Furever Mine: A BBW Werebear Romance (Furever Shifters Book 1)

by Iris Balfour

  “Where’s Georgette?” I demanded.

  McBride lowered his outstretched hand. “She is no longer with our firm.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  “Really, that’s a personnel matter. But I can tell you that she gave her resignation.”

  I moved a step closer to him, my bear straining to be unleashed. “Why did she leave?”

  McBride leaned away from me. “If you must know, her performance was lacking. We all agreed that she didn’t have the drive to succeed at Perkins McBride.”

  That wasn’t true. I’d spent a day with her. She was intelligent, knowledgeable, and competent.

  I remembered the CFO insulting her in the restaurant. “What did she refuse to do?”

  He reeled a moment before somewhat recovering. He managed a weak smile but wasn’t able to lose his pasty color. “I’ll have to refer you to our HR office.”

  “I’m asking you, McBride.” My bear was this close to ripping out his throat.

  “Fine, then,” he said petulantly. “It was Georgette’s job to get you on board. She failed. End of story.” He wagged a finger at me. “You want to blame someone for her leaving, blame yourself.”

  I turned on my heel. This human wasn’t worth another word.

  My Georgette. I felt the warm glow of pride. They’d pressured her to seduce me — that was clear now — and she’d refused. My mate had integrity. She didn’t belong at Perkins McBride.

  But their behavior wasn’t any reason for her to block me. My mate should know I didn’t want to just use her.

  Georgette

  I pawed through the papers scattered on my kitchen table. Where was the brochure for that event last June? I didn’t want to misspell the sponsor’s name on my resume.

  There it was. Knecht. God, I nearly used Knict. That would make me look really competent.

  The doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anything, but sometimes the delivery guys got mixed up. If it was the religious people, served them right if I answered the door in my rumpled T-shirt and ragged shorts.

  I opened the door a crack.

  It wasn’t a delivery guy or religious people.

  It was — I tamped down the sudden joy I felt — Bear.

  “May I come in?”

  Oh crap. I glanced over my shoulder. My bra from the last time I’d gone out was hanging over the couch. I’d kicked off my heels, too, and they were in the middle of the floor. I’d picked up the ice cream carton, but romance paperbacks and DVDs were stacked in erratic piles on the coffee table.

  “Please, Georgette.”

  So let him see my mess. I’d know then if he liked the real me. I opened the door wider and let him in.

  It wasn’t until he stepped through that I realized just how much of the real me he’d see. I wasn’t wearing a bra. Although my T-shirt was a triple X, it didn’t come close to hiding my jiggle.

  Casually — I hoped — holding my T-shirt out at the waist to conceal my breasts, I led him to the couch. Also casually I picked up the lap blanket and tossed it over my discarded bra. Not before he saw it, unfortunately, as the gleam in his eye showed. Then he sniffed the air, and I thought I would die of embarrassment. My apartment wasn’t that dirty, was it?

  I motioned him to sit, and after he sprawled on the couch, his long legs cramped by the coffee table, I perched beside him, my T-shirt still poofed out to hide my breasts.

  It felt strange to have him here in my apartment. I’d blocked his number, for crying out loud. How much bigger of a message could I give him?

  And yet, I was engulfed in a visceral happiness. He cared enough to find out where I lived. He wasn’t willing to let me go that easily. That sexy gorgeous man wanted me, even though I didn’t know why.

  “Georgette.” His tone was firm. “You wouldn’t accept my call or text.”

  I linked my hands and stared at them, avoiding his dark amber gaze. “No.”

  “Why?”

  He had a lot of nerve coming into my apartment like he was conducting the Inquisition. “You blew me off.” Raising my eyes, I glared at him. “Our very first sort-of-date, you make crazy talk about getting married. You say you’re going to call the next day but don’t. What else was I supposed to think?”

  He leaned forward. “I will never blow you off,” he said forcefully. “You are everything to me.”

