Boarlander Bash Bear (Boarlander Bears Book 2) (6 page)

His back relaxed under her cheek, and he slid his giant hand over hers where she hugged his stomach. “What don’t you like about your body?”

Her cheeks heated, but he had been brave by showing his secret self, so she would find courage for him. “I’m soft. See?” She pulled off her tank top and cut-off shorts and then squeezed her eyes closed so she wouldn’t be embarrassed by his reaction. She’d only fooled around with boyfriends with the lights off, and Bash’s living room was streaked with sunlight filtering through the half-open blinds of the back window.

He didn’t say a word, but his hand brushed down her ribs. She flinched as he ran his touch across her belly, and when he reached around her and unsnapped her leopard print bra, she squeaked in mortification.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

She huffed a scared breath and braved a look at him. His head was canted, and his eyes reflected oddly, like an animal’s in firelight. The color there was lighter and brighter, but that didn’t mask the awe reflected in them. He pulled her palm and pressed it onto his erection, tight against the seam of his jeans. It was huge and hard as a rock. “You don’t have to be scared in front of me. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.”

“You don’t mind if I’m…soft?”

Bash grinned as he dragged her waist against his. “Woman, you’re shaped like a number eight. That’s my favorite number.” He cupped her breast and shifted their weight slowly to one side. “I like your soft parts the most.”

“But…you look like a fitness model, and I’m…I don’t know. I’m not magazine-model beautiful.”

Bash pulled her closer and hugged her tight against his chest, swaying in a sweet, slow dance that was putting her insecurities to rest step-by-step. “You’re beautiful when your face lights up in that easy smile. And when you laugh
with
me, not
at
me. You’re beautiful in that tank top and cutoffs, owning your sexy body. You’re beautiful when you’re nice to people. Beautiful wild hair and perfect curves, and those cheetah eyes that light up when you see me. No, you don’t look like a magazine model. You look better.”

Her heart was now a puddle on the floor. It had vacated her body and melted, and now she was really going to cry. How had she lived her entire life without Bash? Her bone-deep loneliness seemed so far away now with him holding her so tightly. She’d never felt so happy or safe in her entire life.

Pushing upward on her tiptoes, she kissed him and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, then whispered, “I like you.”

Bash chuckled and lifted her off the ground. “I know.”

“Cocky,” she accused through a grin.

“Not cocky—you smell like sex and happiness. I did that. You like me.”

She cracked up and nodded. Touché. Bash with his heightened senses and brutal honesty would never make it easy for her to play coy. Huh. She really liked the idea of no games with him.

Bash’s blazing green eyes danced in the moment before he kissed her again, and when he settled her on her feet onto the cold laminate floor, he shocked her and slid his hand down the front of her panties. “Want to touch you,” he murmured between kisses. He dragged two fingers up her wet folds, and she jerked against his hand accidentally. Before she could muster her embarrassment, he cupped her sex and slid a finger inside her. With a moan, she rolled her hips forward to bump her clit more firmly against his palm. The growl was back in his throat, more urgent this time. Hooking his free arm around her back, Bash carried her through the small kitchen and into his bedroom. She was lost in his kiss now, numb to the world as he worked her closer to orgasm. He pushed his tongue deep into her mouth just as he settled her on top of his soft bed.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, easing back to shuck his jeans. “I know you don’t want no baby with me now, and I don’t have protection, so I’ll just make you feel good, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” she panted out as he pulled her panties down her thighs.

But she wanted more. Needed more. Bash had unsheathed his giant, throbbing dick, and it jutted out between his powerful legs as he positioned himself above her, straddling her hips. He would feel so good buried deep inside her, but maybe he was right. Maybe they should hold off trying for babies. She thought about her appointment, but all her reasoning from this morning flapped out the window like a colony of bats. They both wanted to be parents, and they both cared deeply for each other, but they were supposed to wait for…something.

