He took her by the hand and led her upstairs. His private bathroom was larger than her bedroom, with a huge soaking tub and a separate glass-walled shower. The entire room was tiled with pale blue tiles, with fluffy white area rugs scattered across the floor. Peter turned on the taps and steaming hot water poured into the tub.
“Jasmine?” he asked, selecting a small glass bottle from the cabinet, and as she nodded, he poured half of it into the water. The scent of jasmine permeated the room as bubbles filled the tub. He pressed a button on the wall near the light switch and the sounds of a night forest rose out of invisible speakers.
Cleo sighed.
God, how she needed this.
He kissed her lightly, and disappeared. She stripped off her filthy clothes and sunk into the tub, sliding down until the water covered her entire body with its silky wetness. She ran her hands over her arms and breasts, down her belly and legs and feet, pushing off the last bits of dirty smoke and sadness.
She shampooed her hair and ran liquid soap over her skin, reveling as her hands awakened every cell of her body, reminding her that she was alive. And so glad to be so.
It was over. She had survived, and more than that, the experience had brought her closer to Peter than ever.
Cleo pressed her hands into her lower belly, to where she imagined her last egg lay waiting to become a baby. The baby she would love for the rest of her life, unconditionally, forever. “Hello, little egg,” she whispered. “I love you, little egg.”
She relaxed back into the hot water, letting the fragrance of jasmine and the forest sounds totally melt her. But at that moment, she missed Peter.
She was ready.
She rose out of the water and wrapped herself in one of the thick, fluffy towels that were hanging on the rack, tucking it into itself over her breasts. She bent over and wrapped her hair in another towel, flipping it up like a turban.
Cleo leaned close to the mirror. Her entire body was pink and steaming from the hot bath. She gently patted a hand towel over her face. The place where she’d been slapped was bruising and tender, but she knew she would be fine. She was already feeling much better.
She unwrapped a new toothbrush that was on the counter and brushed her teeth, drinking an entire glass of water afterward. She shook her hair and blow-dried it just enough to get the dampness out.
There was no way in hell she was putting her dirty clothes back on. In fact, she picked them up with two fingers and dropped them in the trash can that was under the sink. She never wanted to see them again. After putting the wet towels in a hamper and draining the tub, Cleo opened the door to look for Peter.
In his bedroom, a set of Seattle Is for Lovers sweats were laid out for her on the bed. She had to laugh. This was obviously her outfit for the weekend—she couldn’t get away from it! So much for sexy but casual….
She slid into the soft, clean clothes. They were huge, so she rolled up the sweatpants and the arms of the sweatshirt, which came down nearly to her knees.
She slid into a waiting pair of slippers, probably Peter’s, also huge.
But she felt comfy and taken care of. There was a knock on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” she said.
Peter entered his bedroom. He had obviously showered in one of the other mansion bathrooms: his hair was wet and he also wore sweats.
“Better?” he asked.
“So much better. Thank you.”
He took her hand, filling her with pleasure and comfort.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. I ordered two large pizzas from Antonio’s, and the beer is all set up downstairs. Shall we?”
“How would you feel about staying up here?” she asked, pointing at the bed and the television set. “Do you ever eat in bed?”
“I love eating in bed. In fact, I have this.” He opened a closet and pulled out a huge silver tray. It was big enough to hold a large pizza and plates, and drinks, too.
“I’ll get the bed ready,” she said, taking the tray from him, “if you get the food.”
“Be right back.”
The bed was like a football field, it was so enormous. She set the tray at the foot of the bed and plumped up the pillows, making an especially tall pile near the center of the headboard. She ran over to the wall switch and dimmed the lights. She slid on top of the bed and leaned against the pillows.
There was little hope of making her outfit sexy. She looked down at it. Impossible. She fluffed her hair and crossed her ankles.
When Peter returned with the pizzas and beers, he arranged everything on the tray. He joined her on the pillows and took her hand. For a moment, they just rested. She felt so safe with Peter. She realized she didn’t ever want to leave his bedroom.
“Can we just stay here forever?” she said, laughing.
Cleo wondered how to get him from this cozy, safe mood to the sexy, hot mood she needed for her baby. She slid down the pillows and parted her lips, looking up at him.
“So you’re a bear shifter,” she said. “How come I never saw you at any of Zach and Amy’s parties?”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “No human knows. And I mean no one. It’s one of the most closely guarded secrets of the shifter community.”
“Why? Rex and Zach seem pretty open about it.”
“They’re not elected officials, and if they needed to they could disappear into the northern territories for a short time. If people found out they were shifters, I mean. Me? If I was driven from office and the city government collapsed, it would be terrible for the Pacific Northwest and even the country.”
“That makes sense.”
“When I tell the world I’m a shifter, I need to do it in a very deliberate way, so no one gets hurt. I thought that would have to happen this week because of Shaun. And I was ready to do it, but the entire shifter community needs to be ready. And they’re not. Not yet.”
“I’m glad it didn’t come to that.” She squeezed his hand.
