Billionaire Bear Brotherhood Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  She swallowed. "But that doesn't mean the partnership can't be ... fruitful. You can enjoy working with someone, even knowing there's an end date."

  "That's how it has to be." He ran a thumb over her cheekbone where the light caught her skin. It hurt, somehow, to lay out his limitations. "I'm not made for anything else.

  "And you're a man who sets his own terms."

  He stepped closer to her. "Yes."

  "Who gets exactly what he wants."

  "Yes." He turned her just enough to press her body into the table. "And what I want right now is you."

  Chapter Twelve

  Skye

  Skye felt like she couldn't draw a full breath. But seriously, who could care about breathing when she was standing next to a man like Marcus Sinclair. A man who had just said he wanted her.

  It was stupid to sleep with a contact. She knew that. But she was starting to believe that this tip wasn't going anywhere, despite A.J.'s assurance that his source was good. Why would Marcus go to this much trouble to convince her that he would care for the land, only to turn around and destroy it?

  Besides, it wouldn't be more than a fling. Just this one night. Marcus had all but said that he wasn't interested in her for the long term. Sure, it hurt, but it didn't mean she couldn't take whatever pleasure he could bring her. Whatever satisfaction they could make together.

  For the first time in years, she wasn't thinking about what was best for her career. She was barely able to think at all. Her brain felt clouded with a haze of lust. She could walk away now and end this evening like a professional. Or she could let go and, just this once, take what she wanted for herself.

  He reached out and tipped her chin up so she was looking him in the face. "Skye. Do you want me too?"

  "Yes." The word came out on a whisper, but he obviously heard her because his eyes flared with triumph. Slowly, so slowly that she could have pulled away at any moment, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  It was a soft kiss, a light kiss. Yet, it reverberated through her like an earthquake. He tasted of champagne and chocolate, of sin. She couldn't help but reach out her tongue to taste him.

  That was all he needed. He crushed her body to his, pressing her breasts against his hard chest. His hands were everywhere, hot and demanding, turning her skin to molten lava.

  She was just as hungry as he was. She shoved his jacket to the floor to better feel the strong body beneath his shirt. God, he was huge--slabs of muscle layered over his torso, all hard and cut like granite. He was so strong, she thought dizzily as she ran her hands over his arms and shoulders. So powerful.

  His hands were on her ass, kneading the flesh there, and she would have felt self-conscious if he hadn't groaned with satisfaction. "I've been waiting to get my hands on your ass since the first time we met," he growled in her ear, and she shivered with pleasure.

  Suddenly, he boosted her up. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her narrow skirt hiked up to her hips, and through the thin lace of her panties she could feel his erection pressing against the front of his pants.

  If what she felt was any indication, he was huge in more ways than one.

  He continued to kiss her as he carried her across the room to his desk and sat her on the edge, sweeping papers aside. "Did I mention I love you in this dress?" he asked, running his hands up her side.

  "No," she said, breathless. His blue eyes were laser-focused.

  "I'm going to love you more out of it," he said, yanking down the zipper that ran up the back.

  She felt a sudden wave of nerves. The dress covered up all the flaws and imperfections underneath. Would he be disgusted when he saw her wide hips, her soft belly, the weight of her breasts?

  But this was no time for insecurities. She had the hottest man she had ever seen in her arms, and she wasn't about to let him go. Reaching for confidence she didn't feel, she pushed his hands aside.

  "Let me do it," she said, her voice husky with nerves.

  He gave her an inch of space to stand but didn't stop running his hands over her. She reached back and unzipped the dress all the way. With a wiggle and a shimmy, it fell to her feet.

  "God," Marcus said hoarsely. He brushed his palm over her lace-covered nipple, making her gasp. "If I had known this is what you were wearing under that dress, I would have ripped it off you the second I saw you."

  Skye giggled. "You'd have given Maddy quite a show."

