Polar Bared (23 page)

“Fuck that, Pima and I need to
make up
for lost time.”

The unexpected innuendo brought heat to her cheeks that didn’t cool until they hit the cold air outside. The coat she hastily threw on wasn’t zippered and Gene brushed her trembling hands aside to take care of it. She pulled her gloves from her pocket along with her hat, stalling gestures because she didn’t trust herself to speak. Thankfully, he didn’t require words.

To her surprise, he laced his fingers through hers as they walked. It was oddly touching.

She recognized the truck he led her to as Brody’s. “Won’t he be mad you’re taking it?” she queried as he helped her in, his large hands easily grasping her around the waist and placing her on the passenger seat.

“Brody knows I have the keys. I’ve been staying with him.”

That jerk. And he’d never once breathed a word to Vicky despite seeing her daily. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” Gene replied as he put the truck into gear and pulled away from the curb.

She had to ask. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t stay away from you. Because I had to make sure you were safe.” He paused, and she thought he was done. “Because I love you.”

The dizziness had little to do with fear this time but more with exhilaration as he’d finally said aloud the words she’d longed to hear.

“I love you, too, Gene. Bear, killer, and all.”

The truck swerved before she’d even finished talking as he pulled it over and rolled to a stop in the empty parking lot of a store closed for the night.

Why on earth are we stopping?
A question answered as he leaned over and kissed her.

And kissed her some more.

And then kissed her some more. Despite their public location, Vicky couldn’t help but fall under his sensual spell. He touched her, and her body responded instantly. His tongue probed the seam of her mouth, and she opened it, encouraging a wet tongue duel.

Making out in the front seat of a truck, in a parking lot. How crazy. Insane. Utterly exciting. Old, shy Vicky might have shied from it, but the new her, the more daring version, found it enflamed her. To know Gene wanted her so badly he couldn’t wait, was there any better compliment?

A cry escaped her as his fingers tugged at the waistband to her pants. Gone were the thick layers required for warmth. It made his exploration easier. Vicky closed her eyes, anticipation tickling her. His hand cupped her mound inside her slacks, a sex hot and ready, covered only by a thin layer of cotton.

With maddening slow strokes, he rubbed her through the fabric, circular motions designed to have her trembling. If he kept at it, she wouldn’t last long, not with the tension already coiling within her. In need of distraction, she groped at him, her hand landing on his corded thigh encased in athletic pants. She skimmed his firm upper leg until she reached a prominent bulge, and then she rubbed.

Oh, how he groaned. “Vicky.”

It seemed her touching had a stimulating effect, as with a growl against her lips of, “Mine,” he tore at her panties, the ripping fabric loud in the truck, even over their matching panting breaths.

His lips caught her blissful cry as he inserted two fingers into her sex while his thumb rubbed at her swollen clit. She couldn’t help but grip him tight, and he gasped.

“Sorry,” she apologized, releasing him.

“Don’t stop,” he rebuked, placing her hand back atop his erection.

Fascinated that he enjoyed something so simple as her rubbing him, she squeezed, only to gasp as he worked her faster. His fingers slipped in and out of her quivering sex while the friction of his thumb on her clit coiled her arousal tighter and tighter.

Then peaked.

Her orgasm hit, and she buried her face in the curve of his shoulder, pressing her lips against his flesh as she shook in the throes of her climax. Only when the shudders in her sex subsided did he withdraw his hand whilst giving her tender kisses.

He started the truck, and Vicky realized he was about to leave before getting his just due. Not this time.

They said giving was a great way of thanking someone. No time like the present to test that theory.

Her fingers dug at the waistband of his pants.

“Vicky,” he growled in soft warning. “What are you doing?”

“Returning the favor.”

“You don’t have to do that. Trust me when I say the pleasure was all mine.”

“I’m not doing this because I think I have to. I’m going to admit a little selfishness and say I’m doing this for me.”

“You?”

“I want to touch you.”

Oh how his gaze smoldered at her words. It made her more determined than ever to return the pleasure.

“We really should go somewhere a little safer.”

No such thing existed. And besides, wasn’t it safe enough a moment ago when he once again brought her to ecstasy?

