by Rose, Renee
“Are you telling me”—his eyes rove up and down my face—“that a woman who looks like you, with that hot as fuck body… has never known pleasure by a man?”
Caleb the mountain man, pulling no punches.
My pussy clenches. Heat feathers across my skin.
“Um—”
He lays a big hand on my collarbone, his thumb finding my pulse and lightly stroking. Holy hell, my body comes alive. The angel choir is singing, and he’s barely even touching me.
“Body like this was made to be stripped naked. Stroked all over.” His voice seeps into secret places. I usually hate—despise—being reduced to a pair of big tits. Objectification of women makes me crazy. But my body responds to his every word. His eyes meet mine with the impact of a stun gun. The light hits them at a strange angle, making them appear yellow instead of brown. “…worshipped. I would take so much time…” His hand cups the back of my neck, massaging. I melt. Ten seconds, and I’m butter on a hot griddle. “Countless orgasms,” he murmurs. “Endless pleasure. The fact that you haven’t met a man to give you all that, baby… it’s a crime against humanity.”
I open my mouth but can’t make a sound.
“First thing I’d do, Dr. M”—he stares at my lips—“is take that mouth. That pouty, smart mouth. I’d kiss you until you couldn’t keep still. Then I’d pin your arms above your head, hold you down and kiss you some more.” He inhales deeply, like he can’t get enough of my scent. His eyes rove over me as potent as any touch. Tingles start at my breasts and spread outward. “Then I’d undress you, slowly. Kiss you some more. Find out where to touch. What makes you sigh. I’d taste you”—he swallows, and I gulp in some air—“all over. Everywhere.” His voice deepens. Ripples spread through my body, pulling me under. “And then…”
A long pause.
“And then?” I squeak.
He blows out a breath. I lean in close and he goes tense.
“No,” he says.
“No?”
“This is a bad idea.” He retreats.
My mouth falls open.
“We shouldn’t. I shouldn’t…” He rubs his hand over his face. “Forget what I said.”
“What?” I’m on my feet. “You can’t just… say all those things to me and then back off!”
“Miranda—” Confusion flits over his face.
“Countless orgasms? Endless pleasure?” I wave my arms. “Taste me all over? You can’t say those things to a… a… sexually deprived woman and then just leave me hanging.”
He stares at me, pain around his eyes, mirroring my own.
I take a deep breath and say the most outrageous thing I’ve ever said, much less thought. “You have to show me what you got.”
“No.”
“Caleb! Please?” I gesture to the bedroom.
He narrows his eyes at me. “It’s a bad idea.”
I rise, sending my chair flying. Ignoring the crash behind me, I slam my hand on the table. “You know what I think? You’re all talk and no walk.”
“Excuse me?” he growls.
“That’s right. You heard me. You’re scared I’ll find you lacking.”
“I am not scared.” He comes at me again, big muscle man. I have his number.
“You are too.” I puff out my chest and my nipples poke him. My knees wobble but I hold my ground. “You’re up here, hiding from the world, a big fat chicken.”
“Miranda—”
“Bwook bwook bwook,” I do my best chicken imitation. It is a fabulous imitation—very authentic.
“Miranda—”
“Bwaka! Bwaka!” I chicken dance in front of him. Not the sexiest way to signal my arousal, but judging by the way his jeans tent and a red flush creeps up his neck, it’s working. I flap my arms and bob my head. The mating call of the ecologist PhD. The female approaches the rugged male and shakes her plumage. He is stunned.
A glance down makes me realize his flannel shirt has flapped open again, and I am flashing Caleb over and over.
“Oops.” I go to rebutton when a hand grips my wrist.
“Don’t bother.” He’s breathing hard.
“What?” I start, and he twists my arm behind my back, bringing me flush against his body. His rock hard, very aroused body.
“You asked for it,” he rasps a second before he drops his head and claims my mouth.
* * *
Caleb
I can’t stop myself. The curvy scientist has a long hard fuck coming and someone’s got to give it to her. She needs to know that not all men are takers. That sex should feel good. That she’s got a body built for pleasure.
The scent of her arousal intoxicates me more than my hooch intoxicated her. I slant my lips over her mouth, taking it. Owning it. My tongue sweeps between her lips, I taste the alcohol and chocolate on her breath.
Stop. Back off.
She’s drunk.
You’re taking advantage.
Reason attempts to seep in, but my bear’s not having it. He claws to the surface and my teeth lengthen.
Christ, bear. Really? A mating bite? My bear is fucking insane.
I force myself to break the kiss and step back. “Doctor, you’ve had too much to drink to make good decisions.”
She twists the fabric of my shirt in her fists and pulls my lips down to hers again. I give in for a moment, tasting her, devouring her.
And the teeth lengthen again.
Fuck. I have no control. I yank back. And then because I don’t have the skills to verbally spar with her, I throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the guest room.
Gretchen’s room. That quiets my bear.
I ease her down on the bed and back up to the doorway, to remove the urge to climb right on top of her. “Have a little nap, Doctor. Sleep it off. Come see me when you’re sober if you still want a lesson in what a real man can do.” I’m taunting her like a jackass, maybe half-hoping she’ll be so turned off by my arrogance she’ll keep her distance.
