KIKO (MC Bear Mates Book 3)

by Becca Fanning

  He snorted. “No way. Bears before bikes, babe.”

  Babe? She processed the word and then grinned, liking it. “I like this word, Kiko,” she told him, satisfaction lacing her words. “You maybe call me by that if you would like.”

  A chuckle escaped him. “Sure, there are plenty of words I will call you over time.”

  “Not nice ones?” she asked, scowling. “My mother used to call papa many things behind his back when she angered him.”

  Laughing hard, he managed to splutter, “No! That isn’t what I meant. I meant more like, you know, the regular stuff—darling, honey, sweetheart.” His tone deepened. “Love.”

  As these words were far more pleasing to her sensibilities than the ones she remembered her mama using, she nodded. “I like those ones too.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “You’re laughing at me,” she retorted, nudging him with a finger in his lower back. He let out a surprised yelp, and she demanded, “What’s so funny?”

  “You!” he said around a snicker. “I just like the way you see the world. That’s all.”

  He did? “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing, isn’t it? If you’re stuck with me.”

  “There’s no being stuck, babe.” This time, he rolled over fully, not just peering over his shoulder at her. When she was bang in the middle of his attention, he reached up and cupped her cheek, then whispered, “I would never let you go if I had a say in it, Mischa. It kills me when you leave the compound because I want to keep you safe, and I need to know you’re okay.” He sucked in a breath. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

  His possessiveness should have concerned her, but she couldn’t stress about it because in the last five days, he’d left the clubhouse on every single one of them—doing only God knew what. She hadn’t been able to breathe easily until he’d returned home, so she could well understand why he was scared for her.

  “Of course,” she told him softly, her tone reflecting the fact his confession hadn’t annoyed her.

  “I know you’re Ms. Independent—”

  She snorted at that. He’d been trying to buy her stuff, and she’d persisted in refusing.

  “—but,” he continued as though she hadn’t made a sound. “I would really appreciate it if you’d let me get you a phone. I won’t use it to check up on you. I won’t do anything to bug you with it. I’ll feel a whole helluva lot better if I know I can call you whenever I’m worried about you.”

  Considering the fact that it had been a long time since anyone had checked up on her, and his need should have irked her, it actually didn’t. How could it?

  He cared.

  She let the wonder of that sink through her a second then murmured again, “Of course.”

  Kiko released a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

  “It’s nothing,” she told him, meaning it. “If it makes you feel better, that is for the good. I know how I feel when you leave this place, and I don’t know when you’re coming back.” Or, more importantly, if he was coming back.

  Before the fear could settle in, he frowned at her. “I will always come back for you, Mischa. Always.”

  “You promise?”

  “I told you before. I do more than that. I swear my life on it. I would never leave you. I’d die first.”

  His oath was solemn, perhaps graver than required, but it soothed her as nothing else could.

  Kiko’s intensity was what consistently won her over. The very fact he could make such vows without having to have his arm pulled, that he made them and meant them, let her feel at ease about the depth of her feelings for him. If she was in over her head, then he was too.

  With their faces so close, she could feel his breath on her chin. He was staring into her eyes, giving her no quarter, not letting her pull away, but the truth was, she didn’t want to.

  She liked this closeness. It was a need that was steadily increasing with every passing day, a desire to be near him, to never be far.

  If she hadn’t experienced it herself, she would never have believed it. Despite all that had happened to her, she liked her independence. She liked to come and go as she wanted, even if coming and going involved being scared when men approached her. It was something she’d always managed to maintain, though she had to duck her shoulders to cloak the size of her breasts and duck behind her bangs to hide her face. She only allowed herself that luxury if she still went out and about.

  It should have irked her that she liked being close to him when she could, but it didn’t. Instead, it added to her sense of comfort.

  Being with Kiko was becoming as vital as oxygen.

  “I wish...” She closed her eyes, letting the thought trail off with a quick head shake.

  “What? What do you wish?” he asked, as always, eager to understand her even if she herself knew she made no sense.

  “I wish things were different.” She felt him stiffen up and sighed, knowing she’d hurt him without meaning to. Quickly, she amended her statement, “I wish I was different.”

  “Why? You’re perfect.”

  The way he said it made her smile because he meant it, every crazy word of it.

  To him, she was perfect.

