

  She stripped off the vest and windbreaker, sweater and jeans. Taking off her underwear with an audience turned out to be harder than she'd expected. Jack watched appreciatively, and Eva with mild unconcern.

  "Okay," Casey said. The chilly ocean breeze brought the hairs standing up on her arms, and she couldn't help a nervous little flinch at the idea of someone seeing her out here. Could you get arrested for indecent exposure on a boat? But there was no one nearby. A small flotilla of bright orange and red kayaks, too far off to make out anything except their vivid colors, were the closest signs of human observers. Here and there, a distant house could be glimpsed onshore, but they were too far away to even tell if there were people in the yards.

  "Now what? Do I just jump in?"

  "Not quite," Eva said. "What I want you to do is fall over the side—backward, if you can bring yourself to do it—and shift as you go down. You'll be better insulated against the cold and better able to swim as a lynx. Being able to shift in mid-fall is an excellent skill to develop."

  It was still very strange being able to shift in front of people at all. "What if someone sees me?"

  "There's no one around to see."

  Jack gave her a supportive nod. "Go ahead. You can do it."

  Casey sat on the boat's gunwale. It was sharply cold under her bare buttocks. She looked down at the water, which suddenly seemed both too close and much too far away. Both her hands clamped onto the side, holding herself in place.