  I laughed. It just slipped out. No rational person says something like that to a person they’ve seen a couple of times.

  I clapped my hand over my mouth, but it was too late.

  He wasn’t angry or offended. He looked — disappointed, as though I had failed him. And that made my heart plummet.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I just—” I waved my hands uselessly.

  The drama of the last few days caught up with me, and a few tears leaked from my eyes. The insults from Roland, Walt’s lack of support, quitting my job, the roller coaster of my feelings for this stranger — the ice cream I’d wallowed in had soothed me, but I was still feeling fragile.

  “Georgette…” He covered my hands with his. “Truly there was an emergency I personally had to handle. I came back as soon as I could.”

  The smooth tones of his voice rolled over me. As my resistance faded, my awareness of him grew. His presence on the couch beside me was palpable, greater than the mere touch of his hands. I had the sensation of giant arms hugging me close.

  I jerked away from him. “What is going on?” I demanded sharply. “Are you practicing some kind of mind fuckery on me?”

  He looked startled and sheepish. “No.” He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t— At least, not intentionally. Sometimes things have a way of taking over.”

  “Things? You mean your inner desires, or some crap like that?” His excuses twanged my bullshit detector. Gorgeous, sexy hunk of man or not, there was something not quite normal about him.

  “Some crap like that,” he admitted quietly.

  I stood. “You better go.”

  He didn’t protest, like I’d been half afraid he might. He got up and went to the door. “I’m sorry I alarmed you. I never want to frighten you.” His mouth quirked in a smile that made me want to throw myself into his arms. “It’s just — my heart says you’re the one. I’ll back off, but please give me a chance.”

  And the door closed behind him.

  I locked it, mostly to keep me from running after him. Now that he was gone and I had some breathing space, I could admit just how sexy that man was. It had taken all my self-control not to nod my head and agree with whatever he said, even before getting the weird compulsion to leap into his arms.

  And I’d wanted to. I’d never had a man that hot interested in me. I wanted to see what was under that shirt and if his cock was as good as the rest of him. But, but, but. I had other problems to straighten out first, like getting a job.

  I could keep my options open, though. I unblocked his number.

  Bear

  It hurt that Georgette didn’t trust me. It didn’t matter that I understood exactly why, and that she had good reason to be wary. She was my mate. I knew that the same way I knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west.

  She needed time, and I would give her as much as she needed. But I wasn’t going to give up on my mate.

  vii

  Georgette

  “We’ll call you.” The hiring manager walked me to the exit.

  The door closed firmly behind me.

  She wasn’t going to call. None of them were. It didn’t matter that I had a great track record at my last job. That is, I had one until I quit. I “lacked experience” or wasn’t the “most qualified candidate.” Those were the reasons they gave.

  But my gut told me something else was going on. I’d thought sure I had the last job. They’d been impressed with my résumé and walked me around the office where I’d be working.

  It had to be my references. Maybe it was foolish of me to give Walt’s number, but he was my last supervisor. I had though
t he was well-meaning if incompetent.

  I’d ask Becky to call as if she were an employer. No one at work knew her, so she’d be able to get the official response. And I’d contact some of the sponsors I’d worked with. They’d give me references, I hoped.

  I’d barely got in my car and belted in when my phone chimed with a text.

  — Lunch today?

  That man wasn’t going to give up, was he? So far I’d turned down his weekly invitations with a “no thanks.” He’d respond with a simple acknowledgment and leave me alone until the next week. For a crazy man, he showed a lot of restraint.

  To hell with it, I thought. I needed something fun to balance out the drudgery and frustration of my job search.

  — Yes.

  — Wear something casual. I’ll pick you up at 12:30.

  Not bossy much, was he? But, I admitted to myself, it was a relief to not have to do all the thinking. It had been a stressful three weeks.

  He showed up right on the dot wearing jeans and a faded polo shirt. He looked good in anything he wore, but somehow the casual attire brought out his rugged good looks.