  She, who had so many flaws and neuroses and crazy ticks that she would be a psychologist’s wet dream. It made no sense, and yet, it made perfect sense.

  Didn’t she accept him, warts and all?

  She knew he dealt drugs. She knew that he transported worse than that. There were arms in some of his ‘shipments’. The only thing he didn’t seem to deal in was human flesh—something Mars as Prez had put a stop to.

  He wasn’t the man her Baba would have wanted for her. In fact, if she even knew what she was looking to mate herself to, undoubtedly her grandmama would have told her to run like the hounds of hell were at her heels. And yet, she would be running away from the best thing that had ever happened to her.

  She knew that.

  And so, she adapted.

  This was a new world in so many ways for her. She had to embrace the differences rather than shun them.

  “Thank you for thinking I’m perfect,” she whispered eventually, looking deep into his creamy blue-green eyes. They swirled with emotion, feelings that were heartfelt and aimed utterly her way. “I just... I know I’m not. I want things from you, Kiko. So many things.” She sighed, feeling needs that were alien and yet familiar course through her. She knew what she wanted, but she expected no man to give it to her.

  Not even her mate.

  “Like what?” he asked gently. “Talk to me, Mischa. How can I understand if you don’t explain it to me?”

  She grimaced. “Some things aren’t all that easy to explain, Kiko!”

  “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge. My bear... He might get possessive, but I can control him. Where you’re concerned, he’s on hair trigger, but I’m stronger than I look.”

  That had her snorting. “You look ridiculously strong, so I don’t know how you think you look.”

  He jerked a shoulder. “That’s beside the point, and you know it. Come on, Mischa. Talk to me.”

  She gulped then ducked her gaze, because if she was going to share, she couldn’t do it while staring him square in the eye. “Sometimes, I get these feelings for you, Kiko. I know what they are, but I’m frightened of them. I know what they’ll represent to you, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” The confession had her shivering a little with the relief that came after revealing that to him.

  “What kind of feelings, Mischa? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  Her eyes popped open. She gawked at him a little in stunned surprise. How could he not know what she meant?

  Uncertain if he was just getting her to spell out the obvious, she studied him a little suspiciously at first. Then, realizing he just looked confused, she confessed once more. “I need you. My body craves yours. But my head is...” She bit her lip and looked up at him. “Do you understand what I mean?”

  He
looked a little stunned by her revelation. She wasn’t sure why. She’d seen him masturbating at least twice a day. He always tried to sneak it, but she knew what he was doing—at nighttime after he showered, in the morning before he brushed his teeth. It was like clockwork.

  She wasn’t sure how she knew.

  She thought it could have been something to do with the mate bond linking them, because she didn’t hear or see anything. There was no outside reason for her to be aware of what he was doing, but internally was a different matter entirely.

  She knew, knew, with every fiber of her being that he was touching himself. And when he brought himself to climax, she knew the exact moment. She felt it in her core and burned with a need of her own.

  She thought that was why these needs of hers were suddenly springing up when before, she’d always been able to ignore them, preferring to avoid them rather than handle them and the muss and fuss that came with having a man in her life—one who would have to know her past to understand the way she was.

  But with Kiko, there was no muss and certainly no fuss.

  He treated her with an ease that came of knowing someone for a hellishly long time. And Mischa? Mischa felt a peace with him that she had only known with a handful of people in her life—her grandparents and father.

  He cleared his throat, dragging her from the craziness of her thoughts, and asked, “You want me?”

  There was a dulled edge to his tone that had her frowning, but she nodded, needing to get it off her chest at last.

  Once she made that slight gesture, he let out a huge whoosh of air. His hand shot out, hovered over her belly, then shot back into his side. His fingers flared wide, as though he longed to touch her but knew that he had to act with caution, and she had to admit, she admired his control. He acted out of instinct then immediately remembered and sought to rectify his mistake.

  God, the man’s strength was astonishing.

  He was still a second then murmured, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to say those words?”

  Her top lip quirked up. “No, but I can guess. Sixty-three days and a few hours, right?”

  “Make that around eighteen hours. The minute I saw you, I knew what you were to me. I knew what we were to each other. And I knew, even though it nearly broke my fucking heart, that I couldn’t do anything about it. That I couldn’t act on it because you wouldn’t be interested in anything I had to offer you. Not at that point. I’ve spent each and every day terrified that you were going to run off like the other women, terrified that I was going to lose you before I even had you.” He blew out a shuddery breath. “I can tell you’re scared about wanting me. So, how should we go about helping you get to the next step?”

