“I need a shave,” he apologized. He had the beard natural to a bear. Two shaves a day had been his routine since puberty, but he hadn’t taken the time last night.
Zoë rubbed his chin with her fingertips. “Scratchy,” she murmured.
“I could go shave,” he offered.
“We’ll think of something that doesn’t involve your lips,” she said.
He kissed hers. Just a light buss that avoided rubbing his stubble against her soft skin. “Doesn’t leave much,” he protested. Although he didn’t truly want to stand in the icy lean-to and scrape bristles off his face.
“For a Marine, you lack imagination,” she chided.
“Sorry. What do you suggest, madam enchantress?”
“Improvisation is the soul of invention.” Her voice sounded sultry and a little amused. “Hold onto the end of this,” she ordered.
“What is it?”
“The sash off my bathrobe.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw her new fuzzy red robe with its long red sash. He wrapped one end around his palm. “Now what?”
She wriggled around on him, repeatedly bumping into his cock. Each time she gave him a murmured apology and a tender pat. The teasing little caresses made him even harder.
The other end of the sash fell across his face. Zoë settled back down with her butt elevated and just touching his cock. Something fuzzy brushed his shaft and balls.
“Have you got the other end?” she asked.
“Yup.” He tugged gently on both ends. She moved forward slightly.
“We’re looking for seesaw action here,” she instructed.
“Is this puppy between your legs?” he asked.
“It is. And if we get it right it will rub you every time it rubs me. No lips needed.”
“I like the sound of that.”
They adjusted themselves. Mitch began to tug the sash gently to and fro. Zoë reached behind her and positioned his cock so that the back and forth motion tickled first the shaft and then the head. And barely brushed his balls. The scent of her arousal floated up, spread by the movement of the cloth and by her growing excitement.
Her knees tightened on his waist. Her whole body was stiff now. Her fingers closed convulsively on his cock. He tugged once more and felt her release. It took all his self-control not to follow her into bliss. But he could be strong for his woman.
When her muscles relaxed, he lifted her. “Can you take me inside?”
“When my legs stop shaking.” But she was laughing delightedly.
He removed the sash and she eased her swollen pussy down over his stiff dick, taking it a fraction at a time. He didn’t hurry her. This slow torment felt too good. “Aren’t you going to move?” She gave him teasing permission.
“Try to stop me,” he groaned as he surged upward to meet her final slide down to his groin.
She rode him until he was writhing beneath her, bucking like a wild man. Her pussy clamped down on his cock and released it as she lifted herself and sank. This was a dance that they could both enjoy.
“Now,” she cried.
He let his release flood her. Grabbed her buttocks to haul her even closer and felt the stiff tips of her breasts poke into his chest as she fell forward onto his body. The pulsing of their mutual pleasure seemed almost visible in the thick darkness.
Almost at once, she fell asleep on him. It took a while to locate the comforter and cover them both, but he managed to complete his mission before he closed his eyes and followed his mate down into peace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Mitchell~
“Where does this doohickey go?” Howard cradled the tiny chrome part in his palm.
“Just where this line enters the heater.” Mitchell held the exterior cover steady, while Howard fed the flexible hose through the itty-bitty hole and screwed on the valve.
He and Howard had removed the flash heater from the bathroom wall and had taken it apart to install the all-essential valve, as there was no way to do the work in place.
“Had an intruder last night.” Howard was crouched over the heater, and his words were muffled.
“Hmm. What sort of an intruder?”
“Some kind of cat burglar by the looks of him.”
“A cat? What do you mean?” Mitch asked.
“Not a cat. A cat burglar. Dude was dressed head to toe in black.” Howard grunted and fiddled with his miniature wrench. “Sneaking through the trees.” He gave the valve a last tweak. “I take that back. Was making too much noise tripping over tree roots and such to be a sneak. He was more of a blunderer.”
“I take it you didn’t recognize him?”
