Bedded by the Bear: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 6)

by Isadora Montrose

  Her mouth turned even further down. “Chad is bad news. But he’s very plausible.”

  “Plausible? Is that your way of saying he’s a lying jerk?”

  Her laugh was feeble, but it was a laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  He had a sudden desire to rearrange Three’s features. If that SOB had been preying on Zoë, he deserved a thumping. But Mitchell had grown beyond being a good old bear. Hadn’t he? He could be civilized. “What you’re saying is that you need a refuge from both the home folks and from Three, someplace close to Luck Harbor so you can stay in touch with the clan.”

  “Yeah. Aunt Ursula isn’t getting any younger.” She gave him a misty smile. “You still cut straight to the chase, Mitchell.”

  “Uh huh.” What else? Otherwise you wound up lying to yourself, which was just plain dumb.

  “You have any suggestions?” she asked wearily. “I was thinking of one of the little towns on the coast. Or maybe Seattle or Portland?”

  “What’s wrong with Olympia? I thought you owned your condo?”

  “Too easy for Chad to find me and try to be – plausible. I keep going around in circles. I just never thought to be in this situation.” She patted her tummy.

  Time to make his move. “Aunt Ursula has given me the family cabin on West Haven. Since you don’t have any other plans, I think you should come stay there with me. The fresh air will do you good. And by water, it’s no distance to Luck Harbor – or Olympia.”

  “And we tell the home folks what?” she asked wide-eyed.

  “The truth. We’re married and enjoying a prolonged honeymoon.”

  She gaped like a catfish. “Did you just ask me to marry you?”

  He thought for a bit. He looked around at the noisy room with its Formica tabletops, took in the greasy paper wrappers and litter of coffee cups and plastic lids in front of them. Shook his head. “Nah. A proposal needs a ring. Nice romantic speech. Someplace where there can be some righteous canoodling.”

  “Canoodling?”

  “Canoodling is hillbilly for making out.”

  Her eyes fell as her cheeks turned pink. “I see.” She spoke slowly. “You want us to pretend to be married.”

  “Nope. I want no part of lying to Aunt Ursula or anyone else. I want us to get married. Raise us some babies. I’m ready now that I’m out of the service. And you need to spike old Three’s guns. Send him running off to sniff out some other source of funds. Satisfy our families. Give your baby a name that he can be proud of.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t think Worth is a good name?”

  “I think Worth is a fine name, and you know it. But your family won’t like it much attached to your fatherless kid. And I think you’ll find Chadwick Ellery Trafford IV a bit of a mouthful.”

  “I wouldn’t.” She swallowed hard. “I mean I wouldn’t marry Chad.”

  He shrugged. “So you say.”

  She drank the last of her coffee and rolled it slowly over her tongue. The sight made him go hard. A good sign. Zoë was a cozy little armful all right. He admired her curves while she made up her mind.

  “I think this is a proposal of marriage,” she said after a long pause. She drank the last drops of coffee. “At least, I hope it is. Because my answer is ‘Yes’.”

  He had pretty much guessed it would be. What surprised him was how triumphant he felt.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Zoë~

  They had stopped twice more on the way back to Olympia. Mitchell had kept his big, black SUV a reassuring five car-lengths behind her hatchback, following her lead into rest stops. Not complaining at their slow progress.

  Zoë’s nerves had settled down when he had made no further reference to her promise to marry him. But now that they were standing in the minuscule entryway of her condo, her heart was doing the jitterbug.

  What had she agreed to? Hadn’t Mitchell answered her prayers for a temporary mate? Except he didn’t want theirs to be a sham marriage. She needed some space to think. Only several hours alone in her car with her thoughts hadn’t brought her any kind of clarity.

  Mitchell dropped his worn black duffel beside her little red rolling suitcase. He looked around interestedly. The living and dining rooms were on view from the doorway, and the kitchen overlooked them both. Her bedroom – the only one – was down the hall.

  “Cozy,” he said approvingly.

