by Sam Crescent
The first day of work was complete, and she was reviewing progress made versus the projected timeline, adjusting the plan for tomorrow. The den kept the access roads well-maintained, so they hadn’t needed to do much work there. Add Caleb’s clear and thorough marking of the trees, and they were ahead of where she’d expected to be on day one. Several dozen trees had already been felled, de-limbed, cut to length, and stacked. She’d need to have tractor trailers here sooner than expected to start hauling the wood away.
The storage space above the driving cab was outfitted with several screens, and she glanced up to them, trying to decide when to bring the trucks in. One screen showed a constant radar sweep, one was the local news (also for the weather) and one had the stock market, giving up-to-date lumber pricing.
In the back of the motorhome, the closet and the queen-sized bed were piled with boxes of gear. Hydraulic fluid, chainsaw blades, cleats, gloves, you name it, she had it. It was a long drive back to their actual office, and lost time meant lost money. Their company was the best for a reason. She’d tried to plan for every eventuality and they’d shelled out a lot of money to purchase a few motorhomes and equip them with satellite and everything else they added, but they’d paid for themselves in the long run with the increased productivity. Hers was the newest and most comfortable—she was the only one with a bed, but with no family to go home to in her tiny studio apartment, she sometimes crashed on-site. When the time had come to upgrade hers, she’d opted for an actual bed instead of the fold-down.
The sound of an all-terrain vehicle approaching caught her attention. She knew before his face appeared in the doorway that it would be Caleb.
“Come on in, Mr. Michonne. What can I help you with?” She didn’t miss the way he swallowed hard at her words.
“I thought I’d see how much you were able to get done today and was surprised to see a truck here and lights on. So I stopped to make sure everything was okay.” He looked around the inside of the motorhome and she saw his nostrils flare as he scented the air. “You shouldn’t be here by yourself so late.”
“Everything is fine, and the day went well. And I can take care of myself. But thank you, Mr. Michonne, for your concern.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’d feel better if you called me Caleb.”
“Which is why I won’t.”
“Excuse me?”
He clearly wasn’t used to not getting his way. Georgia sighed as she closed her laptop.
“I’m not here to make you feel better. I’m here to do a job. We don’t need to be friends for that to happen.”
A low growl rumbled from him, but he remained where he stood inside the door, leaning against the sink for the small kitchenette. She stood, squaring her shoulders. His eyes raked her body and she held her ground. She’d ditched her sweatshirt hours ago and had taken off the sports bra she wore over her regular bra when she’d changed from her dirty clothes into a pair of sweatpants and a simple tank top. With the sun down, the air would cool quickly, but she was plenty warm in the light clothing.
“I don’t care about the professionalism of it.” He took a step closer, arms crossed. In the narrow space, he didn’t have to go far to get to her. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.” Georgia was used to being the same height or, more often than not, taller than the men around her. To have this hulking bear looming over her gave her butterflies in the best of ways. Still, she refused to back down.
“That doesn’t matter. Testicles aren’t little balls of special that give you carte blanche to do whatever the fuck you want.”
Caleb took a deep breath. He wore a muscle shirt—of course, she thought. A tribal pattern tattoo covered his left shoulder, and his biceps flexed as he dropped his arms and caged her against the table behind her. His body pressed up against hers and she felt the rock-hard evidence of his erection between them.
“God damn it, Georgia,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
She took deep breaths, trying to steady her racing heart.
“Don’t call me that,” she whispered, eyes zeroed in on his lips.
“Stop me,” he replied. The bastard grinned at her. He fucking grinned. When he said nothing further and didn’t move, she lifted her eyes to his. They were a gorgeous light-brown, though at the moment they’d darkened considerably, either from lust or from the rise of his bear. Or probably a combination of both.
“Stop fighting it, Georgia,” he whispered.
“Shut up,” she breathed.
He quirked an eyebrow. Christ, he’s fucking sexy. Despite their positions, and how heavily muscled he was, she didn’t feel the slightest bit threatened. She noted the errant silver hairs dotting the black hair along his temples and dabbled throughout his neatly trimmed short beard. What could he possibly want with me? He’s easily ten years my senior. And why is he still single at his age? That probably says something. Amusement lines crinkled the corners of his eyes and he dipped his head, sniffing at her neck. Damned traitorous hormones.
“Is there a problem, Georgia?”
“I said shut up!” she roared, shoving him backward. He grabbed her by the waist as he went and they crashed against the sink, knocking empty water bottles from the counter to the floor.
“There you are,” he said softly, eyes filled with wonder. A large hand cupped her face, his calloused thumb stroking her cheek. Georgia’s head swam. She felt dizzy, her ears rang, and her skin burned beneath Caleb’s touch. She could see his lips moving but was incapable of processing the words. His head inched closer to hers, and their mouths collided.
Every reason why this was wrong fled from her brain. Georgia buried her hands in his thick hair and leaned into Caleb, plastering her body to his as her tongue delved into his mouth. With a groan, he slid a hand down her back and grabbed her ass, squeezing almost painfully tight. She hissed and bit his lower lip. He dropped his hand from her face and grabbed the other side of her ass, lifting her, and she wrapped herself around him. He took one long stride forward and with one arm swept the table clear. Her laptop and paperwork fell into a jumbled mess on the bench seating before he deposited her onto the surface.