  "She's pregnant, she's probably familiar with the general concept of what I have in mind." Delicately, he traced his fingertips over the whorls of black lace.

  Her nipples were straining for his touch. Breath was backing up in her lungs. "You're killing me."

  His smile was wicked. "Good. Payback for how I've been feeling all night. God, you are so fucking hot." He lifted her breast in his hand and met her nipple with his lips.

  Skye shuddered. His face was buried in her breasts now, licking and sucking and nipping with a hunger that made her knees weak. Her hands fell to his shoulders for balance as she tipped back her head in surrender.

  His mouth came back to hers, drowning her in his kiss. He must have unbuttoned his shirt, because the hard flesh of his chest pressed against her.

  "Turn around," he growled, whirling her himself when she didn't respond fast enough. She stumbled a bit on her heels, she was so drunk on the taste of him. "I've got to see that gorgeous ass."

  She braced herself against the desk as he positioned her hips--legs spread, ass tilted in the air. He groaned and pressed himself against her, grinding into her through his pants. Skye gave a shocked cry. She was so close, so fucking close, and if she could only get a bit more friction ... but he pulled away before she could release the tension inside her.

  He leaned down and caressed her ass and thighs as he pressed a kiss to the bow that joined the three strings of her thong. His thumbs were so close to the spot where she really wanted his touch. She rotated her hips in desperate invitation. "Please Marcus. Please, touch me."

  He groaned and slipped her damp thong down her legs. She felt so wanton, bent over like this, begging for him to take her. All the confidence she'd lacked earlier was flowing through her now, under his worshipful touch.

  And then he knelt behind her, shifting her feet apart until she was completely open to him. Then he buried his face in her pussy, his tongue dipping inside her while his stubbled chin rubbed her clit, and she lost her mind completely.

  She fell to her elbows on the desk, which tilted her hips even higher. Her legs were quivering, all the way down to the heels she still wore. His hands, clamped on her thighs, were all that was keeping her upright. She could see him, kneeling between her legs, and the erection that was straining his slacks showed her his desire. But he took his time, licking and sucking and teasing until she exploded.

  Then he used his fingers, swirling them inside of her while he bit and kissed her ass. The steady pumping rhythm of his fingers, combined with the shock of his wandering mouth, had her coming again in mere moments. And then again. She could barely tell each orgasm from the next. It was like riding out a storm on the lake--huge rolling waves punctuated by lightning and thunder.

  "I'm going to fuck you," he growled, getting to his feet. His belt buckle hit the rug with a thump. "I have to fuck you."

  "Yes," she cried, opening herself to him. "Marcus, yes."

  He rubbed the head of his cock against her slick folds. She heard him gasp as if he had been electrocuted, and for a moment he pulled away. "No, please," she moaned, reaching back to pull on his thigh. "I need you inside me."

  His long legs aligned with hers as he took a steady position behind her. He groaned, fitting himself against her again. After a moment of hesitation, he pressed.

  "Oh God. Oh my fucking God," he whispered. He was shuddering, and for a moment Skye thought he had finished already. But then he took a deep breath and stroked his full length inside her.

  The trembling began again as he slowly pumped into her, his leng
th and width stretching her pussy. She felt herself coming yet again when he was fully sheathed inside her. Before long, she was soaking wet and begging for more as he pistoned in and out of her.

  His mouth was on her back, kissing her spine and shoulder blades as he held her hips firmly in place. He brushed her hair off her neck so he could kiss her there, laying his teeth into her like an animal marking its mate.

  Suddenly he jerked her upright so her back was against his chest. She could feel her breasts bouncing in time with his pounding thrusts, even though she still wore the black lace bra. One of his big hands grabbed her breast while the other slid down her body and rubbed her clit.

  That's when she screamed. He twisted her head so he could swallow the sound with his mouth, kissing her with all the wild energy of his cock pounding into her. And then he was exploding inside her, filling her, shuddering hard and fast until all that incredible strength gave out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marcus

  Oh dear God. What had he done?