  “Thanks.” She had painted her home a soft and sunny gold to counteract the often sullen winter skies. And furnished it with pieces taken from her parents’ home. Cozy was what she had aimed for.

  He strode over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and looked out at her plant-filled balcony. “Are you sure you want to sell this place?”

  “No. I’m not sure what I want to do,” she admitted. And his big, broad-shouldered presence was at once comforting and distracting. Was he planning on sharing her bed tonight? Did she want him to? Probably. Certainly. Maybe.

  “Okay. Then don’t make a hasty decision. Do you have someone who can check on it while you’re out of town?”

  “I could ask the building manager.”

  “Why don’t you do that? As soon as you’ve sorted out the logistics, we’ll pick up my new cruiser and head to West Haven.”

  “Tonight?” she squeaked.

  “No.” He turned from the window. “Not tonight.” He came back to her side. “What’s bothering you, Zoë?”

  “Are you sure you want to marry me?” she blurted.

  He smiled slowly. “The idea is growing on me more and more. Why?”

  “What if you meet your fated mate?” she asked. What she meant was, ‘What if I meet mine’?

  That elusive dimple popped into his cheek again. His hands captured her shoulders and massaged them. “Do you really think we’re feeling all this heat because this is some sort of fleeting fancy?”

  She tried for honesty. “I don’t know.”

  “Only reason I didn’t make a move last night was that I knew you were pregnant,” he said.

  “I’m still pregnant.”

  He winced. “That didn’t come out right. Last night I didn’t know about Chad. Besides, the whole town was watching to see if I would follow you back to the motel.”

  “It might have been better if you had,” she acknowledged ruefully. “That way everyone will be less surprised when we announce our marriage.”

  “Love at first sight,” he said firmly. “It’s the bear way.”

  “A, we’ve known each other all my life. And B, I thought you didn’t want to lie to our families?”

  His hand moved down her arms to her elbows sending tingles to her heart. “I’ve loved you most of my life,” he assured her. He laughed at the shock on her face. “Not like that. Not when you were a kid. But you’re no kid now.”

  “No.” Her voice was hoarse. Time stood still as she waited for his mouth to descend.

  He kissed her like a man who had been deprived for long ages. Like he had been starving and she was a platter of his favorite foods. Like she was his one true mate. His tongue darted over her lips before slipping into her mouth and tasting every corner. Unlike last night’s kiss, this one was a claiming.

  Mitchell tasted of bear. A strong, unsubtle flavor compounded of testosterone and other masculine hormones. His hands moved to her back and kneaded her flesh as if he wanted to make them one flesh. Her breasts pressed into his chest. Her nipples were on fire.

  He lifted his head. His chest was heaving. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” She tugged him down the hall into her bedroom. It was her retreat. A serene blue and white bower.

  “Beautiful,” he said. But he was looking at her. She wasn’t beautiful. But he made her feel pretty.

  “Thank you.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt and hung it up in her closet. Did the same with his pants. She stood and watched him. Someone had told her once that a man looked foolish in his socks and underpants. They hadn’t watched Mitchell Reynolds
undress.

  His legs were long and dusted with dark curling hair. He pulled at the hem of his undershirt and hauled it over his head. Folded it neatly and put it on the chair next to his shoes. His chest was as furry as his legs and arms. He was such a bear. But his torso was marred with old, puckered scars.

  She moved to touch him. “You’ve been injured.”

  “Well, sure.”

  “Several times.”

  “Uh huh. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

  “Is that Marine humor?”

  His hands found her head and tipped it up for his kiss. “Uh huh.”

  His tongue tasted the corners of her mouth and then he nibbled his way to her earlobe and suckled it. She felt his fingers removing her earring. “Where should I put this?” he murmured as he took out the other one.

  “There’s a little box on my dresser.”

  He carefully placed her earrings in it and returned to her. His cock was fully erect and dripping. “Can I undress you?” he asked.