Caleb leaned forward, forcing her down onto her back. Georgia rolled her hips, grinding against him, seeking relief from the need pulsing throughout her body. Warm hands made their way under her tank, kneading her breasts and teasing at her nipples through her bra.
“Caleb,” she exhaled, arching into the caress.
He kissed a path along her jaw and then worked his way down her stomach, pushing her tank up. She lifted her shoulders and pulled it off while he unhooked her bra. His beard tickled her, raising goosebumps on her heated flesh as he trailed his tongue around a nipple, teasing the stiff bud.
“So perfect,” he whispered, kissing her navel. She almost didn’t hear him, didn’t know if he’d even meant to say it aloud. His fingers toyed with the waistband of her pants and he lifted his head. The lust in his gaze made her breath catch.
“May I?”
It surprised her that he’d stopped to ask. She held his gaze, thinking about it. Maybe if they just got whatever this was out of their systems they’d be fine. Nobody would even need to know. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, one-and-done and be on their merry ways. After all, she’d never been with a shifter, but according to her brother, they had ridiculous stamina. There was a first time for everything, right?
Chapter Two
Caleb thought he’d die if Georgia said no. He held his breath, frozen in place, the scent of her arousal so close and yet so far away, driving him mad.
“Yes,” she said after what seemed like an eternity. He was unable to contain the growl that rumbled through him as he made quick work of her sweats and panties. When he’d caught sight of her without all that heavy clothing hiding her luscious curves, all logical thought had fled from him. It had been hard enough keeping his hands to himself this morning with all the crew around, but finding her here by herself, knowing that she reacted to
him as well, he lost the will to fight.
One leg at a time, he kissed her from her ankles to the apex of her thighs. They were gorgeous legs, so long and toned, strong legs that he wanted to wrap around him and squeeze him tight as she screamed his name. His cock hardened further at the thought, painfully constricted by his jeans. Georgia squirmed under his ministrations, the evidence of her need coating her folds and beckoning to him. Caleb dropped to his knees. He leaned in and inhaled deeply, rumbling his pleasure as her scent enveloped him.
“Please,” she gasped.
With a grin, he drove his tongue into her and then up to circle her clit. Her moan was nearly his undoing. He slipped one finger, and then another into her, working her, driving her higher. She draped her legs over his shoulders, pulling him closer, panting, whimpering as he held her at the edge.
“Damn it, Caleb!”
He hummed, sucking her clit and hooking his fingers, finding the magic bundle of nerves that sent her skyrocketing. She shrieked, her thighs clamping around his head as her hips lifted from the edge of the table.
Caleb worked her through the orgasm as her breathing returned to normal.
“Thought you weren’t going to call me that?” he smirked as he rose.
“Shut up.” Her grin took any anger out of the words. She sat up, reaching for him, tugging at his shirt. He covered her hands with his own, stilling her. She cocked her head to the side, brows twitching in confusion—and he thought he saw a twinge of hurt in her eyes.
“I don’t have anything with me. I hadn’t expected … this.”
Her eyes nearly glittered, and a decidedly wicked smile split her face.
“Then get on the table, cowboy.”
Caleb laughed as she stood before him, completely perfect in all her naked glory. She spun them around, and the back of his legs bumped the table. Georgia popped the button on his jeans, dragging her fingers along his shaft as she pulled down the zipper with torturous slowness.
“Commando?” There was an unasked question in her voice.
“Makes it easier for shifting. And saves money on clothing to replace when I have to shift without the benefit of undressing first.” The last word ended as a hiss when Georgia’s hand wrapped around him. She gave him a nudge, and he settled on the edge of the table.
“Down.” Her free hand was firm against his chest.
He fell back, and she worked his jeans down over his hips. In one swift move, Georgia’s mouth encased his cock, taking him deep. She worked her hand at the base of his cock as she sucked, pulling back to drag her teeth over the sensitive edge of his head. He grabbed onto the edges of the table, groaning as he fought for control, wanting this to last. She withdrew, licking and teasing along the slit, collecting the pre-cum escaping him.
“Get a hold on him,” she said, and he knew she referred to his bear. “If you fuck my place up, I’ll fuck you up.” Her hand squeezed. “And not in any way that you’d like.”
She didn’t wait for a response before resuming, tormenting him again with her teeth before pulling him even deeper into her mouth, flattening her tongue along the underside of his cock.
“Christ, Geor—” He couldn’t finish her name, couldn’t warn her as he exploded, his cum shooting down her throat. She took all he had to offer, maintaining the vacuum-like suction she had on him, drawing out his orgasm and milking every drop from him.
Caleb shuddered.
“Better now?”
Georgia stood and retrieved her clothing. In the blink of an eye, her demeanor changed. Gone was the warm, welcoming body. What was left was brusque, cold, and instantly doused any lingering hopes he might have had about getting her into his cabin tonight. Caleb sighed as he tucked himself back into his jeans. He’d seen a flickering of the bear he just knew must be hiding inside her, and he’d hoped the sudden, unplanned, and frenetic intimacy would help awaken her, trigger that call of the mate bond. Instead, she appeared to regret their actions.
