CHAPTER SIXTEEN
He stood up and stretched, conscious that he was showing his mate how broad and deep his chest was. Which was so unlike him as to make him wonder if there was something in the air of Yakima Ridge that was addling his brain.
His forearms looked even hairier than they had when he first rolled up his shirt sleeves. Which was impossible. Wasn’t it? This bear shifter stuff was either stronger here in Washington State or his long spell in bear had done something to him.
Heather licked her lips. They were rosy and swollen as if he had already been kissing them. They had spent the last half hour talking, but he still wasn’t sure what they had decided about his original question. Which was not like him at all. He didn’t usually let himself wander from the point.
Was she going to share her bed with him tonight?
In the lamplight, her eyes were big and the pupils dilated. Not just from the dim lighting. He suspected his own were equally large. He held out a hand to her. She put hers into it so hesitantly his heart squeezed.
He would have to be careful with her. Heather was not just young and inexperienced. She had had a lot of awful things happen to her in her short life. And it would be to his further discredit if marrying Patrick Bascom was just another in the series of hard knocks that life had dealt her.
“Should I sleep in the bedroom?” he asked.
“Husbands and wives sleep in the same bed.”
He decided not to laugh at her prim rationalization. “I’d like that.” He kissed her. Gently. Just a pledge. Not an invitation to tussle. “Let’s lock up.”
“I’d sure like to brush my teeth first,” she said and clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Me too. I’ll go get us a couple of green twigs.” He grabbed a knife from a drawer and went out, testing it with his thumb. It was sharp.
Even this far from the river, it didn’t take long to find a willow tree. He brought twigs into the cabin and set about pounding the ends.
She stood at his elbow and watched. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“It’s a basic survival skill. Doesn’t taste too bad once you get used to it. And it works better if there some bicarbonate of soda to dip the twigs into.”
“I think there’s a plastic box somewhere.” She began to open and close the cupboard doors and returned with a small canister. “I wonder if it’s gone all hard.” It hadn’t.
“Do we have saucers?”
“Little bowls.” She put two on the counter.
“Now we just need some of your boiled water.”
“Oh, my goodness. I clean forgot. I don’t know how long this has been boiling.”
He peered into the pot. “Long enough – it’s down about an inch.”
“We’ll leave it to cool overnight.” She turned off the burner and poured a half an inch of water from the jug into two tumblers.
He wondered if she felt the same intimacy he did standing beside the kitchen sink scrubbing his teeth with his twig and the baking soda.
“I didn’t like that much.” she ran her tongue over her teeth. “But it’s better than dirty teeth.”
“If you deal with the generator I’ll make sure the door and the windows are latched.”
She was under the covers when he came out of the lean-to carrying the lantern. Her eyes were mysterious and bigger than ever. She watched him out of the corners as he took his clothes off. He had undressed before a lot of women, but her shy curiosity, which should have made him feel self-conscious about his hairy body, instead made him feel like a stud. Go figure. He lifted the blanket and got underneath. She was all pink and white curves. And her belly was swollen with his children.
* * *
Patrick smacked the top of the lantern and plunged the room into darkness. She was grateful. Her eyes adapted easily to the faint moonlight coming in the curtainless windows. As his would. That was just part of being bears.
One big calloused hand stroked her belly. “Do you mind?” His voice was gentle.
“No.”
“Are they moving yet?”
Should she tell him? “I think so. But the obstetrician said it was too soon.”
He grunted softly. His hand stroked in a big circle all around where her abdomen bulged. A big finger dabbled delicately in her navel. “What does it feel like?”
She answered him by tapping delicately on the back of his hand with a fingertip. “Actually, sometimes it feels like bubbles rising. Plop. Plop. Plop.”
“All the time?”
“More and more. Dr. Newcombe said it was gas.”
“Does that doctor know there are three of them?”
“I don’t know that there are three. Jenna says at least two. But we’re waiting another week for the ultrasound.” She tried to explain rationally, even though the feel of his big hands stroking her was making her think about everything but babies.
He disappeared under the covers. His mouth traced warm kisses were his hands had been. It tickled and she giggled. He pulled away just as she was getting into it. “Don’t stop,” she protested.
His fingers replaced his mouth anyway. He spoke against the side of her head. “I don’t want to mark you. And I haven’t shaved in two days.” He picked up her hand and rubbed it over his chin.
She rubbed the bristles and found the dent in his chin. Her little finger just fit inside the deep dimple.
“See,” he said. “You’ll have beard rash in no time at all.” His fingers made circles and curlicues on her naked belly.
Her thighs fell apart. “I don’t think I’m that delicate,” she managed.
“Yes, you are. You are covered all over in soft girl skin. Every bit. And I have it on good authority that my unshaven face will scrape it up like sandpaper.”
“Woman skin,” she corrected him.
“I only meant female as opposed to coarse, hairy male skin. And I think it’s even softer now that you’re pregnant.” He stroked even more softly. “Much softer.”
“Is that even a thing?”
“Of course it is. Your hair is thicker. Not just on your head.” His voice was sly. His fingers just flirted with the edge of her muff. It was thicker and curlier. And longer. And lusher. His growl disturbed her thoughts. “May I?”
She pushed his hand down over her mound. His fingers played with her curls while his thumb traced the edges of her bush down onto her thighs. Her moan was very loud in the cabin. One finger twirled where hair covered her clit and traced it as gently as he traced her belly. She moaned even louder.
He whispered in her ear, “I think you should be on top this time. Keep my weight off your belly.”
Being on top sounded good. But she wasn’t anywhere ready for that. Not yet. “Maybe later.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t mean we should stop playing. I just want you where I can’t hurt you.”