Emerson spread her knees wider to give him more room in the cradle between her thighs. Needy, little beggar, she knew she was teasing and tempting, but she was losing her mind. The triceps of his muscular arm flexed as he locked his arm against the mattress, his hand right beside her face. He rocked his hips above her, as if he couldn’t help himself, and slid two fingers into her.

She cried out at how good it felt and arched her back against the comforter, spreading her legs even wider.

“Fuck, Emerson,” Bash whispered, eyes on her breasts. He leaned down and drew her aching nipple into his mouth, soothing it instantly as he lapped and sucked her, moving his fingers inside of her in a steady, slow rhythm.

Emerson leaned forward and gripped his hard shaft, then slid her hand down it. Bash tensed his abs and rocked forward, encouraging her touch, as he rolled his eyes closed. The head of his cock was swollen and red and a drop of moisture appeared on the tip. His hips bucked again as she took another stroke. God, he felt so good moving his fingers inside her, but her foggy mind screamed that it wasn’t enough. Testing, she pulled his dick downward until it touched her sex.

Bash gritted his teeth then kissed her deeply, his tongue pushing against hers at the same pace he was setting with his fingers. Emerson kept his dick against her wetness until he lowered down farther and rubbed each stroke against her sex without her guiding him. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and gripped her hips, shaft resting on top of her. So close, and not nearly close enough. She kissed his neck, then bit him gently before returning to his lips, and now Bash’s control was slipping as he rolled his hips against her. He jerked back, and the head of his shaft touched her entrance, dipped in slightly.

Bash clenched his jaw and flinched his hips away. “I want to be in you so bad, but we can’t. What if…”

Emerson cupped his cheek and searched his eyes. “What if something great happened?”

Bash frowned slightly. “Yeah.”

“You want to try with me?” she whispered.

Bash’s hips moved, and he slid shallowly into her again, which caused her to rock toward him. God, he would feel so good.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

She leaned up and kissed him gently, then relaxed and nodded.

Bash let off a relieved sigh and dipped into her again.

“Deeper,” she begged.

And he did. Bash wrapped his arm around her back and slid into her slowly, halfway, then back. She was so wet and ready. A soft, sexy growl vibrated from his chest as he pushed into her again, burying himself inside her. Easing out, he kissed her. She nipped his bottom lip and held him between her teeth as he flexed his abs against her and slid into her again.

“Oooh,” she moaned, tossing her head back.

His lips were everywhere. Little bursts of fire enflamed her skin where he touched her, and now he was bucking into her faster, harder. She was pushed farther up the bed with his force and was blinded by the intense ecstasy between her thighs. He was so big, so powerful, so perfect inside of her, as though he’d been made to be her perfect match, her perfect fit.

Bash buried his face against her neck and held her close as he slammed into her. She was so close.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she whispered mindlessly.

Orgasm blasted through her in throbbing bursts just as Bash rammed into her and froze.

He cried out a sexy, helpless groan as his dick throbbed inside her, filling her with waves of heat with every pulsing shot of his seed. He moved again, slower, smoother as her clenching body matched his release. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right.

Bash stroked into her slowly for a long time until every last aftershock was done, and then he smiled against her neck. He eased out and slid down her body until his chin was on her stomach. With an adoring smile, he murmured, “I know I’m supposed to go slow, but I like you, too. I mean…I
like
you.” His eyes were raw and conveyed something much deeper, pleaded for understanding, and she got it.

With a happy smile, she pulled a pillow under her head so she could see him better. Running her fingernails through his dark, mussed hair, she admitted, “I love you, too, Bash Bear.”

His lips twitched into a smile, and then he sighed a long, relieved sound. He kissed her belly gently, then murmured, “You said you’re the luckiest, but you’re wrong. You give me everything. You make me the lucky one.”

Bash’s heart was beating fast against her cheek as he lay under the covers with her. Emerson had been lost in happy thoughts, watching a square of light from the window travel slowly up the foot of the bed toward them, but Bash’s pulse should’ve slowed by now. They’d been quiet for a while, just cuddling.