She ignored him and kept shoving at the fabric hiding her prize. She almost yelled “Aha” as his erection sprang into her waiting hands. The lack of lighting made it hard to see, but she could certainly feel him as she clasped his rod and stroked it.

A velvet-covered, long, and thick steel shaft. A good thing she already knew it fit, else she’d have worried, given its girth. As it was, gripping him with her fingers, she reveled in its rigid state.
I excite him.
A heady feeling for a girl still rebuilding her self-esteem.

Brushing her thumb over the tip of it, she found herself smoothing the drop pearling there. But she didn’t just want to touch. She wanted to taste him as he’d tasted her. Wanted to see if, as in all other things, this kind of intimacy with Gene would prove pleasurable.

Adjusting her position in her seat, she leaned over and took him in her mouth. He instantly reacted, his hips bucking. She could have grinned at this evidence of the effect she had on him. Not losing her latch on him, she let go of his rod to brace her palms on his thighs. At his low groan, she grew bolder. She sucked him deep then deeper. Uncertain what to do, she let instinct guide her, and instinct said to clamp her lips tight and suction.

Given the rigidity of his body, he definitely enjoyed that. So she kept at it, adding a bit of slide to her intent suckling of his shaft. His fingers threaded her hair, cupping her as he panted. “Yes. Fuck yes.”

She increased her pace and knew he’d reached his peak when his hips thrust forth and held, pushing him deep into her mouth. She almost pulled away, unsure of what to expect—she’d never had a man come in her mouth before—but it was too late. He creamed her, and she found herself swallowing and even licking him clean.

The most relaxed chuckle she’d heard from him yet shook his body as he drew her up, placing a light kiss on her mouth. “You are full of surprises, Pima.”

Apparently. And she couldn’t wait to explore them with him. Alas, it would have to wait another night. Once he’d ascertained she was safe at Reid’s home, and with a toe-curling kiss, he left her, but not before she made him promise to return.

“Nothing can take me from you now,” he vowed. And Vicky trusted he would return. Trusted his love.

Despite not wanting to leave Vicky, Gene knew he had to. Protective instinct meant solving the mystery of
him.

With several of
his
men in custody, perhaps they’d glean a clue, anything to lead them back to this mysterious leader with the magical-seeming powers. Gene wouldn’t hold his breath though. Despite his grounded nature, Gene had come to the conclusion something unusual was at play, some dark and evil magic that kept the guy’s identity a secret.

But no one was perfect. They were due for a clue. Something. And when they found it, they’d crack that mystery.
Then we’ll kill the threat.

Gene met Reid at the company garage, a large hangar situated in a nonresidential area—which meant no one to hear the screaming. As if anyone would complain. Well tourists might, but there was no reason for them to venture this way. As for the clan? Shifters weren’t disturbed by violence and when it came to clan safety, there were no courtesy rules. Hell, most of the inhabitants would hold a threat down while another pulled at its claws in an attempt to make them talk.

As Gene entered the lit garage, he could hear Reid shouting. “How the fuck did they all manage to kill themselves?”

Say what? Gene broke into a jog and came around a large semi-truck to see Reid pacing in front of a cage comprised of silver-coated bars, which contained three obvious corpses. The fourth had died at the hospital of a broken neck.

Scanning the bodies, Gene noted no signs of blood or trauma. So how had they died?

Brody crouched to the left of the portable prison and sniffed while Boris scowled. Another old member of their unit, Kyle, straddled a barrel, whittling at a piece of wood.

Just like the old fucking days.

“Poison?” Gene queried.

“Suicide capsules? Not common because it takes a heck of a poison to kill a shifter so quickly, but not unheard of,” Brody replied as he got to his feet and brushed his dusty hands off on his jeans.

“Just who the fuck are we dealing with that he feels a need to equip his minions with bloody poison pills?” Reid demanded. “I’m getting tired of this bullshit. No one knows who this guy is. He throws men away like they’re meaningless. He obviously wants something, but what? I mean, if he wants rulership of the clan, why not come out and challenge me? Why all these useless petty games?”