What did he mean? “Hurt me how?” She certainly hoped he wasn’t going to turn out to be a fan of rough play. Because she wasn’t going to stand for any sort of meanness.
He scooched around and lay down beside her and stretched out his legs and turned her to face him on her side. He picked up her hand and wound his fingers through hers. “If you get over me on all fours, I can reach all your bits without putting any pressure on the babies, and without scouring your skin with a Brillo pad.”
“What Brillo pad?” The words were out before she realized he had to be referring to his chest hair.
For answer he rubbed her fingers through his pelt. She dug her fingers in and felt the muscle below. There were great slabs of heavy muscle all over his pecs and right down onto his abs. Sexy.
She could feel those enticing muscles that made a V that pointed to his dick. Just like the model on some hot romance novel. But unlike them he was furry all over, like a bear. Like a man. His curling hair was coarser than her own. But it was no steel wool scourer. “Only boys are hairless.”
His laugh was bitter. “All the same you better straddle me. I don’t want you rubbed raw.”
Well, he probably had more experience than she did. And it didn’t sound like he wanted to do anything weird. She fumbled around under the covers until she was on her hands and knees over his torso. Even though his hips were narrow, it was still a stretch.
His hands reached for her breasts and she froze. She couldn’t help it. But he was gentle. Very gentle. He plumped them and tested their weight. His growl sounded approving. She crouched a little lower and let the tips dangle over that tantalizing fur that covered his pecs.
“Easy,” he ground out. He lifted her breasts away from his chest and rolled the nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like. Anything that hurts. Are you sensitive here?”
No one had told her there would be so much talking. She was sensitive there. Weren’t every woman’s breasts sensitive? She didn’t feel like saying that there was an electric current running between her boobs and her pussy. “Yes.” Her voice was husky and almost inaudible.
“They’re bigger,” he replied. “I’d like to kiss, and suck on them.” His fingers squeezed lightly in a pulsing rhythm that made that electric spark turn on and off deliciously. “But I don’t want to mark them up.”
Between his words and his fingers her excitement was building. The thought of his mouth on her nipples was making her squirm a little. And he hadn’t really done anything yet. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. And made a discovery. His face was rigid and his mouth was already open, as if his restraint was taking a toll on him. She ran her tongue all around his mouth. He held quite still. She lifted her head.
“You going to get beard burn.”
She sat down right on his furry six-pack. “I don’t want another word about how hairy you are. Men are supposed to be hairy. And I don’t want to make love without kissing.”
“I’m hairier than most.”
“Not around here you’re not. And I don’t see any of the women in French Town walking around with red faces. I’ll take my chances.” She leaned over again and put her mouth on his.
She swallowed his groan. His mouth tasted of man. A flavor her body seemed to be familiar with, even though they hadn’t done a lot of kissing. Was this what it was like when you found your fated mate? She sure wished she had had someone to tell her about this stuff.
Jenna had hinted that the physical connection between fated mates was just part of the richness of their emotional bond. But she wasn’t at all sure that there was any emotional bond between her and this bear who was letting her explore his mouth. Wasn’t this just lust?
His big hands left her breasts. She squirmed a little lower so the tips dangled against his chest hair. The sensation was as arousing she had thought it would be. He didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe his fingers were so busy delving between her butt cheeks and finding her sex he didn’t have room to notice what she was up to.
His breathing was harsh. And his skin had begun to dampen. But his hands were still patient and gentle. He brushed the very tips of the hair that grew between her legs and chuckled into her mouth when she wriggled. She had to come up for air. He wasn’t supplying enough. Although she missed his breath the second she pulled away from his mouth.
“You’re getting wetter,” he said. But he still didn’t do anything except pet her lightly.
He was nothing but a tease. Wasn’t she a lucky girl? “Touch me.”
“I am touching you. Why are you in such a rush?” His voice was a rumble in the darkness, and even though his whole torso was stiff, she heard the laughter under the tension.
“I’m about to pop,” she explained.
“So pop.” This time his laughter was full of masculine satisfaction. “I’ve never had a woman come from just having her muff patted.”
That reminder that he had had more women than she had had hot dinners earned him a little chest hair pulling.
“Ouch. Was I tactless?”
“Just a lot.”
“Sorry.” His finger moved inward just a shade. “You’re soft here. Slippery and swollen. Would you like a finger inside you?”
Or something. “Yes.” It was a struggle to get the words out past her panting.
He taunted just the first inch or so of her throbbing, aching passage. His fingers circled the opening, pressing lightly and spreading her juices. The rhythmic pulsing of her passage became a fierce contraction.
Didn’t he want to be inside her? Properly inside her. She could feel his cock pressing against her butt cheeks. She tried a swivel of her hips to encourage him. He groaned a protest but she could tell he liked it. So she did it again.
“You witch,” he breathed hotly. “We’ll be done too soon if you don’t stop aggravating me.”
Given that he was writhing, despite his attempts at self-control. And given that she was dewy and everything inside was clenched as tight as her nipples, she felt aroused and powerful. Confident of her feminine allure. She ignored his complaints. Didn’t he know she wanted him inside her?”
He dabbled his finger a tiny bit further into her vagina and turned it so he could stroke the upper surface. She squeezed his finger tightly. Her body splintered and flew off in a shower of electric sparks. It was fireworks night on the Fourth of July. His laugh was possessive and triumphant. But he still wasn’t inside her.
He let her fall onto his sweaty body and lie still while he stroked her from nape to buttocks. Ripples of pure pleasure spread through her body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. His cock lay between them like a thick branch. She was feeling too languid to rub her mound over it, so she just lay still and enjoyed her orgasm.