He pulled her in closer against his side, and it happened again. His heart rate galloped. Narrowing her eyes, she rested her chin on his chest and asked, “Sebastian Kane, what on earth are you thinking about?”

His eyes flew wide, but he only met her gaze for a moment before he looked away. “I’m happy, and then I feel bad, and then I’m happy again.”

Tracing the burn mark on his shoulder, she whispered, “Tell me why you’re happy first.”

“Because you want a cub with me.”

She smiled and said, “Now tell me why you feel bad.”

“Because my dad was dumb, and I’m dumb, too. You’re smart, and you wanted a smart dad for your cub. You settled. And then I think you don’t mind because you never made me feel simple, but then I don’t want you to be mad later if our cub ain’t smart. I didn’t make good grades in school. I mean, in math I did because I understand numbers, but English and language arts and history and all the others… My mom just about pulled her hair out trying to help me pass.”

“I bet you were good at gym.”

“I was fuckin’ awesome at gym,” he said, eyes serious. “And lunch. I beat all the kids at lunch.”

She stifled a laugh and clamped her teeth on his chest, then said, “Now ask me how I feel.”

Bash brushed her corkscrew curls away from her face and then tried but failed to tame them behind her ear. “How do you feel?”

“I feel happy, then bad, then happy again,” she said, using his answer.

“Why happy?”

“Because it feels like my whole life—all the hard stuff, and the easy stuff, and the crooked road to my twenty-eighth year—led me right here into your arms. And then I think about us trying for a baby and it makes me excited and warm inside. In my chest, where my heart is.”

“I feel that, too. Warm and good.” His brows lowered. “Why bad?”

“Because you don’t see yourself the way I see you. You aren’t dumb, Bash. You’re fun, hilarious, and kind, and so much smarter than you give yourself credit for. I feel bad because I don’t like you talking about yourself that way. And then I feel happy again when I think about our cub being like you someday.”

The frown lifted from his features and was replaced by one of those crooked, heart-stuttering smiles. “What do you mean, someday?”

With a laugh, she said, “Well, it might not happen right away for us. We might have to try for a little while. Practice.”

“I’m fine with practicing,” he said immediately. His attention shot to the square of light, now resting on their hips. “The others will be off their shift soon. Do you want to see ten-ten?”

She gave him a suspicious glare. “Are you trying to rub its magic off on me?”

Nonchalantly, he said, “Maybe,” then kissed her forehead and rolled out of bed. “Also, I really did set up a party for you down by Bear Trap Falls, and I need to get cooking or everyone will be bitchin’ about me taking too long. We come off that mountain hungry.”

“Hmmm,” she said happily as she slid from the bed and rooted around for her panties. When she saw the tattered fabric, she gasped and held up the pitiful negligee. “Bash, you ripped them!”

“Well, I was gentle with everything else.” He snatched them out of her hand. “Besides, these are mine now. Audrey taught me how to scrapbook.”

“What? No! You aren’t putting my panties into a scrapbook!”

He laughed and held them too high for her to reach. “These are for the When Bean Was Made page.”

Mortification blasted heat through her cheeks as she jumped, trying to reach them.

Bash flicked them up in the air out of her reach. “For real, Emerson, I want them. I won’t scrapbook them if you don’t want me to.”

She stopped bouncing and rested her palms against her cheeks to cool the burn. “Then why do you want them?”

He cocked his head and frowned like she should know the answer already. “To smell later, obviously.”

“Oh, my gosh, I can’t even have this conversation,” she said, making her way into the living room where her duffle bag sat near the front door.

“It’s like pheromones with a hint of soap,” he murmured.

“Stop smelling them, Bash!”

“I’ll give you a trade.” Bash appeared in the living room empty-handed. He’d probably already hid the damned panties in his room somewhere.

“I don’t want your underwear.”

