by Zoe Chant
“Just—” she struggled for words. “It must be hard for you—going so slow. Holding back. You don’t have to.”
His voice went darker. “I do have to. None of this would be good if it wasn’t good for you. Is it good?”
“So good,” she sighed. She was dimly aware that she sounded just as pleasure-drunk as she was, but it was all too much to be embarrassed. “Will you move?”
“Mmmm,” he agreed. The noise sounded like it came from deep in his chest, and she could hear the satisfaction in it.
Then he started to move, and Lillian again lost any ability to think.
It was still so slow, achingly slow, but the feeling of him sliding in and out, pressing against all the best spots inside her and increasing that pressure as he pushed in, left her shuddering with pleasure. He was big enough to get all the way inside her, right up to her cervix, which—Lillian knew that some women found that painful, but she never had.
Each time he came all the way inside and pressed against it, she spasmed around him, clenching hard—then relaxed as he withdrew, catching her breath. And then he pushed in again, and she cried out with how good it was.
He sped up slowly, incrementally, so that she didn’t even notice until his thrusts had started coming fast enough that she was riding a continuous wave of pleasure. She focused hazily on his face, and she could see that his hair was damp with sweat, and his face tight with pleasure, or effort.
Cal met her eyes, focused on her. His own eyes seemed to be all silver now, no trace of the darker iron gray she usually saw, and he looked at her like he was seeing the most beautiful thing in the world.
He kissed her, and she came for the second time. It broke over her like an enormous drenching wave, tossing her body around with its force; she clutched hard at Cal to anchor herself in the storm of pleasure. Her hips jerked hard, driving him as deep as he could go, and she moaned brokenly through it.
“God—Lillian—” Cal’s voice broke too, and as Lillian started to come back to herself, he drove hard into her one last time and came as well. She could feel the pulses deep inside her, and shuddered again.
It was a long, long time before either of them moved. Finally, Cal withdrew, breathing hard.
“Wow,” Lillian said finally, on a shaky exhale.
Cal laughed breathlessly. “Wow is right.” He’d rolled over on his back, and was staring at the ceiling, as though thinking some kind of deep thoughts. Lillian couldn’t imagine what they might be; her brain was completely wrung-out, and she felt like she might fall asleep at any moment.
In fact, the next few minute disappeared into a kind of fog, and the next thing she knew, Cal was there with a warm washcloth, giving them both a nice, shivery little sponge bath to get all the stickiness away. Lillian stretched out into the softness of the pillows as he disappeared again, and slipped away into sleep.
***
Cal watched Lillian softly breathing in her sleep, carried away on the wave of emotion that had descended on him when he’d first seen her naked and vulnerable, crossing her arms over her chest like she didn’t want anyone to look.
The wave still hadn’t crested. It just kept getting stronger and stronger. He’d thought he was at the peak when he’d tried to show her how gorgeous she was, how her luscious curves made him want to kiss her all over; when he’d made her come on his tongue; when he’d pushed inside her, so slowly, determined not to hurt her, and seen her go wild with pleasure.
When they’d come together, and he’d realized with a shattering epiphany that she was his mate.
Cal hadn’t ever thought he’d find his mate. He’d given up on the idea when he left his pack at eighteen to join the Marines. He’d known then that he was leaving shifter culture behind, and with it, the likelihood that he’d ever have even a slight chance to find a true mate.
Then, when he’d come to Glacier, he’d briefly wondered if his mate might be there. But when none of the shifter women in town had caught his eye at all, he’d given up on the idea entirely.
He’d never thought his mate might be human.
And he never could’ve dreamed up someone like Lillian. If he’d been thinking to himself, he probably would’ve imagined an outdoorswoman, a shifter, someone who’d patrol alongside him and work with him at the Park.
Someone who would fit right in with his life as it was.
Instead, here was Lillian. She’d gone to college. More than that, she was a librarian; she’d probably read more books in the last year than he’d even looked at in his life. She didn’t seem the outdoorsy type; too collected, too composed.
Gracious. Mannered, in kind of an old-fashioned way that Cal realized he liked. Watching her navigate social situations with that thoughtful competence was more attractive than he could’ve guessed.
And the way she’d looked around the cabin with a practiced eye, started suggesting changes before she’d cut herself off—
Well, what Cal had thought about saying, before he’d decided it was too forward, was that the place needed a woman’s touch. Because it did; he’d been thinking for years that he should ask a woman’s help with getting the place decorated, without ever managing to ask one.
Because, if he were honest with himself, he liked his home to be his own, and he didn’t want any strange people and their tastes intruding.
And yet, he’d invited Lillian to come stay without at second thought. He’d cooked her lunch and let her help clean up with him, and it had felt so natural that he hadn’t even remembered that he usually kept the place sacrosanct, never inviting anyone else over.
Now it made sense, though. Of course his mate felt like she belonged here. Of course he knew that this was her home, too.