  “Hello, Georgette.” His appreciative smile when he gave my capris and tee the once-over flustered me. Did he really think I looked that good? I grabbed my purse and followed him to the street.

  He opened the passenger door of his sports car and tucked me into the low seat before getting in himself. “Thank you for coming out with me.”

  “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Then you missed me?” He gave me a quick glance before pulling out into traffic.

  “Not exactly. I was thinking of the opposite, that the more you see me the less fond you’ll be.”

  He laughed. “Maybe.”

  That gave me a twinge. I’d gotten used to the idea of him being devoted to me, even if I wasn’t going to take him up on it. But I didn’t own him, and besides, he was crazy.

  Crazy seductive. Little touches as we walked side by side. Pauses while he waited for me to speak. His warm, steady gaze into my eyes.

  He took me to a little park I hadn’t been to before. He lugged an old-fashioned wicker picnic basket to a table under the gnarled limbs of a valley oak, then pulled out a gingham tablecloth.

  “Let me help,” I said, so he handed me the plates and utensils. He unpacked sandwiches, potato salad, and watermelon. For drinks, there was a selection of sparkling juices.

  “Watermelon!” I squeed.

  He grinned at me, just a bit cocky. “I knew you were a watermelon girl.”

  “And you’re a oatmeal boy.”

  “Yup.” He nodded. “How’d you know?”

  Where did I get that quiet certainty? We’d talked some about our likes and dislikes, but that didn’t account for my bone-deep sense of knowing him, like he was part of me, connected in some insubstantial but very real manner. But this was a crazy thought more fitting for someone who thought he was in instalove, not for practical me.

  Now, instalust? Definitely.

  I repacked the basket with our leftovers. He called me the watermelon girl, but he ate three-quarters of it. He packed away two sandwiches too. It must take a lot of food to power that gorgeous body of his.

  His body was dangerous territory. Now that my hunger for food had been sated, other appetites were rising. I quickly agreed when Bear suggested a walk. Moving around would take my mind away from wondering just how hard he was under his clothes.

  Well, it might have worked if he hadn’t taken my hand in his. When his hand wrapped around mine, an overwhelming sense of being safe and loved engulfed me. Pair that with his looks, and I was sunk.

  Somehow I managed to keep up my half of the conversation, but my full awareness was completely physical. The heat of his skin, the sun glinting on the highlights of his hair and beard, the way his muscles moved under his shirt and jeans, the faint man-smell, and the deep tones of his voice pulled me into a world of sensation.

  I wanted to touch more than his hand. I wanted to stroke every inch of his body, from his feet to his tawny head. I wanted to massage his calves, his thighs, his ass, his shoulders. I wanted to run my hands through his hair and beard, and down his chest. I wanted to take his cock in my hands and stroke it, and take it in my mouth and suck it—

  “Georgette,” he said softly.

  I came to myself. I was no longer walking side-by-side but had turned to face him. My hands — I blushed. Both my hands were resting on his chest. I quickly pulled them back to my side.

  “I like it when you touch me.”

  “I like it too,” I admitted. “But—” I glanced around. It was a small park, open to the street, frequented by retirees walking their dogs and young mothers pushing strollers. “Let’s go back to my place.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I was absolutely positive I wanted to fuck the living daylights out of him. Whether it was wise was a different question, and one I had no intention of answering now.

  I slipped my arm around his waist. “Yes.”

  He didn’t run any red lights, but he didn’t waste any time either. I felt his eagerness thrumming in time with mine. As soon as my front door was closed behind us, he crushed me against his hard chest.

  “Georgette,” he murmured between sprinkling hot kisses on my face and throat, his silky beard teasing me as it slid across my skin. Then he captured my mouth.

  I clung to him, suddenly dizzy as we breathed together. Kissing him was more intimate than any kiss I’d ever shared. With his kiss he was opening his whole self up to me, offering me everything he would ever have, and promising that he would always be mine.