  Everything in her clenched at the sexy throb in his voice. “I’d like that.” Her heart stuttered. Guys didn’t undress you. They expected you to disrobe for them while they judged you with their eyes. “If you like.”

  “Oh, I like.” He kissed her mouth. Just a soft caress. Then his fingers peeled her T-shirt off. “Pretty.” His eyes admired her bra.

  “Thank you. I found it on sale.”

  He turned from the chair where he was putting her folded shirt. Smiled and licked his lips. Desire licked her with tongues of fire. “I had no idea. I thought they were homegrown.”

  She could feel her nipples tightening. “I meant my bra.” She knew she sounded prim and uptight, but this felt weird. Not wrong, but odd. After all her fantasies, finally she was getting naked with Mitchell.

  “You are even more beautiful than I thought,” he confided earnestly.

  “I’m not beautiful,” she blurted.

  “I don’t know who told you that. But I don’t want him in here with us. Understood?”

  Her arousal dipped. “Are you giving me orders?”

  His hands shaped her shoulders. He nodded. “I guess I am. I’m not much into threesomes. I don’t fricking share.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mitchell~

  Zoë’s delicious scent had acquired the acrid odor of fear. His harsh words had scared her. He took hold of her upper arms. Carefully. “I’m not going to apologize for being possessive,” he said. “I’m a bear. Comes with the fur. What about you? You cool with sharing?”

  Her eyes narrowed, then she shook her head. Her curls bounced. “I can’t change my past.”

  He let her go. “So long as it stays your past, I’m good.” He tried to explain. “I’ve not been any kind of angel myself. Only thing I can tell you is there’s never been any other she-bear. But now that you’re mine, my body belongs to you. Only you.”

  “I’ve never been with a bear either.”

  He winked at her. “You’re in for a treat, sweetheart.”

  She giggled. Relaxed. Her fragrance settled down to a hum of arousal. She looked at him with her big hazel eyes cloudy with passion.

  He stroked the side of her face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  She cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said a shade too loudly. “I think you’re beautiful too.”

  He laughed. “Didn’t know you were short-sighted,” he teased. “Honey, I have way too many scars to be any kind of pretty. But if you like what you see, that’s very good.” He fingered the band of her bra. “May I take this thing off?”

  “Please do.”

  He tasted her through the thin lace of her bra, being careful with his teeth. She might be real tender now that she was pregnant. And who knew how frail that scrap of lace was? Sturdy enough to hold her she-bear pair high and haughty. But better not to tear it.

  The catch was at the back. He eased the hooks out of the loops and let her bare tits spill into his palms. Tried to be gentle. His hands were rough and calloused. And it didn’t help that they were soaked in the blood of good men. She was really too delicate for a roughneck like him. But he had her, and he intended to keep her.

  “Tell me if I hurt you,” he told her.

  “Not so far.” Her voice was back to being sultry. Her fragrance was pure arousal. Well, okay. He had to be getting something right.

  He slid his hands around to her back, traced her spine all the way to her booty. Squeezed lightly and came around to the front to undo her waistband and release her zipper. He tugged the jeans down her thighs and steadied her as she stepped out of them. Kissed her bare thighs.

  The minuscule scrap of lace holding her thong in place was no barrier to his palms. He grasped two handfuls of soft, sweet, resilient ass and squeezed lightly. “Mine,” he said.

  She grabbed his ass in return. Her hands began kneading and fondling.

  “Yeah,” he breathed against her neck. “That’s the way.”

  Her nails scraped his skin, and then her fingertips soothed the little abrasions. Made it hard to concentrate on pleasing her, but he was up for the challenge. Up for lots of stuff. And then she was leaning into him and he was poking her soft and quivering belly with his battle-ready cock.

  He hoisted her up into his arms by her booty, partly so he could kiss her without fracturing his neck, and partly so he could carry her toward the bed. She wound her legs around his waist and gave as good as she was given. Her mouth was flatteringly eager.

  He wrenched the bedspread to the carpet with one hand, scattering blue and white throw pillows like confetti, and lowered her with the other. Climbed aboard, caging her with his body. “How does this thing come off?” He tugged at the band of her thong.

