Boarlander Cursed Bear

by T. S. Joyce

  “I don’t want you to hate me,” she whispered.

  His chest heaved with his heavy breath. “We should just make out.”

  An accidental smile curved her lips—he was still trying for intimacy with her. “Okay. I’d like that.”

  Clinton was already pulling her toward the couch, and before they’d even settled onto the cushions, his lips were on her again. He brushed a wayward strand of her hair out of her face and angled the other way, pushing his tongue into her mouth. He was blanketing her with that strange sensation of déjà vu again. She loved this, feeling normal. Since Clinton had baggage of his own, he wouldn’t judge her past when she admitted everything to him. She was safe here. Safe with him. Safe to lose herself in his kiss.

  She never pushed him, always let him lead, and it would have to be like that until he gave her the signal he was ready for more. But as each minute passed, lost in their own little world, connecting in a way she’d never expected, she had to work harder and harder not to touch him or pull at his jeans.

  His hands were steady at first, resting on her waist, then on her ribs, her neck, the back of her hair, her ass. But he was circling, and when he finally slid his fingers up her ribs to her bra and cupped her gently, she rocked her hips. Too soon, she knew. It was just a primal reaction to a sexy, muscled-up, brash, burly, tatted up, pierced, secret sweetheart. His body was calling to hers, drawing her closer to him with every smooth movement of his lips against hers. Clinton pulled her over his lap, and they both froze. Alyssa relaxed her legs over him slowly, settling into the straddle, resting against his erection.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, ready to catapult back onto the couch.

  Clinton sighed a shaky breath, and then a slight smile took him. “I think I’m good. I just wanted to see.” He brushed her long black hair off her shoulder and asked, “Can I see you?”

  Heat shot into her cheeks, and the urge to run away was back. It was full daylight, and the cabin was well lit. But he’d exposed some very dark pieces of himself, and a part of her wanted him to see her, too.

  She nodded and unsnapped the back of her bra. Eyes focused on her chest, Clinton hooked a finger between her cups and pulled slowly until the covering slid off her arms. And then he inhaled deeply and relaxed against the back of the couch, hands linked behind his head and a look on his face that made her feel beautiful. It was one of those looks that she’d waited her whole life for. One that said she was everything he wanted and needed. Emboldened by his stark approval, she slid off his lap and straightened, then unsnapped her jeans and shimmied out of them. Fighting the urge to cover her breasts, she stood there for him to drink in, clad only in her black cotton panties and hoping with all her heart that he liked the way she looked as much as she adored the way he looked.

  “Come here,” he rumbled low, his eyes darkening to his human gray. He wore a proud smirk and held out his hand invitingly.

  Her face was raw from his beard, her legs were trembling, and her panties were soaking, but she was excited for whatever he was ready for. Her skin was flushed, on fire, ready to be ignited further by his touch. No intimacy had ever been like this—so easy and natural. She’d never felt so brave.

  “Can we try something else?” he asked as she slid her palm against his.

  She nodded, waiting for an uncertainty that never came.

  Clinton settled her onto the couch, her back against the arm rest. And ever so gently, he pulled her knees apart. He would see how wet she was now. Mortified, Alyssa closed her eyes, but was shocked when his lips pressed onto hers, and his weight pushed her into the cushion. For a moment, his hips settled into the cradle of her thighs.

  “Are you on birth control?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she rushed out, hope blooming in her chest.

  “I probably won’t…I might not be able to…”

  She smiled up at him and traced the tattoo across his collarbones. “It’s okay.”

  His arm locked on the couch beside her, he slid his other hand down the front of her panties and pushed his fingers through her wetness. “Oooooh,” he moaned, rolling his eyes closed.

  Clinton rested his forehead against hers and dipped his finger inside her. His hips rolled over her, and he pressed his lips to hers again. When he eased back, he said, “I feel okay.”

  “Me, too.”