My cock strains at my jeans, not down with this plan of leaving her on the bed. Alone.
She stares up at me with green eyes. Innocence mingled with intelligence. Drunkenness with desire.
I take another step back. I need to get somewhere I can breathe. Somewhere I can stuff my bear back down.
“You’re a patronizing ass.”
I grin because I like when she gives it back to me. I like her resistance, her sass. “Not patronizing, just an ass. And you’re tipsy. Sleep it off.”
I shut the door firmly, like she’s an errant child I sent to bed. Maybe I am patronizing. I give my cock a brutal squeeze through my jeans and grind my teeth.
This female will be the death of me.
I don’t even know what I was thinking, offering to sex her up. I can’t even blame that on the bear. It was all me.
But finding out she’s never known pleasure—it just seemed like a goddamn travesty. The gentleman in me had to offer to right that wrong. I swear it was an act of community service, not self-interest.
Oh fuck that, who am I kidding? I’ve wanted to pound into that woman since the moment I first saw her drive up the mountain. There’s just something about her. That fierce determination. Her bond with her dog. The way she looked at my bear like he was a fucking unicorn or something. And that was before I saw her naked. Now I can’t stop thinking about those big, beautiful breasts. Her hourglass figure, the child-bearing hips made for me to hold onto as I give it to her hard.
But I’m not doing a relationship. I have no plan to ever replace Jen as my mate, especially not with a human. So I would’ve just kept my hands off her.
Then she had to go and tell me she hates sex. Now I’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about fixing that problem for her.
But even if she comes out sober and still wants to tango—which I doubt she will—I don’t even think I’m capable of fucking her without losing control.
I’ve got to get the bear locked down. And if I can’t, I’d better get the hell ou
t of this cabin. Because if I make a mistake. If I lose control, the consequences will be too great. And then I’ll have no choice but to turn myself into the Tucson pack and ask Garrett to put me down for good.
* * *
Test Subject 849
“Time for your tests,” I crow to the female in the cage.
“No.” She huddles against the back of the dog kennel in her filthy bra and panties—the same pair she’s been wearing for months. I open the door, reach in and shoot her with a muscle relaxant so she can’t fight me before I pull her out.
Not that she’s much of a threat against my super-human strength, but you can never be too careful.
I strap her to a gurney and withdraw her blood, mixing it with the serum before I inject it back into her. I slap her cheeks, watching her pupils for changes as the serum takes effect.
Just a few more test subjects and we’ll get the right formula. We’ll unlock the DNA of all shifters.
The tests on healing abilities have been inconclusive. All of the cuts and bruises I’ve inflicted on the subjects heal at a normal, human rate.
I require more data. A larger sample size.
If only I’d been able to take that bear shifter and her daughter, I’d have everything I need. I could’ve reworked my own DNA. Possibly bred her to make my own shifter offspring. But she’d shifted and attacked, and I’d killed her before I could get control.
My own fear / pain response triggers too quickly.
There must be a more satisfactory balance. One with more control. With the missing DNA filled into the sequence for complete transformation.
“Please,” the female begs, but she’s helpless to move.
I slap her anyway. She needs to learn to be more agreeable to my tests. Like I was when they tested me.
The only way she’ll be rewarded with the upgraded DNA is through her compliance.
I slap her again, just because it satisfies me on some level. “Quiet. Your job is to remain quiet and let your blood assimilate the serum. Then we’ll test your pain levels.”
I turn to the female strapped down beside her. “Your turn,” I say, chuckling at the acrid scent of fear that comes off her.
Chapter 7
Miranda
When Caleb left me on the bed with my body on fire and my confidence ruffled, I wanted to throw something at him. But it turns out he was right.
I was drunk.
And a nap helped.
I wake up a couple hours later with a much clearer head.
And then I’m afraid to leave the bedroom because I can’t decide if I should be embarrassed or pissed off or grateful. Well, there’s no decision, really. I’m all three.
I’m relieved to know Caleb is as much of a gentleman as I suspected. Rough-edged, grumpy, but pure chivalrous gentleman.
I glom onto that thought as I walk out and find him in the kitchen, pulling a giant rainbow trout from the oven.
“Mmm, that smells amazing.”
He grunts but doesn’t turn around.
“Did you catch it yourself?”
“Yep.” He still hasn’t looked at me. He carries the fish to the table and sets it on a trivet. Only then does he turn and wave a hand toward one of the chairs. “Come and eat.”
“Thank you.” I’m acutely aware of my nipples protruding through the flannel shirt. Oh hell, why is it flapping open? The memory of unbuttoning it down past my sternum comes back along with a flush of heat. I fumble with the buttons, but the way he watches my fingers only makes me blush harder.
I wonder if my clothes are out of the dryer? A bra would probably be appropriate.
I dive into the chair at the table to hide my embarrassment and pick up the fork there. Wait. He set the table?