  She bit her lip and let her glance sweep over him. “I don’t know.” Even as she said the words, she knew what she wanted but didn’t dare ask.

  He reached for her hand, pressed her fingers firmly against his chest, “You can tell me, Mischa. You don’t have to worry about sharing anything with me.”

  Closing her eyes, she gulped and then admitted, “I’d like to touch you. Get used to you that way if in no other.”

  “I’m yours, Mischa. You can do what you want to me. If it helps you, it helps us. That’s all I want—for you to find a way to heal yourself... And we’ll do whatever we have to for that to happen.”

  “I was very lucky when fate matched me with you, wasn’t I?” she murmured softly, reaching up to cup his jaw. He tilted his head into her hand, nuzzling into her a little.

  “I was the lucky one. And it was fate. It was the Goddesses.”

  She cocked a brow. “The Goddesses?”

  “Yup, but that discussion can be for another time. Have your wicked way with me, Mischa. I’m all yours.”

  She bit her lip at that declaration, both terrified and turned on. It was the latter that won, beating the former into submission by a mile. He lay back, arms and legs akimbo, and what a sight he made. He took her fool breath away.

  He was toned and taut, lean and long, with muscles on top of muscles, which were topped with golden skin covered in ink. His chest was bare, but his arms were full of designs. There were at least two bears roaring and growling at one another, done with a finesse that was astonishing. They weren’t just ink but art. Real art. The bristling fur on each bear’s scruff was immaculately detailed, standing up just so, until it felt like she could feel the aggression darting between one another.

  He wore boxers which were currently tented. When he saw where she was looking, he shrugged, triggering a play of muscle that was perfectly choreographed and did the craziest things to her insides. Wow. This man was hers. What was that about?

  She shook her head at her own luck and then returned her attention where it needed to be. Him. Biting her lip, Mischa trailed a finger down the center line of his abs. His skin immediately goose-fleshed, and she peered up at him, entranced by the sight of his heavily lidded eyes, eyes which almost seemed to glow with the desire he felt for her.

  ‘’You really want me, don't you?’’ she half breathed, feeling a little incredulous at the wonder in his gaze. ‘’Even though...’’ Her voice trailed off, unwilling to discuss a memory that could ruin this moment.

  He curled up onto his forearms, making all those muscles move again. She had no idea that men actually looked like that in real life, so he transfixed her with his very unique and masculine beauty.

  ‘’Hey,’’ he told her, interrupting her gawking. ‘’That's in the past. What we are today, who we are today, is all that matters. The past is only on the table because it has the potential to hurt you today, which is why I want to do this. I want you to explore me. I want you to touch me and learn me. I want to do anything that makes you happy and comfortable, Mischa, that's all that counts to me.’’

  She couldn't help but sigh at that. Holy hell. Could this man be any more perfect?

  His very selflessness made her brave. She let her hand settle on his stomach, allowed her fingers to spread wide and then trailed them down the lean length of his torso. He was sculpted like Michelangelo’s finest, and again, that splendor was laying before her, supine, open to anything and everything she wanted to do to him.

  It beggared belief.

  He always wore boxers. Always. Ever since that first time she’d seen him jerking off in the bathroom, she had yet to see his dick again, but she always felt it. If they moved at night out of the positions they awoke in, her spooning him, she usually felt the nudge of his shaft against her thigh or her leg, sometimes the bottom of her back or her belly. Now, hidden beneath the cotton blend, was something she’d never really imagined wanting to explore again.

  That day, those men had taken more than just her innocence. They’d taken away the burgeoning desires a young woman had started to experience as a teenager. They’d robbed her of many years of innocent exploration. It seemed like Kiko was going to get the whole gamut of those lost years because she could feel excitement start to throb through her. Her heart beat in her ears, and her hand shook as she tugged at the waistband of his covering.

  Sucking in a deep breath of air, she dragged it down and over his hips, letting the fabric collect at his upper thighs. With that deep inhalation, she’d closed her eyes, but now, she opened them. What she saw had her swallowing down a moan.

  He was thick. He was big. And he was long.