Cal’s thoughts raced ahead before he could help himself. Lillian setting herself up as the woman of the house. Every room taking on touches of her taste. Seeing her presence in paintings on the walls or cushions on the chairs. Books stacked on end tables. Watching her move comfortably around the kitchen when it was her turn to cook. Arguing her into sitting down and resting her feet when it was his turn. Cooking together.
Even—maybe—having children someday.
Little snow leopard cubs.
That was an idea that he’d firmly cut off long ago. He’d known himself, he thought: a bachelor, childless, married to his job, destined to be the crusty old mentor to all the new young rangers coming into the Park. He’d settled comfortably into his role—he knew he acted older than he actually was, and he usually leaned into it.
It was a comfortable authority, a way of life he’d pulled around him like a worn-in old coat.
Taking the coat off, just to see what it might be like, felt strangely terrifying.
But...it could happen. It would depend on what Lillian wanted, of course. But maybe she wanted kids. He could picture that no-good ex-husband of hers so clearly in his mind: there was no way that asshole had wanted the extra responsibility of children. He was probably the type that thought kids would tie him down and keep him from achieving his dreams.
And maybe Lillian felt the same; maybe that was part of the reason they’d married in the first place. Cal had no way of knowing until he asked her.
But maybe she didn’t. And he could see it so easily: she’d be a great mother. Natural authority, absolutely immune to any type of kid-style manipulation, but kind and affectionate, ready with a hug or a time-out as needed. Ready to give Cal a piece of her mind if he did anything wrong. And faced with the complete foreign country that was babies, he’d need a safety net like that.
One day, Cal thought, with a careful deliberation, as though the idea might burst like a balloon if he hit it too hard, one day this cabin could hold a family.
Once they got through this mountain lion threat.
A fierce protectiveness roared through Cal at the thought. He could admit it, finally: he’d felt this from the moment a beautiful, brave woman had sat in his office and calmly explained that shifters were threatening and frighte
ning her, and that she was afraid for her own safety. He’d felt it when he’d gone to Hennessey’s cabin. He’d been feeling it all along.
He’d been locking it down, keeping his leopard muzzled, because it was inappropriate for the situation. And overall not likely to help Lillian much.
That last hadn’t changed. But now he understood.
Our mate is in danger, his leopard snarled. Our mate! Protect her!
It all made sense now. He’d wanted to take on all those mountain lions alone, back at that cabin. He’d been reckless to even confront them. And when Lillian had told him about her worthless ex, Cal had wanted to hunt him down and show him what real men thought of the sort of cowardice that led to the mistreatment of women.
It was all true. Cal would help any woman in this situation. But the depth of his rage and the fierceness of his leopard was all due to Lillian. It was because the beautiful, brave woman was his mate.
He reached out and gently traced his fingers down the side of Lillian’s face. Her hair had come out of its complicated-looking style and was falling in curly golden tendrils over the pillow. He caught one in his fingers; it was soft as silk.
Should he explain what had happened? He wanted to, deeply and desperately; he wanted her to understand that he was on her side—that the side was theirs, forever.
But she knew so little about shifters. Would the idea of mates scare her? Would it make her want to get away somewhere? That wasn’t safe for her right now.
Cal couldn’t risk her getting hurt. And he didn’t want to confront her with something so momentous when she couldn’t leave to think it over, not without putting herself in danger. On the other hand, he didn’t want to lie to her. He wasn’t sure what to do.
But he was sure of something: no one was hurting Lillian under his watch. Not ever.
He glanced at the clock. Late afternoon. Practical considerations started creeping in: maybe she’d want a snack or something when she woke up. He’d go down and see what he could rustle up.
***
Lillian woke up slowly, feeling suffused with the kind of well-being she’d forgotten was even possible on waking. Normally, she woke up tense and anxious, already anticipating what the first challenge of the day was going to be.
She stretched slowly, luxuriating in the way her limbs all radiated comfort. The bed was so soft...had she replaced her mattress or something?
Then she remembered where she was. Her eyes flew open.
Oh God, she’d slept with Cal Westland.
Teri’s boss. She’d slept with her sister’s boss. Whom she’d only known for twenty-four hours.
Lillian had never in her life slept with a man she’d just met. She’d thought that only desperate women did that, women who needed to fill some kind of emptiness in their lives and chose physical satisfaction because it was the easiest. She’d always thought it must be incredibly sad, to have sex with a stranger.
But last night hadn’t felt like sex with a stranger.
Lillian had certainly lost any inhibitions she might’ve had with a stranger. Oh God. She blushed fiery-hot at the memory of the noises she’d made, the absolute shamelessness of how she’d cried out for more.
She wasn’t like this. She’d never been like this. How could she have—and what must Cal think of her now? She knew men didn’t respect women who just fell into bed with them. What on Earth had she been thinking?
Lillian pushed the covers back, noting with mild horror all of the marks on her body. She had little bruises on her inner thighs from Cal’s mouth. And despite the cold light of—well, of later in the afternoon—putting good sense back into her, the sight still gave her a bit of a thrill.
She clamped down on that. It was time for damage control. She had to try and re-establish herself here. Make it clear that she really wasn’t the kind of woman to just throw herself at any man who fixed her lunch.