“George,” he said softly. He intentionally used her preferred nickname, trying to put her at ease. She turned to face him, and the distance in her eyes nearly killed him. He swallowed hard. “Do I owe you an apology?” Fuck, did I completely misread the situation?
Her shoulders dropped.
“No, Caleb.” Georgia rubbed her face with her hands. “I agreed. I knew what I was doing.” Her eyes remained downcast. “That was very unlike me. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I … I don’t know what came over me. You’re a client. I’ll see if someone else can take over running this contract.”
Like hell, he thought.
“There is no need for that. On my mother’s grave, I swear to keep my distance. I apologize for any impropriety on my part. I did not think through my actions and how they might affect you.”
“Most guys don’t,” she snapped, the fire back in her eyes as she glared at him. “And you never get punished for it. I’m under a fucking microscope every minute of my life because I’ve got tits and a cunt instead of a dick. Everything I do is judged by others in this business. Every. Fucking. Thing. Do you know how hard it was to get some of these guys to listen to me? It has taken me years to build my crew. I will not let you ruin this for me.”
By the time she was finished, she was only inches from him. Her anger was beautiful to behold, and he knew she was the perfect mate for him. He needed her more than his next breath. But he wouldn’t push her again, for fear of driving her away for good.
“On my life, I will never touch you again without your permission.”
“Remember that vow.”
Georgia grabbed the sides of Caleb’s head and kissed him fiercely until they both were breathless. He groaned, rock-hard again despite the amazing blowjob she’d just given him.
“Now get the hell out of my trailer.”
****
Georgia remained rooted in place until she could no longer hear the drone of Caleb’s ATV. Finally, she took a deep breath and sat down, her entire body shaking from a combination of adrenaline, need, and some unknown feeling she couldn’t quite put her finger on. What just happened between them could not happen again. She was kicking herself for allowing it to happen in the first place. The fire Caleb ignited within her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced with previous lovers. But she needed to keep him off-limits, at least until the contract was completed. And even then, for a good amount of time afterward still, for appearances’ sake.
Christ, what is wrong with me? While the orgasm he’d given her had been phenomenal, the ache in her core hadn’t dissipated. If anything, her need grew with each tick of the clock. She wanted to feel that magnificent, huge cock of his inside her, filling her. A moan escaped her at the visual that thought conjured, and she slipped a hand inside her pants. It only took a few flicks of her fingers over her clit to bring herself off again, as wound up as she was. The relief was slight, but enough for now. This is not normal. What the fuck?
She locked up the motorhome and hurried to her truck, taking off at a decidedly unsafe speed.
****
The dream was the same one she’d been having off and on since puberty. In the beginning, she’d had it whenever she spent time with her birth mother’s family. As she’d grown older, it happened more when she was under extra stress, usually work-related and because of stupid ignorant men. It was the only time her dreams became lucid.
Her dream started the way it always did: she was running through the woods, searching, always searching, looking for someone or something, she didn’t know what. All she knew was a sense of urgency, a need to find this elusive thing, a feeling of being lost and incomplete.
Tonight, someone ran beside her.
She could hear the crashing, the heavy footfalls, could almost feel the body heat, but couldn’t see who it was.
Georgia spun, turning this way and that, and stopped suddenly, anything she could think of to try to catch a glimpse of who or what was next to her. Each time she did, she failed. It felt as though the be
ing was right behind her, part of her shadow, right on her heels every time she strayed from forward.
“Show yourself!” she screamed in frustration. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Her own voice echoed back at her. Anger drove her to slam her fist into a tree. It shattered into millions of tiny splinters, spraying outward in slow-motion.
An incessant buzzing began, ringing in her ears as if a swarm of mosquitoes had taken up residence inside her head. She clapped her hands over her ears, and the buzzing was accompanied by banging. Finally, she heard a voice through the din.
“Georgia Leah Connors! I swear to God I’m going to bust this door down if you don’t open it!”
Confused, she looked around for her brother. The forest disappeared, and she found herself on the floor of her bedroom, tangled in the sheet.
Now fully awake, Georgia blinked, dropping her hands. The buzzing was her doorbell. She craned her head to see the clock on the nightstand behind her and groaned. It was well past eight. No wonder he was here. Where the hell was her phone? She had an alarm set on that, though she never slept past six AM, even in the winter slow season.
Extricating herself from the sheet, she started down the stairs. She could hear her middle brother Sean clearly, on the phone, anxiety in his voice.
“Pete, she’s not answering. I’m gonna kick down the door in a second.” He resumed his pounding.
“You break my door and I break your face!” she yelled. While Peterson, the youngest of the three of them, was tiny, Sean was at least closer to Georgia’s build, and between logging and hours in the gym, he was plenty strong enough to kick the door in.
“What the fuck, George?” he bellowed.
“I’m coming,” she grumbled. Georgia opened the door and grabbed the phone from Sean’s hand. “Pete, I’m sorry. I don’t know where my phone is, my alarm didn’t—”