  They were collapsed on the floor of his home office, still dewy with sweat and limp with satisfaction. Skye was curled against him, as naturally as though she had always been there, and would always be there. Marcus had his arms wrapped around her, stuck between abject panic and utter contentment.

  Despite all of his cynical protestations, his certainty that this would be like any other casual, short-term affair, making love with Skye had been well, "life-changing" was the only word for it. She was his. He knew as surely as he knew his own name. They belonged to each other, were made for each other, were fucking fated to be together. He hadn't believed it was possible, and now he couldn't believe anything else.

  The idea shook Marcus to his very core. Was this what his father had felt for his mother? If so, how could he possibly have been with other women, even after his mother died? Marcus couldn't imagine wanting anyone but Skye ever again. Even if she died--and that idea filled him with a whole new kind of panic--he couldn't fathom ever wanting someone else after what they had just shared. She was his. His. And he was hers.

  She stretched against him. The lacy scrap of fabric she wore over her glorious breasts rubbed against his chest. When she spoke, she sounded drunk with pleasure. "That was ... whoa."

  "Whoa," he agreed.

  "I'm still wearing my shoes," she said, as if realizing for the first time, and smiled when she kicked up her leopard-print boots.

  "I'll get them off. Eventually."

  "Ah, so I've earned a round two, then? I'm so glad. Once wouldn't have been enough."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, you know. You, me, this." She was tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertip. "I know it's temporary, but I intend to enjoy you as much as I can."

  "Temporary?"

  She shrugged. Though she was still curled into him, he could swear he felt her pulling away. "My boss would have my head if he knew I'd slept with someone I'm investigating. And you're great, obviously, but I think ... well, we're from different worlds. That won't work in the long term."

  "I could take you out of that world. You'd never have to take the El or go back to that shitty apartment."

  Now she did pull away. "That's my shitty apartment that you're talking about. And I happen to like taking the El."

  "That's crazy. Nobody likes the El."

  She huffed out a breath. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Our perspectives are so different."

  He couldn't puzzle out where he had gone wrong. "Are you saying that we shouldn't see each other again?"

  "Not necessarily. I certainly enjoyed ...." A blush rose over her cheeks. "I'm trying to be mature about this. You said temporary. I'm trying to tell you that I'm fine with that."

  With any other woman, he would have been glad to know that she accepted the limitations of the relationship. But this was his mate. He couldn't fathom ever letting her go.

  But he could tell just by looking at her that she wasn't ready to hear it. She was skittish, he could see that now. She was stubborn.

  And he was still unsure of his feelings. Maybe all this fated stuff was in his imagination. The sex had been good--fucking fantastic, he corrected himself--but maybe that was a fluke.

  Only one way to find out. He rose to his feet and, with a grunt, hoisted her up over his shoulder.

  "What are you doing?" she shrieked.

  "Time for round two."

  "Put me down. I'm too heavy! You'll throw out your back or something."

  He turned his head so he could kiss her ass. "Not likely, babe."

  He carried her into the elevator and hit the button for his fourth-floor bedroom suite. As the elevator rose, he let her slip down his body but kept her feet dangling off the floor.

  "This is ridiculous," she said. "I can walk, you know."

  "I like you right here," he said, nuzzling her breasts.

  Her sudden gasp told him that she didn't mind either. The elevator door dinged open and he strode forward, straight for his bed.

  "How big is this bed? It's like a lake. Where do you even find sheets for this thing?"

  "Too many questions," he said. She was wet and he was hard, so he skipped the preamble and slipped inside her.

  "Oh my God," she gasped.

  "Fuck, that feels so good," Marcus moaned, and buried his face in her neck. And it did. It was more than physical pleasure, more than the simple act of sex--it was the absolute certainty that they belonged together, and would be together forever. He was never letting her go.