A brief silence lingered long enough to become awkward.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” they both blurted out at the same time.
Then they both laughed.
“You go first,” he said.
“No! You go!”
He took her face in his hands, and gave her one perfect, tender kiss. “You’re my fated mate, Cleo. And I’m yours.”
She gasped. “What? What about Julianna?”
“Who?”
“Julianna Lee. The police officer.”
“Julianna?” He frowned and shook his head. “No. You, Cleo, are my mate.”
“I am?”
“I knew from the first moment we met. I couldn’t resist flirting with you, but never took it farther than that because I knew I would have to tell you about my bear before we mated. And I had sworn never to tell a human as long as I was in office. My term expires in two years and I want to start a family with you once I leave office. Cleo, will you be my mate?”
“Fated mates? Like Zach and Amy? Like Rex and Steph?”
“Exactly like that. We’re fated to be together. Forever. And once I leave office we can get married and start a family.” He smiled down at her.
She felt tears rise. “You can’t have a baby until you leave office?”
She had to choose between having her baby now and having this gorgeous bear shifter for the rest of her life.
But would he even want her if she couldn’t give him a family?
“Cleo, what’s wrong?” he asked, wiping a tear off her cheek and holding her close.
“I have to have a baby now!” she blurted, full-out crying now.
“Wait. Why? What’s wrong?”
“That’s what I was going to tell you. Tonight is the only night I can ever get pregnant. Probably in my entire life. I was going to seduce you because I thought you were a player!” She dissolved in tears, gulping in air as she lost her breath.
“A player? Me?”
“Yes, but you’re not. You’re a massive, gorgeou
s bear shifter who makes me baths and wears dumb sweatpants and has a special tray for eating in bed and so I can’t trick you and so I’ll never have a baby!”
“Cleo, slow down. Slow down.”
She gulped in air. She needed him to understand.
“I have collapsed fallopian tubes and marker 89-FB12. But I’m fertile for the next twenty-four hours. I might not ever be fertile again.”
“So you want to make a baby? Tonight?”
She nodded and used her palms to push tears off her cheeks, wincing a little as she grazed her bruise.
“Then let’s do it,” he said.
“Really?” She looked up at him.
“Cleo, you’re my one and only mate. I’ll do anything for you. If you want a baby, we’re making a baby.” He kissed her again, his lips lingering as what he was telling her sunk in.
“We are?”
“Don’t you understand? I love you.”
“You do?”
“There’s nothing I would rather do than make a baby with you.”
“Me neither,” she said, feeling the tears start again. “I love you too.”
He kissed her, and it was a damp, hot kiss. She let herself fall into him. He would take care of everything.
She was getting her baby and Peter too!
They both slid further down the bed and wrapped their legs around each other, pressing closer. She moved her foot toward him, and kicked something hard.
The pizza tray!
It keeled over and he leapt up to grab it, righting it quickly before the pizza slid onto the bed. They both burst out laughing.
“Disaster averted,” he said, as he carried the tray to a table. “Maybe we should have a bite, actually. You need to keep up your strength.”
He put two pieces of pizza on a plate and brought it to her, then went back for his own. As they ate the hot cheesy pies and drank beer, he kept his body close beside her, and when they’d had their fill, he carried the plates away.
He got back into bed and slid his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him.
It had already been such a crazy day. It felt so good just to rest. Her breath slowed, syncing with Peter’s. And before she knew it, they both had fallen asleep.
Much later, Cleo became aware of a hot pleasure between her legs.
She moaned. What was happening?
Whatever it was, she liked it.
She opened her eyes. She was in Peter’s bed and he lay beside her, propped on an elbow, running his hand under her sweats, from breasts to belly to pussy and back.
He gently pinched her nipples, first one and then the other, then dragged his fingers down her belly, lightly scratching her flesh.
The lights in the room were still dim. Outside the night sky was pitch-black.
“What a way to wake up,” she said, pulling him down to kiss her and simultaneously pushing off her sweats so she was naked.
His hand glided to her pussy and she lifted her hips to meet his pressure. She already felt slick as his fingers probed her, increasing her heat. “How long have you been awake?” she asked.
“Long enough to learn what you like,” he said, circling his fingers around her clit. She felt her hips buckle. She gasped.
“I was having the nicest dream,” she said.
“That was no dream.”
She lifted her mouth back to his, opening to him as she ran her hands over his body, finally touching the ass she’d been admiring for months, pulling him closer.
“Take off your clothes,” she said.
He did.
He kept the pressure on her pussy with his hand while his hot mouth devoured her lips, her breasts, her belly. Their months of flirting should have prepared her for the pleasure of fucking Peter, but nothing in her life had ever come close.
When she couldn’t take it anymore, she slid down to take him into her mouth. His throbbing cock was both rock-hard and silky-smooth, and she reveled in its delicious saltiness as she licked and sucked. He gasped each time she flicked him with her tongue, and when he pulled her back up to him, they were both on fire with need.
When he finally drove into her, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pounded her hard and deep, until neither one remembered anything except the fluidity of their bodies coming together.