“How about a sleep shirt?”

She narrowed her eyes and tried to cling to that wisp of anger, but it faltered like a mirage in a desert when he grinned at her. His happiness was infectious. Bash pulled his black cotton T-shirt off the floor and handed it to her.

After a moment of hesitation, she begrudgingly took it and sniffed his shirt. It smelled of cologne and body wash that was probably named Sexy Lumberjack or Cool Evergreen or Biker Bear Mutton Chops or some other manly name. It smelled divine. “Fine. Trade accepted.”

“Great. Now come on. I have to get you settled into ten-ten. It takes a long time to heat pizza rolls on the grill.”

She huffed a surprised laugh as he disappeared back into his bedroom. One thing was for sure and for certain. Life with Bash would never be dull.

After she was decent again with her bathing suit under her clothes and hair pulled in a mess of curls on top of her head to cover up the mega-sex-hair she’d been rocking, she glossed her lips, reapplied mascara, and spun to leave his bathroom. On second thought, she turned to a full-length mirror and lifted her tank top, then pressed her hands on her belly. Today had gone so differently than she’d imagined, and the promise of a new life and adventure filled her stomach with butterflies. Even if it took them a while to get pregnant, just the thought of starting this journey with the man she loved was exciting. Mom and Dad would flip out, and Amanda, too, of course, because Emerson wasn’t doing things the conventional way, but so what? She was really and truly happy, and that would have to be good enough for her family.

“Em. Emmy. Emalemadingdong,” Bash muttered from the other room.

With a laugh, Emerson tugged her shirt back into place and sauntered into the other room where Bash was tying the front of his low-slung, green and white swim trunks.

“What are you saying?” she asked, utterly amused.

“I’m seeing if I like any nicknames for you.”

“Well, I vote no on Emalemadingdong.”

“I like your real name best,” he agreed, slipping into a pair of flip-flops and pulling on a white T-shirt. “Hey, we match!” Bash pointed to the strap of her green bikini top that showed under her tank. “Clinton is gonna be so mad ’cause we’re so fuckin’ cute. We should take selfies and tape ’em to his trailer. I like your lip glitter.”

Yep, from this day forth, Emerson was definitely going to call lip gloss “lip glitter.”

Bash swooped in and kissed her laughter away, then eased back with a big grin on his face. He squeezed her shoulders and gave a silent, excited shake of his head, then released her and pulled her by the hand toward the living room. “I’m gonna tell everybody what we did in my bed.”

“Nope.”

“Fine, I’m going to tell everyone we made out, but wink a lot so they get what I really mean.”

“Bash, no.”

“Fine, I’ll draw a picture of us doing it.”

“No.”

“Sign language.”

Giving up, she sighed through her smile as he picked up her bag and opened the front door.

“No answer means yes. I made this!” he said, pointing to the door. “It used to be just a stack of tires on account of Poop Chute Clinton saying I couldn’t fix up the trailer, but now I have a door. I made it fancy for you,” he murmured, standing back to look at his handiwork. “I’ll paint it red because you said you like red doors. No animals will get in.” His lips pursed into a thin line. “I will miss kicking the tires down, though.”

Bash jogged down the stairs and held his arms out, waiting for her to koala bear him again. As she climbed on his back, he said, “I’m going to make you a walking path. You have to almost drown sod for it to take here, so it’ll be wet and squishy for a while, and your shoes will get messed up.”

She nibbled his earlobe. “They’re just flip flops.”

Bash straightened out her leg. “But your toenails are painted all pretty.”

She wiggled her toes so the glossy fire-engine-red polish shone in the sunlight. “You like them?”

“Hell yeah. They make me imagine us watching TV on my couch late at night with your feet resting in my lap, and then we fuck.”

She cracked up and hugged his neck tighter as he walked easily across the yard, ducking the sprinkler water. “Are all of your imaginings going to end with us fooling around?”

