The Mane Squeeze

by Shelly Laurenston

  “Then you shouldn’t be hanging around me.” Gwen blinked. “Wait. That came out wrong.”

  “I’m bettin’ it didn’t.”

  Gwen’s mouth dropped open, shocked at the insult. And a little hurt.

  “Fine,” she finally said as the elevator doors creaked open. “I’ll go back to the hotel then. I don’t need this shit.” She turned away from him, figuring she could take the stairs back to the street. But Lock caught hold of her denim jacket and hauled her into the elevator. It wasn’t even a struggle for him. He simply caught hold of her and yanked her in like she was a bag of dirty laundry.

  Christ! What was she thinking getting involved with a guy this strong? He seemed nice enough, but what if he wasn’t? What if the whole shy, sweet bear thing was a sham and he was a dangerously unstable man-eater? Then what would she do?

  The doors opened on the first floor and Gwen tried to walk out, but he put that Thor’s Hammer he called an arm in front of her and pushed her back.

  “If you’re so mad at me, I don’t know why you’d want me around.”

  He didn’t answer her but pushed her out of the elevator when they got to the second floor. He walked behind her until they reached his apartment, his arm reaching around her to unlock the door, and he didn’t move until she went inside. She walked away from him and into his living room.

  Lock came in behind her and she gaped at the way he filled that large entryway.

  “Look, I’m not mad at you,” he said.

  He wasn’t? Holy shit! What about when he was? He would be eventually and then what? He’d snap her neck like a deer’s? Crush her tiny, insignificant head with his bare hands?

  “You’re not mad?”

  “No. I’m—” Snarling a little, he tore off his jacket and threw it at the couch. “I’m not used to people talking about my work. Looking at it. Knowing it’s mine.”

  “Because you never told them.”

  “Because they’d talk about it!”

  Oh, boy.

  “They love your work.”

  “They were probably being nice. But now that I’m gone and they can really analyze it—”

  Clearly he needed to face the harsh reality of his current situation, and Gwen was the kind of woman who’d give it to him. Besides, she was pretty sure she could make it to the window and out it before he ever got close to her.

  “I got you five for the chairs. One chair for May and another for the Russian nutbag.”

  He blinked in surprise. “Five? Really?” He gave a small smile. “Wow. That’s…that’s really nice. That’s a thousand bucks. That’s—”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “It’s ten thousand.”

  Lock’s entire body went rigid. “It’s…”

  “Ten thousand. Five grand apiece. And they’ve recently purchased the last building on their block, so the entire block is pretty much their territory. Anyway, they’ve already gutted part of it. Most will be more bedrooms, but they’ve started on a library for all their books. They had a guy who was going to design it for them, but they’re firing him and hiring you. We’re talking thousands of books that they have. I told them for that many shelves we’re looking at at least six figures for the design and the building. They said that was fine and they want cherry-wood or something equally dark and smooth.”

  Lock shook his head, took a step back, quickly gripping the archway with his hand to keep from falling back. Gwen was at his side in seconds, her arm around his waist and her free hand gripping his forearm.

  “Can’t breathe,” he said. “Not breathing.”

  “It’s okay. It’s a panic attack. Blayne gets ’em all the time.” She tugged him toward the couch and sat him down. She pressed his back down so his head was between his knees. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine.”

  He raised his head. “You don’t understand.”

  “I do.” She pressed him back down. Pulling off her jacket, she got on the couch behind him and pressed her chest against his back. She kneaded his neck with her fingers and kept him down with her weight. “This is what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it?” Because no one could do all that he had merely for a hobby. No way. “To create stuff with your hands, to make money from it. And now it’s going to happen.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Why? What’s holding you back?” Other than himself.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen now. I was supposed to do the software thing for the next few years until I saved up enough money to retire. Like when I was forty-five or fifty. And then I was going to move out of New York and maybe up to New Hampshire or Massachusetts, where I’d work on my stuff fulltime and at my discretion. No demands, no risks.”

  “Well, life has decided to speed up that little vision. And everything is a risk.”

  “But I had it all planned out.” He looked at her over his shoulder, an out-of-control fear in those big brown eyes. “It’s on paper.”

  No wonder people were fooled into thinking bears were these adorable, cuddly toys they could give food to and risk getting close to—because they were so damn cute!

  “Yeah. I get it. I was there.” She moved off his back and rested on her knees by his side, her arm around his shoulders. “I figured I’d be working for other guys and my Uncle Cally until I was about forty and then, if all went well and I’d built up a good enough name, I’d be able to open my own business. It was my goal, and it was miles off. And then here comes Blayne, tossing the opportunity of a lifetime into my lap. And I almost walked away from it. Because it meant leaving Philly and Ma and my family. Then it hit me…I couldn’t walk away. This was the right time for me, even if I didn’t want it to be. I’m not mated, no cubs, no mortgage. Nothing holding me back except my need to protect my mother from herself. I knew I had to take the chance. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.”

  “Is that why your brother is riding you so hard? About this?”