  She broke off kissing his chest to gasp. “The usual way.”

  The band snapped in his hand. “Sorry,” he grunted. He tossed the frail scrap of lace away.

  “Those were my lucky pair,” she protested huskily.

  “Don’t worry, this is your lucky day.” He set out to prove it. Kissing his way over the gentle mound of her tummy and dipping his tongue in her belly button. She squirmed in a most satisfactory manner and her pussy exploded with the most delicious smell in the world.

  Her hands grappled with his head but found precious little grip on the close-cropped hair. She clasped his ears as he found her honeypot and tasted her she-bear delights. The soft, plump folds stiffened under the lash of his tongue.

  In fact all of her stiffened as her arousal ramped up. She began to writhe and pant. Well, he was doing a little panting of his own. He sucked her clit and just like that she screamed. Not some thin and girly whimper but a loud unstoppable shriek.

  “Now?” he asked. His voice was guttural and primitive.

  Her answering, “Yeah,” was just as primal.

  He buried himself in her welcoming passage. Her legs wound around his waist again and her heels searched for the dimples on either side of his spine. He could feel every flex of the tiny muscles of her vagina as she squeezed and released in time with his thrusts.

  Something important was hovering just out of reach of his consciousness. But following the steps of this dance was imperative. He moved to a primal rhythm while the room filled with the scent of two hot and sweaty bears in the grip of lust.

  When she threw her head back and screamed for a second time, the fierce contractions of her pussy swept him away into a climax so intense he bellowed like a maddened bull.

  Her name rang in the steamy air. Her arms clasped him close. He pumped into her, remembered in the nick of time that she was just a little bit, and rolled sideways so as not to squash her.

  “Mine,” he growled into her neck.

  Her arms tightened and then released. He looked down. His bride was asleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mitchell~

  At first he thought Zoë had woken him. But the sound of the shower and the scent of soap informed him she had been gone for a good few minutes.
The knocking at the front door got louder. More aggressive.

  He wound the top sheet around his waist and padded down the hall to peer through the peephole. A man about his height but with the pampered appearance of a civilian stared impatiently at the door. He raised his arm to knock again as Mitchell yanked it open.

  “Yeah?” Mitchell growled.

  The dude looked soft. Dapper. He was dressed head to toe in the sort of smooth yet casual garments that whispered money. That jacket had cost a pretty penny and so had his shoes. His haircut had been nearly as expensive as his clothes. Those blond highlights wouldn’t have come cheap. And his green eyes were a little bright to be real. Probably wore tinted contacts.

  But undeniably, the sonuvabitch was movie-star handsome. Clean shaven. Clean cut. Too bad he reeked of self-importance and deceit. Every bear instinct went on full alert as Mitchell stared down at what had to be Zoë’s ex.

  “Where’s Zoë?” Three’s green eyes were wide as he took in Mitchell’s half-naked body. Maybe it was the scars. Or maybe it was news to him that men had hair on their chests. Whatever was going down, this dude still expected to have the upper hand.

  “Who’s asking?” Mitchell snapped.

  Behind him, Zoë said softly, “I think Chad is looking for me.”

  Mitchell turned to check if she was decent, and Trafford slipped into the condo.

  As the door automatically shut behind him, Three looked around with well-bred hauteur. “We were worried about you, Zoë,” he murmured reprovingly.

  “Who’s we?” she snapped, tugging her robe more tightly closed.

  “Your friends at work,” Trafford said with exaggerated patience. “The governor.”

  “Nothing to worry about,” she said airily. “I resigned. End of story.”

  Zoë’s white terry robe brushed her ankles, and was pulled closed right up to her neck, but her feet were bare and her wet hair indicated she was naked under it. Mitchell bit off a demand for her to get dressed. She smiled sweetly at up him, ignoring Trafford.

  “Zoë,” said Three impatiently, as if he had the right to her undivided attention. “Who is this man?”