  She was already grinding against him. He lifted her up just enough to release the catch on her bra, then let her breasts spill free. "Just look at these tits. So big, so soft."

  She moaned as he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. "I'm sorry, that was rude," he said. "You wanted to know about the sheets?"

  She licked her lips. "What ...." Her word ended on a groan as he stroked out of her, then in again.

  "I have to special order them," he said, slipping a hand between their bodies so he could stroke her clit.

  Her jaw clenched as she arched her back, and he could feel her pussy tremble as she came. "I love watching you come. But if you want, I'll show you the catalog where I found this particular set."

  She groaned and, surprising him, managed to flip their bodies so she was on top. She sank all the way onto his cock before she leaned down and took his mouth with hers.

  It was a kiss full of promise, full of passion. For most of his life, he'd scoffed at the idea of one woman who would be his until his dying day. But she was his match. His mate. As she broke the kiss to ride him, he knew he would never want anyone else.

  His need to claim her, to own her, couldn't be satisfied. He made love to her for hours, giving her every bit of pleasure until she swore she couldn't take any more. Then he made her take more.

  When she finally collapsed into sleep, he lay awake watching her. He wanted to spend every night for the rest of his life beside her. She would move in with him, of course. He was going to make sure she spent every moment of her life in luxury.

  He brushed her hair off her forehead, where a dark bruise still marred her dark skin. The idea that she had been attacked, that she had suffered, filled him with fury. She had brushed off the mugging as if it was just a consequence of living in the city, but Marcus wasn't about to let it go so easily. She would have a car. A driver, if she wanted it. A body-guard, if that's what it took. But he was going to keep her safe. He was going to keep her, period.

  #

  Dawn was breaking, and Marcus was considering waking her up to make love again. His need was endless, like a man starving. But then he heard the tinkling ring of his phone from downstairs, where he had left it in the pocket of his pants.

  Taking one last look at Skye, he headed down the stairs. His phone stopped ringing, then started again seconds later. Who would be trying so hard to get ahold of him on a Sunday morning?

  He didn't recognize the number, but h
e pressed the green button to answer anyway. "Marcus Sinclair."

  "Marcus. It's your father."

  The air left Marcus as if he'd been punched in the stomach. He hadn't heard from his father, Peter Sinclair, since the older man had left B3 in disgrace. Not that they had much to say to each other before his father's expulsion. "What do you want?"

  Peter exhaled sharply. "There's no cause for that tone."

  Marcus almost laughed. "You brought shame on the family, nearly ruined my business, and risked the privacy of all shifters everywhere, and you're lecturing me about tone?"

  "And you didn't stand by me when I needed you. You chose the damn Brotherhood over your father. You don't think there's shame in that?"

  Marcus began to dress in the clothes he'd discarded the night before. For some reason, he didn't want to have this conversation while he was nude. "I made my choices, Dad. And so did you. You chose booze and women over being my father."

  According to the rhythms of their typical argument--the one they'd been having for the last fifteen years--it was his father's turn to snap back, accusing Marcus of being too rigid. Then Marcus would bring up the many instances where Peter had embarrassed and disappointed him, culminating in the event that had gotten his father kicked out of B3. There would be yelling and cursing, and finally one of them would hang up in fury.

  Instead, Peter remained silent. Finally, Marcus asked, "Dad?"

  When his father spoke again, his voice was thick. "I'm sorry, Marcus. I didn't call you to fight. I wish it wasn't always like this between us."

  Marcus scoffed. "You've had plenty of opportunity to change that."

  "I know. I'm asking for one more chance."

  It was Marcus' turn to go silent. Finally, he said, "Why did you call?"

  "I want to talk to you about the piece of land you're buying."

  That was a surprise. "Why is everyone so interested in this goddamn deal?" he muttered.

  His father's reply was sharp. "Why? Has someone else been asking about it?"

  Marcus didn't want to talk about Skye with his father. His feelings were still too new. Instead, he said, "Why do you care?"