  My eyes flew open, and I sank into the depths of his intense gaze. Even as his mouth made unspoken promises, his eyes vowed his undying love.

  Shakily, reluctantly, I pulled away. “Wow,” I said with a forced smile, trying to distance myself from my crazy imaginings. It was just a kiss, a very hot kiss, nothing more.

  His face changed, his eyes shadowing with disappointment.

  No, I wanted to shriek, I have nothing more to give! I don’t believe in love at first sight!

  His arms loosened, leaving me free to walk away if I wanted, if I could ignore his hands roaming over my back and waist and cupping my hips.

  My body responded to his touch. My nipples perked up, eager to be suckled. My pussy steamed with desire. I wanted him to take me and use me any way that pleased him. I just wasn’t ready to commit to a man I knew so little about.

  He played with one of my taut nipples. His touch burned through the layers of bra and tee like they weren’t there.

  “No strings,” I gasped.

  “No promises,” he growled.

  He scooped me up like I was a feather pillow and spread me on the couch. When I reached for him, he stilled my hands.

  “Don’t move. Just relax.”

  He slowly undressed me, pulling my tee over my head and tossing it aside. My capris and shoes followed.

  Leaning back, he devoured me with his eyes. Although he seemed satisfied with what he saw, I couldn’t help but suck in my belly.

  “My Georgette,” he murmured. His hands stroked the tenseness from my muscles. “You’re perfect just as you are.”

  He was absolutely full of the crazy talk, and I was starting to like it.

  Bear

  My mate lay quietly on the couch. Her trust in me made me feel warm inside. I wanted to never do anything to destroy it.

  I knelt in front of her and gently reached around to unhook her bra. When I pulled the tight contraption off her, her breasts spilled free, her nipples dark and swollen. She was so beautiful, so luscious, I wanted to lick her from head to toe. The longing to take her ran through my body, burning hot and fast as molten lava.

  I fought for restraint. My cock throbbed for her. I wanted to plunge into her sweet pussy and fuck her until she screamed she was mine.

  Calming my raging desire, I hefted one of her gorgeous tits. The weight was perfect in
my hands.

  She asked quietly, “Are you one of those people who have a fetish for fat women?”

  “I would love you even if you were skinny,” I said quickly.

  I would. She was my mate, inside and out. That she was cushiony and soft was simply a bonus.

  “Love,” she scoffed.

  “Love,” I repeated firmly. “My heart knew you at once. I hope you will love me too.”

  How could my mate not love me? But it had to be her choice, her schedule.

  Enough talk. I took her sweet nipple in my mouth. Her breath hitched. My own breaths were coming faster.

  I squished her breasts together and, burying my face in them, flicked one nipple and then the other. Her soft pants excited me.

  My jeans were strangling my cock. I shucked them and then ripped off my shirt. Georgette watched me, her eyes dark with desire. Her wanting made my cock even harder.

  I went back to her nipples, sucking them both while she made little noises. She smelled so sweet, her pussy fragrant with her need. I kissed my way down the pillowy flesh to her thatch of hair.

  Her bush was wild and untrimmed. I loved the naturalness, and that her sweet delights were hidden, waiting to be discovered — all mine.

  I stroked the damp curls away from her soft pink flesh. She mewed when my breath stirred a few loose strands. Carefully I pushed them out of the way.

  When I touched my tongue to her wet folds she shuddered. I shuddered with her, my cock aching from wanting her so badly. I dipped between her folds, learning her shape and taste. Her juices tasted wonderful, tangy and all her, and I went a little crazy lapping her. When she squirmed I held her down so she couldn’t move while I ate her.

  She moaned in soft bleats that were hard to ignore. But this was her time to be pleasured. My time would come soon enough.

  Her clit was hard beneath my seeking tongue. I sucked it, at the same time slipping two fingers inside her honey-sweet cunt. She was panting and bucking on my fingers, and I slid in a third finger. God, she was exciting. I was so close to coming just from the sweet sounds she was making.