  “No, I mean…feeling okay with you, doing this…it’s a really big deal. I don’t want to push, though. I want you to think back on this and touch yourself to it later. Not get scared away from me.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  Clinton pulled his hand from her panties, slid away from her, and unfastened his jeans. He relaxed onto the opposite side of the couch and gave her a wicked smile as he lowered his pants enough to unsheathe his massive dick. “Touch yourself.”

  “Me? To…myself?”

  “Tell me you haven’t for another man.”

  “Never.”

  “Good. Do it for me.” Clinton dragged a long stroke of his erection and flexed his hips as he let off a satisfied rumble deep in his chest.

  Stalling, Alyssa took a long drag of oxygen. This was something she did in the dark of her room, not in broad daylight in front of company. But it’s Clinton. It’s him.

  Clinton pulled at his long shaft again, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the motion. God, he was sexy, abs flexed, thick shaft swollen and ready, the head of his cock tipped with a drop of moisture already. She could do this for him. He was right there, doing it for her.

  Alyssa slipped her palm down the front of her panties and squeaked in embarrassment as she ran her finger along her folds. Clinton’s fiery eyes were glued to the movement there, his look so intense his nostrils flared as he pulled another stroke, matched her pace.

  “Wanna see,” he said gruffly.

  Okay. Be brave! Alyssa pushed her panties down her legs, then looked up at the ceiling to gather her courage before she relaxed her knees apart.

  “In,” Clinton begged.

  He was stroking himself faster now, harder, and for a moment, she imagined how fulfilling it would be to watch him come all over his chest. How fulfilling it would be to hear him cry out and grit his teeth, eyes on her as he finished. Revved up, she touched herself again, and now Clinton’s hips were jerking as he worked himself closer to release.

  She dipped her finger inside of herself, and Clinton whispered, “Fuck,” an instant before he was on her. He pulled her hand away and settled between her legs. “Is this okay?” he asked. “Are you okay? It’s not too fast?”

  He needed her spoken consent, and she got it. He’d been hurt. Abused, and he was determined to never make her feel helpless like he had.

  “I want you inside of me,” she said on a breath.

  Clinton’s lips crashed onto hers, and his teeth scraped against her bottom lip, just like the boy in her dreams had done to Shae. The sensation of familiarity was dizzying, but the second the head of his cock pushed into her, she lost her senses completely. It was just her and Clinton here together, and now he was looking right into her eyes, the panic gone from his face, and she knew she had him. All of him. Amber wasn’t in his head right now. Only her—Alyssa.

  Clinton’s triceps bulged, and his abs flexed as he rolled his hips and slid all the way into her, deep enough to fill her and touch her clit. “Clinton,” she whispered, arching her back.

  He wasn’t slow or methodical like some of his kisses had been. Clinton was gone, too, thrusting into her with pure power and determination. His arm snaked around her lower back, and he drew her closer. He wasn’t pulling all the way out, but staying deep, pumping his hips just right to hit her clit over and over, faster and faster. God, he felt so good inside of her.

  Orgasm crashed through her, and she was careful not to claw up his back like she wanted too, just in case that was a trigger for him. Clinton grunted and bucked into her faster, then froze and gritted out a long, sexy snarl as his dick throbbed inside of her. Pulses of
warm seed filled her as he thrust into her erratically, encouraging more of her own aftershocks.

  Clinton buried his face against her neck and murmured in a desperate voice, “I missed you. I missed you so bad.”

  And she got it. She’d been waiting her whole life for someone like him to come along, too. She’d missed out on every other moment like this with her exes because they weren’t special. They weren’t Clinton. They weren’t her match.

  And as he relaxed and slowed his pace, took his time drawing another orgasm from her, the words he’d chanted were so perfect. They felt so right.

  She laid a gentle kiss on his neck and whispered, “I missed you, too.”