“Nope. He wasn’t from around these parts. You bring trouble with you, Reynolds?”
“Maybe. Zoë’s ex keeps turning up.”
“Is he a trespasser?” demanded Howard.
“You bet your ass. What color was his hair?” Mitchell asked.
“Do I look to you like some goldanged judge of a metrosexual beauty pageant, Reynolds?”
“No, Stickney. I’d say you don’t.”
Howard snorted. “I didn’t get close enough to see if he used Nice ‘n Easy. I rattled my quills at the bastard and he took off running.” He chuckled. “Ran smack into a tree branch. Or maybe the tree ran into him, if you know what I mean?”
“The Old Ones don’t like trespassers.” Mitchell straightened. “I’d say this ought to work once we get it hooked up again. About that intruder.”
“What about him?”
“Zoë and I owe you.”
“Emily has a fancy for pizza,” Howard said promptly.
“Will frozen do?”
“As it happens, we have a nice little upright freezer.”
“I’ll remember that, Stickney.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Zoë~
She was in the back yard struggling with the bedroom rug, which was still draped over the clothesline where Emily Stickney had left it after yesterday’s housecleaning, when she heard a soft shuffling in the grass.
“Leave that,” said Emily crisply.
This morning, Zoë’s neighbor was wearing a red gingham blouse and denim skirt and her blonde hair was a neat pageboy. Her arms were full of something soft and bulky wrapped in what appeared to be an old sheet.
Zoë felt at a distinct disadvantage. She was wearing unwashed jeans and a shirt, intending to have her cold shower after she had hung out the wash and finished her chores.
“Hi,” she said lamely. “I can’t thank you enough for your help yesterday. Mitchell told me how hard you worked. I hope your vacuum is okay.”
“I couldn’t let you come home to that mess,” Emily said. “I had to take the vacuum apart and clean it, but it still seems to work just fine. Come on, open the door. I brought you something.”
Zoë obediently abandoned her attempt to control the damp rug and opened the back door. Emily trotted in.
“Have you made your bed?” she demanded.
“Not yet,” Zoë had to admit.
“We’ll do that first.” Emily trotted briskly to the bedroom door.
From outside came the sounds of Mitchell in conference with Howard Stickney. They went in together and Emily helped her to smooth the sheets and spread out the comforter. Then she unwrapped her bundle to reveal a mass of white lace.
“What do you think?” she demanded.
“What is it?” asked Zoë.
“My wedding dress. I’ll bet you don’t have anything to be married in.”
“I don’t.” Zoë bent over the fabric and gently picked it up. She shook it out carefully. The gown dropped into graceful folds. “It’s beautiful. But you can’t lend your wedding dress to a stranger.”
“Why not?” Emily patted her stomach. “Nothing to say I’ll ever have a daughter, much less one who wants to wear an outdated dress. And I certainly don’t plan to marry again. Go on, try it on.”
Zoë eyed the shorter woman. She was at least three inches taller than
Emily. “Will it fit?” she asked.
“I expect so. If not, we have plenty of time to do some alterations.”
“It would be a shame to spoil it,” Zoë said. She held the dress up to herself. The cap sleeves and gently scooped neckline were modest. But the skirt billowed out in a cloud of exquisitely patterned lace glittering with tiny crystals.
“I’ve never spoiled a garment in my life,” Emily said indignantly. She took the dress away and laid it on the bed. “Come on, we don’t have all day. Howard is going to help Mitchell install that valve in the hot water heater. And you have to go to Mystic Bay afterward.”
“Did you make it yourself?” Zoë asked.
“Of course. Designed it too. Let’s go, girl.”
The dress fell to mid-calf. Surprisingly the bodice fit perfectly, even over her newly expanded bustline. Emily zipped it up and then fastened the row of little buttons that covered the zipper.
“I’m long waisted,” Emily said. “And short legged. It balances out. Although on you the dress is only tea length.” She pinched some extra fabric at the waist. “It needs a nip here. Or perhaps a sash. Which would you favor?”