They would make love twice more before his alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., and three times afterward. Was she pregnant? Cleo pressed her palms into her lower abdomen and relaxed into a floating sensation; all her worries had disappeared.
She laughed. He’d donated enough sperm to make a baby, that was certain.
She pulled Peter to her and pressed her softness deeply into his sturdy body, kissing him again and again.
Her man. Her bear.
When they were both ready to start their lives together, Peter and Cleo finally got out of bed.
Epilogue
Nine Months Later
“Motherfuckers!” Cleo screamed in agony. “Dolls! Make it stop!”
Amy and Zach offered her cups of ice but she just shoved them away.
“Watch your language now. You’re a mother! A role model,” Steph teased from the foot of the bed, where she and Rex were attending to the birth of Cleo and Peter’s baby. “The baby is crowning! Now push!”
Peter held tight to her hand, pressing his other hand into her lower back to massage away her agony. It didn’t work. She twisted his hand so hard she should have brought tears to his eyes. Instead he just beamed at her with such pride and love.
“We’re role models!” Cleo said to Peter, huffing through the pain. “We’re having a baby!”
“We’re having a baby!” he repeated, leaning down and stroking her forehead.
“Make that babies!” Steph said, as she lifted a perfect baby girl to Cleo’s breast.
Oh my god! So beautiful!
“Babies?” Amy dropped her cup of ice.
“Did you say babies?” Peter said, his eyes wide with joy.
“How many babies?” Cleo asked, so happy with this news.
“Keep pushing and you’ll find out!” Steph said, grinning.
Cleo pushed with all her might.
She tried not to swear, but a few more fucks did slip out before finally two more babies joined their older sister at Cleo’s breast.
Two girls and one boy!
No wonder she’d been so huge! Because it was her one shot, she hadn’t wanted to know anything about the baby during her pregnancy—but triplets! Steph and Rex had done a great job keeping that quiet.
“Oh, my darling,” Peter said. “I love you so much!”
“I’ll never swear again,” she promised Peter, beaming up at him as she stretched her arms all the way around their babies and pulled them closer, “except when I’m telling you and these three angels how much I fucking love them.”
And for two or three weeks, she didn’t.
* * *
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It Happened One Bear
1
Frankie Knightly has never seen the lobby of the Salish Breeze Hotel look so pretty, with new potted palm trees and twinkly lights everywhere. She fights the urge to skip across the polished tile floor. She's twenty-one, and not a child.
Also, she's wearing a dress.
All the hotel employees are decked out in fancy outfits instead of their regular green polo shirts and khakis. The Salish Island Film Festival is the biggest event of the year and everyone in town makes the most of it.
It's so exciting to be a part of it this year! She scans the room and bites down her lip to keep from grinning.
Frankie sees her writing teacher, Mr. Michaels, stationed behind the champagne fountain. He looks so cute in his tux. Most of the Salish Community College teachers have second jobs, but she didn't know that Mr. Michaels works at the hotel.
She gives him a little wave.
Mr. Michaels is a total book nerd,
and her favorite teacher. He lives for serious writing and saving the world. He was friends with Frankie’s mom before she got sick. Now he runs the English department.
Mr. Michaels waves her over. "Frankie! Ready to make your big splash on the red carpet?"
"Yes!" She tugs down the bottom of her dress, which all of a sudden feels too short, then reconsiders and yanks it up to cover her cleavage. As usual, it feels as though her body demands to be seen—boobs, belly, and ass all bursting from her clothes. She does her best to keep things reined in, but there's only so much one person can do.
The dress is a pale blue body-con from her senior prom. Unfortunately, it's a little tighter than it should be, thanks to all the extra weight she's gained since going on the pill.
It's been three years since her mom died of cancer, and Frankie is finally feeling like herself again. Although she'll always miss her, Frankie knows that her mom would want her to build a great life. She wants to make her mom proud.
Next week she’s graduating from her community college and moving to Los Angeles. She’ll go on a diet once she gets there. Maybe she’ll start running. Or doing yoga.
"You look gorgeous, as usual," Mr. Michaels says.
He is super sweet, but if she were really gorgeous, wouldn't she have a boyfriend?
Stay focused, she tells herself. You'll be on your way out of here in one week.
"I'm so excited," she says to Mr. Michaels. "Thank you, again."
Mr. Michaels pulled some strings with the mayor’s office to get her a press pass, so she could try out reporting for the college blog.
"You're very welcome. But I still want you to consider that creative writing program at U-Dub. You're such a good writer, Frankie. The world of fiction needs you."
Frankie blushes.
"Thanks," she murmurs.
She never knows what to say when he encourages her to stay in college or write fiction. It was hard enough to finish community college on her own, and she has no intention of going back to school. Ever.
University of Washington is great, but she just wants to be a reporter and live somewhere exciting. She’s not interested in making up fantasies and writing stories, even though Mr. Michaels says she’s good at it.
Shifters in Seattle: Box Set Books 1 - 5 Page 20