  Chapter Nine

  The silence was beautiful as Clinton pulled his shirt on and smoothed it over his stomach. For the first time in as long as he could remember, his bear wasn’t snarling and ripping at him, begging to fight, begging to brawl. His mouth ticked up in another smile, and he reveled in how good that felt.

  Being with Shae wasn’t the anger fucking he’d done with Amber. There wasn’t hatred or fear, or wishing the drugs were out of his system so he could Change and protect himself from what was happening. With Shae, it was so natural. So good. He felt…happy.

  She hummed under her breath as she made biscuits and sausage gravy from scratch. He’d tried to help, but she’d waved him to the table and told him she wanted to cook for him.

  He loved her.

  That thought drew him up short and banished the smile from his lips. Loved her? What a terrifying thought. Love meant pain. Maybe not in the beginning, but love always ended up the same. Broken. Was he even capable of that emotion anymore? Maybe.

  He couldn’t believe what she’d done for him. She would never know the full extent, but he’d never made love before. He’d only fucked. And in her arms, he’d been safe. No one was watching, no one was judging, and Shae had worn that look in her eyes that said that deep down inside of her memories, he was still there. Her childhood love. The Clinton he wished he still was. The only place the unbroken side of him lived was in her mind, and there was something beautiful about that. He liked the thought of Shae protecting the boy he’d been.

  He should tell her who she was.

  Ticking a sound behind his teeth, he fought the urge to flip the table and hated himself just for thinking about telling her the truth. If she found out how royally she’d been lied to, by her parents, by him, she would leave and never come back. And now that wasn’t acceptable anymore. Not after what they’d done together. She didn’t know because she was human and didn’t have his animal instincts, but she’d bonded them better than Amber had ever managed. Or maybe he’d never broken the bond with Shae like he’d thought. Maybe the bond had been sitting in his shredded heart all these years, waiting to be strengthened by her healing touch again.

  My mate.

  Clinton pulled at the neck of his T-shirt to make it easier to breathe. She would need more time. He had to be a patient hunter if he was going to convince her to stay with a fuck-up like him. She’d fallen in love with the good Clinton all those years ago. She didn’t know him now. Would be disappointed in how far he’d fallen. In how weak he’d become. She would see him act out in an effort to keep his bear steady and would see the disappointment in the Boarlanders’ eyes. She would watch him spiral, because that’s what he did. And a woman like Shae wouldn’t put up with the shit he pulled. He had to figure out how to get better, fast. He had to show her he could be good again someday if only she would stay and push him in the right direction. If only she would stay and stitch his fucked-up, shattered heart back together one tattered piece at a time.

  She could banish Amber and all her poison from his mind if only Shae would stay here with him.

  He’d hated women for a while, and he hadn’t wanted them at the trailer parks where he’d lived. He’d bounced from crew to crew avoiding the couplings, and now, after a few days back in Shae’s presence, he wanted to draw up and face the world to keep her safe again. He wanted her close where he could protect her. Where he could adore her. Where he could see the smiles on her face and hope he’d caused them.

  “Can you meet my crew?” he asked, feeling like a jackass for what he was really asking. Shae still deserved better, but maybe someday, if he worked long enough, and hard enough, he could give her a happy life.

  “I met them yesterday,” she said in a happy tinkling voice. It was so strange comparing her to the girl she used to be. Shae had changed completely in some ways, but was utterly the same in others. It was fun peeling back her layers now.

  “I mean, I don’t want you to leave, so maybe could you meet with my alpha.”

  Shae pulled the pan of gravy from the burner and frowned over her shoulder at him. “For what?”

  Just say it you coward. “I don’t want you to go. I want you to meet with Harrison so I can ask him if you can stay in ten-ten.”

  “What’s ten-ten?”

  “An old singlewide trailer. It’s special, though. The mates have all stayed there. Bash swears it’s magic. Good luck and all that shit.”

  “The mates?”

  Oh, right. “The girlfriends and wives. They’re called mates.”