All Zoë could see in the blurry mirror over the dresser was the bodice. “Which do you think?” she asked Emily.
“I think a sash would be fussy, which is why it doesn’t have one. I’ll take in the waist half an inch instead.” Emily produced pins and made a line down Zoë’s waist. “There.”
“I don’t know how to thank you properly,” Zoë said. “I truly appreciate you lending me your wedding dress.”
“Stay on your side of the property line,” Emily replied prosaically, “And get me a new mop when you’re at the hardware store.”
“I’ll be glad to.” Zoë cleared her throat. “Mitchell and I are getting married on Saturday. Will you help us celebrate?”
Emily’s brown eyes were twinkling as she made a neat parcel of the wedding dress. “Howard and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Mitchell~
“What do you think?”
Zoë gazed at the roaring flash heater as if it were a diamond necklace. “Fabulous.” Her arms went around his waist. “What happened to Howard? I want to thank him.”
“He took his wife home.” He hugged her. “Happier now?”
She sighed. “I’ve been a real grump about the renos, haven’t I? Maybe Emily is right and taking bear makes everything better.” She sounded sad. “I’ll try to do better. I do appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The little fact that I’m pregnant and you’re marrying me.”
“Are you crying?”
She sniffed. “No.”
His chest was getting wet, so he figured that was a lie. He kissed the top of her head. “I want to marry you,” he assured her. He didn’t know what else to say. So he said it again.
“Believe me, I’m grateful. Even if I haven’t been acting like it.” Her cheek nuzzled against him.
“I don’t want gratitude,” he growled.
She didn’t respond directly. But she dried her eyes with her hands and tugged him out into the sitting room. “I invited your family to join us next Saturday. That being the first date the mayor has available to marry us. Or so Brad Lodge says.”
“You did? My family?”
“I did. Your mom says ‘Hi’ and that she’s happy for us. And that she was expecting to hear from you.”
He just bet Mom did. “Are they coming?” he asked.
“They are. Your mom is supposed to ask your brother and Grace. I’d better see if we can find somewhere to host a meal and maybe book them some rooms. You know, this would be a lot easier if we had a good internet connection.”
“I know. I tried to sign up with the local provider yesterday. Again. But I kept getting dropped,” he apologized. “I’ll try again today.”
“We’ll try in Mystic Bay,” she said.
“Sure. About the baby?” he tried to return to where they had left off.
“We’ll just have to hope for the best,” she said. “Now I’m going to take my shower and get ready to go into town.”
Which left him still wondering if anything had changed. And not having apologized for his share of yesterday’s fight.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Zoë~
They had decided that they could get twice as much done if they split up. Mitchell headed off to Ziegler’s Hardware for the special screws that were required to get the bathroom window installed, and had somehow been omitted from the new package.
Zoë suppressed her frustration with the continued delays, reminded herself to be grateful for her hot shower, and headed to Fairchild’s Art Supply. Her mission was twofold. First, she wanted to invite her new friend to the wedding. Second, she wanted to know where to hold it.
In Luck Harbor, she and Mitchell would have rented the community center and hired a caterer. Moira accepted her invitation, but disabused her of any idea of using the community center. In fact, she seemed amused at the very idea.
“There’s a big basketball game on Friday night,” she said. “And a bingo game on Saturday afternoon. You should make reservations at the Tidewater Inn instead. Mitchell’s people could stay there too.”
It was a good suggestion, and Zoë accepted Moira’s offer to call her aunt and make the arrangements. “How many people do you expect?” the fairy asked.
“With our new friends, around twenty.” Zoë rounded up. “And we’ll need three rooms. Or a room, plus a suite for Mitchell’s brother and his family.”
“Consider it done,” Moira said. “Have you given any thought to creating that online magazine?”
“I haven’t had a minute to think about anything,” protested Zoë. “And that reminds me, I’m supposed to be trying to arrange internet service while I’m in town.”