Not that she’d met many men who’d fixed her lunch. Lew might’ve made her a sandwich once or twice during their marriage, but that was it.
Focus. She grabbed her clothes, tugging them on despite the wrinkles, glad that at least she wasn’t...sticky.
That resurrected the memory of Cal and his warm washcloth, tenderly cleaning them both up so they’d be more comfortable napping for a bit. Lillian blushed harder.
At least Cal wasn’t the sort of man to insult her or say crude things because of this. She was certain of that. But—even though she had just met him the day before—she found that she couldn’t bear to lose his good opinion.
Which was silly, because he’d done the same thing she had, hadn’t he? Slept with a woman he’d just met. It was a double standard, clear as day. But that didn’t change the squirmy, shameful feeling that what she’d done was worse.
When she was dressed, she tentatively started down the stairs. Cal was moving around in the kitchen, she could hear him.
Oh God, what was she going to say?
She didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to hide upstairs all afternoon, either, so she kept going.
When she got to the bottom and saw him, rummaging in the refrigerator for something, she was struck by a bolt of desire so strong it startled her.
What on Earth was this? She was still—she blushed again—still a bit sore between her legs after what they’d done earlier. How could she want to climb him like a tree again?
He straightened, closing the fridge, and smiled at her. “Hi. Sleep well?”
Lillian nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
Cal studied her, his smile slowly fading. “Are you all right?”
Lillian was decidedly not all right. In fact, she was torn—on the one hand, still shamefully disbelieving at what she’d done earlier, and on the other hand, wanting to do it again right now.
And the latter half was slowly overwhelming the former. Lillian made a quick decision.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and felt a pang in her chest as his smile faded away entirely. She didn’t want to make him look like that—but this was important. “I think I need to go somewhere else for a bit.”
Cal stepped forward immediately. “It’s not safe,” he said. “If you’re regretting what we did, I promise it won’t happen again. You can go into the guest room and close the door; I swear to you I won’t even knock unless it’s an emergency. You don’t need to worry about me, Lillian.”
“I’m not worried about you,” Lillian said to him, which was at least true in the context she meant. She knew Cal was a good, honorable man, and would never do anything she didn’t want.
The problem was, she did want it. And what did that say about her? What did Cal think of her now?
She could ask him, but she was sure he would say something kind. And what she really needed was the chance to get away and sit somewhere by herself and work out what it meant that she’d done something like this.
“I just need to get away,” she said. “I’ll go to my sister’s for a little while. That’s safe enough, right?”
Guiltily, she remembered that she hadn’t wanted to bring Teri into this whole conflict in the first place. But she couldn’t stay here. Not with Cal right there, looking all...handsome and kind and thoughtful.
She couldn’t stand all of that right now. She just couldn’t.
Cal hesitated. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But your safety—”
“I’ll call Teri and tell her I’m coming,” Lillian interrupted. “You can watch me get into my car. I’ll drive straight there, and if I see any mountain lions, I’ll just hit the gas. Teri can call you when I get there to tell you I’m safe. Does that sound like a workable plan?”
Cal was quiet for a long minute. “I don’t like it,” he said finally.
“How likely do you think it is that I’ll be ambushed in a moving vehicle?” Lillian pointed out. “I’ll drive fast.”
Cal sighed. “Well, I’m not going to tell you that you can’t do it. Teri should be off work soon.”
“I’ll call her now.
”
Lillian found her purse on the couch, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed Teri, briefly said she’d been at Cal’s place but would be coming back to Teri’s very soon. Teri assured her that she was leaving work now and would be home before Lillian would, and that Zach would be there an hour or so after she would.
Lillian hung up and met Cal’s eyes. “All right? I’ll be safe.”
“All right,” Cal said reluctantly. “Listen, Lillian—if I’ve done something you didn’t like, please tell me. If I’ve made you uncomfortable in any way...”
Lillian shook her head immediately. “It’s not you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t leave,” he said simply.
Lillian nodded. “I understand. But I can’t—I can’t stay here right now.”
Cal nodded unhappily. He stayed where he was while Lillian collected her bag from the guest room, but followed her to the door, stopped her, and preceded her outside.
She could see him scanning the woods around the cabin, until finally he turned and nodded to her, and she walked down the drive and got into her car. He was still standing there by the doorway as she drove away.
She was struck then with a deep misgiving, a certainty that she was making a mistake.
It probably came from the knowledge that she was worrying Cal, she told herself. He was a good man, and concerned about her safety, and she probably should’ve stayed right there and let him protect her like he’d promised to.
But she couldn’t. Not with how her stomach thrilled when she saw him.
Not with the deep ache that was building in her chest as she thought about him.
Lillian let that thought come to the surface with a bleak realization. She hadn’t just slept with him because she thought he was attractive. There was some kind of deep feeling developing inside her. Not just desire, but—something more.
Did that make it better, or worse?
Because it meant that it was more than sleeping with a stranger. But it also meant that she wanted—
There was a man in the middle of the road.