  “O-oh.” Shae blinked those big, gorgeous hazel eyes, then turned away from him, back to her work at the stove. He hadn’t missed it, though—the smile right before she’d hidden her face from him. “That would be okay. I can ask my boss for a few more days off.”

  “Okay.” But in a few days, he was going to ask her to stay a few more, and a few more after that, and then forever. For Shae, this would all be fast, but for him, he’d been hers since he was ten.

  “I should tell you something.”

  There was darkness in her voice and he wanted to kiss her, make her feel better. “Tell me anything.” I mean, goddamn, she absorbed your secrets and went straight to healing you. Shae could tell him she was a bucktoothed cannibal were-gopher, and it would only make him like her more.

  “I had an accident…”

  Oh shit, here it was, and now he felt like grit.

  “I was eighteen, and I got lost in the woods. Fell down some big ravine and hit my head. I was in a coma for a while, and when I woke up, I couldn’t remember anything from before. Nothing.” She cast him a quick glance over her shoulder, and that helpless expression drew him to her.

  Clinton approached her slowly, then slipped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder.

  “So, I had a really hard time after that. I didn’t remember my parents or any of my friends from before. I remembered how to read, talk and walk, and all of the things I needed to function, but everything else was just gone. Just…poof.”

  She laughed out the saddest sound, and it gutted Clinton. It had been his idea to lie, his idea for her parents to give her a new name and a new life far away from here, just in case the International Exchange of Shifter Studies reneged on their deal and came after her again. Hell, it had been his fault she’d been taken in the first place.

  “So anyway, I’ve had trouble holding down relationships because I just don’t have that much history. I have no memory of my childhood. I woke up at nineteen, three weeks after my birthday, and I was a blank slate.”

  “That’s okay with me.”

  “You say that now—”

  “I’ll say it always. It’s okay.”

  She blew out a shaky breath, and her shoulders relaxed. “I like the way you handled it.”

  Crap, was he too flippant? “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, most of the time when I admit that to someone, they don’t know what to say and get really uncomfortable, but you just, I don’t know. You just took it in stride and were okay with it. So, thanks for that.”

  Her cheeks swelled with a smile, and he nuzzled his beard against her neck, drawing a breathy giggle from her lips. The sound settled his snarling bear.

  Growing serious as she made two plates, he swore, “I won’t ever le
t you get lost in the woods again.”

  Shae didn’t know the full extent of his oath. She didn’t know that it was his declaration he would never let harm come to her again. He would never let IESS or IESA or this damned shifter rights vote hurt her. She’d been through enough.

  They both had.

  Chapter Ten

  “I was supposed to get a pedicure today and get a massage.”

  Clinton turned from where he was washing his hands in the en suite bathroom and offered her a horrified look. “Why would you want a stranger touching you?”

  “Well, I don’t. I’m setting it up for you to paint my nails and give me a back massage,” she teased.

  Clinton ran and leapt through the air, and Alyssa screamed as he landed on his hands and knees, straddling her on the bed. “I’ve never painted a nail in my life, but I would be fucking awesome at it. I’m awesome at everything.”

  “Cocky.”

  “I have a big cocky, too.”

  Alyssa groaned, but the sound turned to giggles as Clinton tickled her ribs. “Stop! I was comfortable!”

  “Are we spending the entire day in bed? I’ve never done that before.” Clinton was practically humming for some kind of action, and it was plain and clear to Alyssa he wasn’t the type of man to sit around. He got bored too easily. Clinton lifted off her in a perfect plank, his muscles bulging everywhere, tattoos on display, nipple bars looking so damn bitable. “Where is your nail polish?”

  “Really?”

  Clinton nodded. “Tell me quick before I change my mind.”

  “In that floral bag on the sink,” she rushed out. As he slid off the bed and sauntered into the bathroom, she told him, “I’ve never had a man paint my toes.”