A small horde of customers interrupted their conference and Zoë went off to the Wheelhouse to meet Mitchell. “New haircut?” Lily grinned as she poured coffee. “I like it!”
“First hot shower in nearly two weeks!” Zoë said.
“Congratulations! Mitchell was just in here, but Anton dragged him away. Do you want to order now or wait for him?”
“I’m starving. I’ll have a turkey club and salad now, please.”
She logged onto the Wheelhouse’s Wi-Fi and set about trying to switch service providers. Predictably, making process was slow and involved several screens, all of which loaded at a snail’s pace. There was naturally no option to talk to a real live human being.
It took ages and still Mitchell hadn’t returned. She was munching her way through her sandwich, while still trying to maintain a connection strong enough to communicate with the internet provider, when someone took the chair across from hers.
She glanced up into the smirking face of Chadwick Ellery Trafford III. Her stomach clenched in protest. Just what she needed. Not.
“How are you?” he asked.
She felt a little pulse of the old attraction. Or a pulse of something. What the heck was he up to? She was so not in the mood for this. “I’m fine. What on earth are you doing here in Mystic Bay?” What she meant was ‘How the heck did you find me?’
Chad raised a long lean arm to summon Lily. The server’s eyebrows were shaking hands with her hairline, but she merely handed Chad a menu, asked if he wanted coffee and departed without speaking. Chad laid his unopened menu on the table.
Zoë took another bite of her sandwich. It tasted like sawdust now, but she was damned if she was going to let Chad see he had upset her. She chewed her small mouthful like a devotee of Fletcherism. Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three.
Chad could no longer tolerate the silence. “Are you ready to admit that Mitchell Reynolds can’t give you what you need?” he demanded softly. “We could have such a great life together.”
Zoë opened her eyes wide and kept chewing. She took a drink of water and m
anaged to swallow. The Wheelhouse water was not as good as Bear Lookout well water. She was becoming addicted to that stuff.
Energy whispered in the air. A vision of herself, dressed in a couture gown, presiding over an elegant political dinner party flashed before her eyes. She saw herself as the consort of the Washington State governor. Exercising the power behind the throne.
Ah. Chad was being plausible again. But whatever he was offering, she wanted no part of it. She blinked away the fantasy he was projecting.
“Whatever do you mean?” she kept her voice bland. “I thought Mitch explained that we’re getting married.”
“I’m willing to forgive and forget.” Chad’s voice was sincere. His face the picture of honesty. “I love you, Zoë. Say the word, and I’ll take you away from that dump up on the cliff.”
Mitchell’s hard uncompromising face floated before her. In comparison, Chad’s patrician features looked soft and weak. And his offer did not seem so much romantic as sketchy.
She vastly preferred her stubborn bear. Even if Mitchell didn’t love her as a bear should love his mate. Even if he had taken her to live in a shack and growled at her.
“Does he realize you’re pregnant?” Chad wasn’t even bothering to keep his voice low.
Chad probably didn’t know how small towns worked. Even though she didn’t recognize any of the people eating their lunches, she knew ears were flapping. Later there would be chatter of just the kind she feared. Gossip that would embarrass Mitchell.
“I fail to see how either my baby or my relationship with Mitchell is any of your business.” She took another bite of her sandwich and subjected it to the same determined mastication. Thirty-one, thirty-two.
“I could be persuaded to keep my mouth shut.” His voice was oddly persuasive. And he clearly thought she wouldn’t notice that he had switched tactics. What was up with that?
She had known for months that the little bastard wanted money far more than he wanted her. Out of nowhere, she felt an urge to write him a check. As if his blackmail would end with a single payment.
Lily arrived with the coffee pot and a mug. She poured Chad’s coffee and plunked a fistful of creamers on the table. “You need anything, Zoë?” she asked meaningfully.
Bedded by the Bear: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 6) Page 15