  Gwen blew out a breath. “Mitch has never taken me seriously. Not ever. So in his mind this is something cute and sweet between me and Blayne, but I need to get serious and go back to Philly and Ma. Until I do, he won’t be happy.”

  “Well, you’re not going back now.” Lock sat up and she was glad to see some color had returned to his face, and that it wasn’t the beet red it sometimes got when he was thoroughly embarrassed.

  “I’m not?”

  “If you go back, who’s going to haggle for me?” He relaxed back into the couch and gazed up at the ceiling. “And we’re not charging them five grand each for two rocking chairs.”

  “Rocking chairs created entirely by hand by the eminent local artist Lachlan MacRyrie.” His gaze shot over to hers and Gwen didn’t even flinch. “In three years’ time those chairs will be worth four times as much. They’re getting in early and should be damn glad they’re getting the chairs that cheap.”

  “Not five.”

  “Fine then. Four.”

  “Gwen—”

  “I’ll go as low as three, but that’s it. And if that Russian gives you a ton of crap she wants you to do, it goes back to five.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I’m not arguing this with you. And you’re going to let me handle the library estimates or that little wild dog will walk all over you.”

  Lock snorted. “Sabina?”

  “I’m talking about Jess and her weepy eyes.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You carried her around their house.”

  “It’s not like I wanted to, but I’m the only one who can get her up high enough so she can do her queenly wave.”

  Gwen gave Lock a sidelong glance, amazed she was becoming jealous over a pregnant, happily married wild dog. “That’s pathetic.”

  Lock’s heart began to slow down and he felt the panic pass. He hadn’t felt panic like that since he’d walked into the middle of his first firefight. And even then, he didn’t really have the luxury of panic since he�
��d been way too busy trying not to die.

  Yet all this would throw off his carefully timed plans. Should he take the risk and possibly lose all he’d built up so far, thereby setting his ultimate goal back several years? Or not take the risk and end up still doing work he barely tolerated well into his sixties because one excuse after another got in his way?

  One thing he did know, he didn’t need the answer tonight. He’d think about it tomorrow.

  Gwen checked her watch and winced. “I should get back to the hotel. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

  “You’re not staying?”

  “I better not.”

  Lock grabbed her hand even though she hadn’t moved away. “Don’t go. Stay.”

  “I don’t have a change of clothes or even fresh panties, and I can’t go to work without them. I just can’t.”

  Tugging her closer, Lock admitted, “I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay with me tonight. I want to wake up with you next to me. If I remember correctly, that’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do.”

  “Not all the time.”

  “We’re still in the honeymoon stage. Indulge me.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I promise we won’t stay up late.” He could tell she was weakening, barely putting up a fight. “And I’ll get you up early tomorrow so you can get changed before work.”

  He pulled her onto his lap, close to his chest with her knees on either side of his hips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face against her chest. “Stay with me, Gwenie.” He moved his lips across her collarbone. “Stay with me tonight.”

  Her arms slid around his neck, her hands buried deep into his hair. “I’ve got you so figured out,” she said, her voice soft.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. You.” She pulled back a bit and peered into his face. “You call me Gwenie when you want something and Mr. Mittens when you’re trying to tick me off.”

  Slipping his hands under her sweatshirt, he lifted it up and off. He nuzzled her bra and then used his mouth to undo the clasp holding the pieces of gray cotton together. “What can I say? I’m busted.”

  Gwen shuddered, smiled. “I knew it.”

  Lock used his nose to brush the bra cup off her breast and used his lips to tease her nipple. Her hands moved back into his hair and she pulled him closer against her. He suckled her and Gwen’s hips moved against him, soft whimpering sounds turning harsh as he toyed with her. Taking hold of her hands, he pulled them from his hair and to her sides. He then took hold of her bra straps and pushed them off her shoulders, down her arms. She moved her hands behind her and that’s where, instead of removing Gwen’s bra, Lock used it to bind her wrists behind her.

  She made a faint choking sound in her throat and arched her back, giving him complete access to her body. He took it, using his hands to roam every part of her chest, back, sides, and face while he let his mouth give her as much pleasure as she could handle. Gwen continued to rock into him, her moans and whimpers slowly turning into cries. He could do this all day if she let him, for days at a time. There was something about giving her pleasure that he couldn’t get enough of. He craved it like he craved honey and salmon.

  As he slid his hands behind her back, his fingers trailing up and down her spine, Gwen’s body began to shake, her thighs gripping him tighter and her head thrown back.

  “God…Lock…Christ…”

  With one hand braced against her back and the other gently pulling and twisting one nipple while he did the same to the other with his lips, he felt Gwen’s orgasm as her body desperately moved against him, heard it as she cried out his name.

  As the last of it slammed through her system, she sat up abruptly, both her hands free. He had a bad feeling about what happened to her bra. She gripped his jaw and kissed him with so much passion he knew he was only falling faster now. So fast he wouldn’t be able to stop if she changed her mind.

  Then, with her forehead braced against his and her sweet breath pelting against his mouth, she was tearing at his jeans.