I’m suddenly absurdly pleased that he went to the effort to cook and set the table. In an attempt to impress his chosen female, the male embraces acts of domesticity. Well, maybe he’s not trying to impress me. If there were wine glasses out, I’d be sure he was trying to woo me, but there aren’t. He’s probably had enough of tipsy Miranda.
He sits down across from me and serves the fish along with baked potatoes and eyes me like a creature he doesn’t completely understand, one who might say or do something outrageous at any moment.
I decide to shock him. “So when are you going to show me what a real man can do?”
He goes still, fork halfway to his mouth, lips open. I savor his surprise. Faced with a female who makes the first move, the male reassesses his strategy.
The silence stretches on and I resist the urge to squirm. Most men don’t like women pursuing them because they’re so used to it being the other way around. They think if a woman wants them, there must be something wrong with her. Or it takes away the thrill of the hunt. I’d hoped Caleb would be more evolved, but maybe I read him wrong. His body definitely screams macho.
After a long moment he shrugs and says, “Well, you are here for research purposes.” He takes a bite of food. Is there a playful gleam in his eyes?
“Right. Strictly research,” I agree. “Scientific studies.”
A ghost of a smile plays around his lips. “We do still have the whole night to kill.”
“Right. And we’ve already played truth or dare.”
His booming laugh startles me. I swear it surprises him, too, because he cuts it off immediately and blinks like he’s bewildered such a sound would come out of him. I’m struck suddenly by what a likeable guy he is. What makes a naturally charming man with a babe-magnet body turn so sour and hole up in a cabin in the middle of nowhere?
What’s he escaping from?
Bear looks over from the rug in front of the fire where he’s been parked and wags his tail.
“Do you get lonely up here by yourself, Caleb?” I ask softly, dropping my eyes to my plate to take the intensity out of the question.
“I don’t know.” Again, he sounds almost surprised by his answer. “I mostly hibernate. I mean, I just sort of shut down. You’re forcing me to turn back on. It will probably feel strange when you leave.”
My gaze shoots up to meet his and tangles there. I’m dragged under by the depth of confusion and pain I find in his his dark brown eyes. And then I’m sure of it—Caleb the grouchy, kind mountain man is definitely lonely.
My heart tugs for him, especially because I know loneliness too, but I don’t allow any sympathy to show on my face. He’s way too alpha male to appreciate that. I want to ask what happened to him, because I’m certain something did—but the timing’s all wrong. If I really do want this man to show me what good sex is, then I can’t keep killing the mood.
He gets up and clears our plates. I gather the rest of what’s left on the table, watching the wide expanse of his shoulders as he stands at the sink. He’s as singular and spectacular as any natural wonder up here. One of the gems of the mountain.
I smile to myself, thinking of scientifically cataloging him. Homo sapiens squalentum. Yeah, that fits. Rugged Man.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, clomping off toward the bathroom without looking at me. But then as he reaches the door, he turns and gives me a look.
It pins me to my spot on the floor, makes my belly flutter with excitement, my nipples get hard. There’s dark promise in that gaze. Homo sapiens squalentum. Wicked, feral rugged man, getting clean for me. Grooming is an essential part of the mating dance.
The water cuts on and every cell in my body stands up at attention. Caleb’s in there, naked, getting ready to seduce me. This is happening.
Hormones flood my body. My ovaries are fanning themselves. I can practically feel them letting down eggs in pairs. Go get some, girl, they cheer. It’s about time!
It is about time. I sincerely hope he lives up to his boasting.
Somehow, I have a feeling he will.
* * *
Caleb
Human.
Female.
Human.
Female.
As I stand under the spray of
water, my brain and my bear go around and around. I’m trying to remind my bear that the very delectable woman in my cabin is human and; therefore, fragile. Too delicate for all the things I want to do to her. My bear wants me to do to her.
All my bear roars is, female. And it’s with the territorial dominance of a bear in full competition. As if we were in spring mating season and he has to fight off all the other males. He’s aggressive. Posturing.
And he needs to tone it the fuck down or I won’t have any finesse at all with that female. I won’t be able to change her opinion about men and sex. And for some unknown reason, that goal grows more and more important to me by the minute.
I fist my cock. I’d better let off some steam or I could lose control. But no, I’m too impatient. Too needy for the real thing. I can handle this. My head is on straight. I’ll keep the bear down. I soap up, washing every crevice, shampooing my hair. I even consider shaving the beard, but then I discard that idea. I haven’t shaved since Jen and Gretchen died. My signal to the world that I was out.
And while the numbness may have thawed these last twenty-four hours, I’m not ready to return to the living yet.
No matter how alluring that beautiful redhead out there may be.
I turn off the water and towel dry, then tug my boxers and jeans back on. I don’t bother buttoning or zipping the jeans, nor do I put on a shirt.
I saw the way she looked at my tattooed chest and arms this morning. She finds them attractive, no matter what she may say about hating sex. And I want her primed. I need all the help I can get to do this right.
A whisper of the half-dead Caleb speaks from the mirror. What are you doing with another woman?
I look away. Nothing. Just answering a challenge, that’s all. A male has to prove himself when challenged, right?
Nothing else.
She knows it’s nothing more than sex. For research purposes.