Why did he want to make Gene believe it was his old buddies’ fault he was kept captive for so long?
Yet another question, Gene silently added to the list. It frustrated him he had no answers. The only things he knew, that any of them truly knew, was the danger existed, vigilance was needed, and violence—fist pump—would happen.

Gene just wouldn’t have to face it alone anymore.

He was now back with brothers. His family. And he now had a woman.

My woman. Mine.

When no answers were forthcoming, and with night fallen, they decided to reconvene the next day. As Gene left with Reid, having given Brody back the keys to his truck, silence stretched between them, not one stilted or uncomfortable but one that came from familiarity and trust. Each had their own demons and issues to deal with, but the one that existed between them was no longer there.

Gene was ready to let go of the past—and live for the future.

As they took the road to Reid’s house, back to his Pima, Gene couldn’t help but mull over recent events.

The tryst with Vicky in the truck earlier that eve surprised Gene on many levels. For one, he’d let down his guard and indulged in a totally spontaneous, pleasurable moment. He’d meant it only as a chance to ease his need for Vicky by bringing her to climax. He certainly never expected her to reciprocate and to enjoy it so much, especially since, in between groans of pleasure, he’d tried to keep an eye on their less-than-secure surroundings.

It seemed his Pima had blossomed, gaining confidence and, in an odd twist because of it, had decided she wouldn’t let him go.

She loves me.

Loved him.

Mine.

There was something innately powerful about knowing someone in the world cared for you. It didn’t completely erase his past. It wouldn’t dispel the nightmares. Or rid his life of danger. But it did fill him with hope. Hope for a future, a chance at happiness.

I am a polar bared with all my faults and yet still accepted.

As they arrived at Reid’s home, Gene ignored Reid’s chuckle as he said, “Someone a little impatient?”

Damned straight he was. He took the stairs in pairs to find his Pima. When he entered the room, he thought she slept, but if she did, his arrival changed that. She woke and stretched with a smile.

“Hi.” How happy she looked to see him.

And it wasn’t just his cock that was happy to see her, but given the lack of blood to his brain, coherent thought pretty much escaped him, as did full sentences. “Less talk. More nakedness,” he grunted as he tore at his clothes.

A primal need to claim her made him rush, thick fingers tearing at garments that refused to cooperate.
Why must my shirt work against me?

She giggled. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

No, she wasn’t. That didn’t ease his need. On the contrary, the reaffirmation that she’d chosen him made his cock thicken painfully.

Throwing back the sheets, he could have laughed when he saw her familiar flannel jammies. “From now on, there’s only one bear I want to see you wearing in bed, and it’s not these,” he murmured before divesting her of it.

Nude, her glorious, rounded body proved too great a temptation, and he practically threw himself on her. She welcomed him with an embrace of her arms and lips.

He finally let her breathe while he took a moment to stare at her. What a sight she made with her bee-stung lips and eyes hooded with desire. And not an ounce of fear.

She looked at him, scars, scowls, and all, yet didn’t cringe. Knew what he was capable of— death, violence, and more—but didn’t run. She knew who he was, and still, she loved him.

Easing himself onto a propped arm, he took a moment to admire her. He ran a calloused finger down her body, from the dip at the base of her throat, where her pulse fluttered, through the valley between her large breasts with the lovely, fat nipples, and over the round softness of her belly to the neatly trimmed curls at the juncture of her thighs.

“Beautiful,” he muttered. Beautiful and his. His for claiming.

He started with the rapid pulse at her throat, sucking at the tender skin and leaving a hickey behind when he slid his mouth down to her breast. While her plump nipple beckoned, he held off, instead twirling his tongue around the begging berry. She shuddered then shuddered again as he rubbed the edge of his jaw against the tip.

“Oh, Gene.”

How he loved it when she sighed his name. Opening his mouth wide, he latched onto her bud, a hard suck and tug that had her arching her back and desperate fingers clasping his head.

Incoherent cries left her as he tortured first one breast then the other.

Her hips gyrated, a not-so-subtle invitation to sate her arousal. He ignored it. He had fantasized about this moment too many times to rush.