“Yes. I almost forgot to tell you. There is a mouse in ten-ten.” Bash settled her on her feet on the white gravel road. “You aren’t afraid of them, are you? I mean you said you were scared of animals bigger than Chihuahuas, and Nards is definitely smaller, so you’re good, right?”

A mouse? “I’m a little scared of them.” Try, a
lot
scared of them.

“Audrey says he’s real polite, and he never gets up on the counters or the furniture so long as she puts food somewhere on the floor for him. He likes grapes best. The green kind, not the purple. He’s tame as a pet store mouse.”

“And his name is Nards?” That sounded less scary than Rabid Monster Field Mouse, which is what she would’ve named it.

Bash pulled the strap of her duffle bag across his chest and draped an arm around her shoulders. “I promise you’ll be okay. All the girls in the Ashe Crew and Gray Back Crew have lived in ten-ten, and no one had a single horror story about Nards. He’s a lucky mouse.”

“Maybe if I see him and it’s not a surprise encounter, I’ll feel better,” she said doubtfully.

Bash kissed the side of her head and sounded proud when he declared, “Brave mate.”

“Mate?” The butterflies in her stomach had turned to falcons.

“Yes. But slow, I forgot. Girl…friend. That doesn’t sound like enough.”

“No, no, you can call me ‘mate.’ Is that the terminology for shifters when you pair up?”

“Yes. I was always scared my bear wouldn’t pick. I mean, I knew he was ready because I’ve been fighting these instincts to go meet women, but it’s the animal’s choice first.”

“And your bear picked me?”

“We both did. You are the easiest choice I ever made. Harrison said it would be like that, but you just don’t know for sure until it happens to you. I felt sick at the Meet-A-Mate Bash. All I wanted to do was be with you, and when we had our fight, I just wanted to go home. I watched you leave, and you were crying. It felt like my guts were getting cut out of my body and then set on fire and then peed on and then put back in my body. And then it felt like someone ran over me with a tractor.”

“I’m really glad that didn’t actually happen to you,” Emerson said, feeling a little queasy at the mental image.

“My chest used to be all tight,” he said, turning to walk backward in front of her. “Now it don’t hurt at all.”

“Because of me?” she asked, touched at how honest and sweet he always was to her.

“Yeah.” He inhaled deeply. “You make me breathe easy.”

“Will I ever get to see your bear?” she asked. “Or is that against the shifter laws?”

“Do you want to see him?” Bash asked, his face going solemn as he stepped into line beside her again.

“Yeah.”

“You’ll be scared. He’s…different than me.”

“Is he mean?”

“No, just dominant, and he don’t mind fighting. You’ll make him more protective.”

“Will he hurt me?”

“Never. You’re mine to protect. I’ll always keep you safe, no matter what.”

And she believed him. Bash was optimistic, fun-loving, and open, but he was also as tall as a redwood and built like a Mack truck. If he thought his bear was beastly, then he was, simple as that. Bash didn’t sugarcoat things. He just said it like it was and moved on.

What would she do if anyone tried to hurt Bash? Red-hot boiling anger flooded her veins at the thought. He was good, kind, and wouldn’t hurt anyone unprovoked. That stupid article she’d edited for Bartleby flashed across her mind, and she got even angrier. Bartleby didn’t know anything, and he was definitely going to be pissed when he saw what she’d done to his article. She was probably going to get fired as an editor, but suddenly, she didn’t care so much about that. Spending time with Bash had shaped her dream job into something new. She didn’t want to edit anti-shifter articles anymore. She wanted to
write
for the newspaper and show Saratoga the other side to shifters that Bartleby had failed to see.

The thought of submitting articles of her own had been on her mind for a while now, but this right here was the exact moment she decided to go to battle for the shifters of Damon’s mountains. It was the moment she decided to protect Bash the only way she knew how—by publically opposing the anti-shifter murmurings that had sprouted up in Saratoga when humans had learned that dragon shifters existed.