  “I need to fuck you so bad.”

  He wouldn’t deny her even if he could. He raised his hips and she slid back enough to pull his jeans down far enough to release his cock. It was brutally hard and ready. So was he. While she struggled with her cargo pants, he pulled the condom out of his back pocket. He’d only just slipped it on when Gwen straddled his waist and dropped down on him.

  Lock’s eyes briefly closed as the heat of her pussy nearly seared him, the wetness only making him want her more. He’d gotten her like this, nothing else meant more to him than that.

  Her arms went around his neck and she growled with absolutely no pity, “My God, Jersey, I’m gonna fuck you so hard.”

  Good thing he’d had that condom in his pocket, because she might have taken him without it. Shocking, since there were some things Gwen didn’t fuck around about, and protection was at the top of that list.

  But Christ, there was something about him. She couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t like the kind of guys she’d ever been with before. You know…assholes. Guys who kept unlicensed guns under their pillows, always walked off the other way whenever they saw a cop coming, and thought grabbing her by the back of the head and trying to force her head into their lap was sexy.

  Lock wasn’t anyone’s bad boy, and there was a time Gwen thought that was the only kind of guy who could get her off. She was wrong. Really wrong. Because not only did the grizzly get her off, he kept her going. Kept her wanting more. And, even more important, he made her want to make sure he got as much pleasure as he gave to her. Even she’d admit she wasn’t a very “giving lover” and had been told so more than once. But why should she give when she didn’t think they deserved it?

  For the first time ever, though…she’d met someone who deserved it. Who might deserve everything.

  She moved her hips slowly at first, her gaze staying right on his because she couldn’t seem to get enough of that, either. The way he looked at her. Not like he thought she was just pretty, but like he…well, respected her or something. It was weird, she couldn’t explain it, but it turned her on more than if he treated her like the hottest European supermodel. Maybe because in this world looks only got you so far for so long, then they went on their merry way and all you were left with was what you had inside.

  And that was it, wasn’t it? Lock looked at her as if he could see exactly what she had inside—and he liked it.

  Realizing that, knowing it was true, Gwen got turned on more and she tightened her muscles until Lock’s eyes crossed.

  His hands gripped her waist and he said her name. A few times.

  She rode him harder, faster. She wanted to see his face when he came, see the pleasure she brought him. She was thinking so much about him, watching him so close that it wasn’t until she came—the strength of it tearing up her back and causing her to scream out—that she realized she’d been that close to coming.

  As he watched her go over, he gripped her hips tight and brought her down hard once, twice. He exploded inside her, his entire body one rigid line of muscle. Gwen instinctively gripped his cock again, squeezing him dry until he fell back against the couch, gasping for breath. She dropped on top of him, working hard to get her own breath back when those big arms wrapped around her and held her close.

  “So…you’ll stay the night?” he asked after a few minutes.

  And if Gwen weren’t completely wiped out, she would have laughed. “Yeah,” she sighed against his neck. “I’ll stay the night.”

  She’d never found watching other people have sex very interesting, but tonight it was part of the job. Part of what she had to do to get what she needed.

  Truth be told, she had the equipment to drill a precision hole in the back of this idiot’s head and was tempted to do it. Right here, right now. But she was older now and she’d like to think she was smarter, too. She’d discovered that getting information was more important than instant gratification. Unfortunately, get
ting information required waiting, which she could tolerate, and watching, which was beginning to make her ill.

  She’d do it, though, because it was her job now. Maybe. She was still making up her mind. And it was a nice night anyway. A beautiful night.

  CHAPTER 22

  Lock was still arguing with Gwen at his front door. “Let me take you home.”

  “I’ll catch a cab.”

  Leaning against the door frame, Lock gripped her denim jacket by the lapels and tugged her closer until she was flush against him. “It’s polite to see a woman to her door—and then make out with her.”

  “Yeah, exactly. I have a job today, so I can’t afford to let you get me confused and horny when I’m dealing with a sewer line.”

  “Eew.”

  “Wuss,” she teased. “Besides, not all of us are artists.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “You’re so friggin’ cute when you blush.”

  She went up on her toes and Lock came down so she could kiss him. “I’ll call you later today. Okay?”

  “Yeah. But remember what we talked about…be careful.”

  “I always am.”

  Lock watched her walk down the hallway and disappear into the elevator. He wished he could have taken her home, but she was right. He would have been forced to try out that Kingston Arms bed, and she’d have lost a whole day of work. The last thing he ever wanted to do was get in Gwen’s way, but he also wanted to make sure she built time in for him.

  He closed the front door and walked into his living room, retrieving the jacket he’d thrown at his couch the night before so he could hang it up. His phone went off and he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the text message from Sabina.

  WHEN WILL I GET MY CHAIR, JERSEY BEAR?

  DON’T MAKE ME WAIT.

  How long exactly before she got on his nerves? She was always pushy, always demanding the software jobs sooner than they were contracted for. But this wasn’t some software job and he sure as hell wouldn’t let her bully him when it came to his…Oh, God.