Promising Peter (Bad Boy Alphas) (Shrew & Company Book 6) (5 page)

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He carefully unwound his body from hers and then carried the dirty tank top to the kitchen. He tossed it into his open duffel bag, washed his hands, and picked up his discarded jeans from the floor.

He pondered putting them back on—putting a layer of interference between him and Andrea.

“If you’re dressing, so am I,” she said, looking over the back of the sofa.

He grabbed the phone from the pocket and dropped the jeans.

Powering on the cell as he stalked across the room, he dreaded the imminent surge of text messages and voicemail notifications, knowing full well that every Carolina Bear who knew him and every Shrew was probably trying to get in touch.

He sank onto the sofa cushion, quickly cleared the notification screen, and brought up a browser window for Andrea. “You’ll need to use webmail,” he said.

She took the phone from him and navigated to her provider. “I hope I have some of these addresses saved in my webmail contacts. I usually use a desktop app for email.”

“You don’t check mail on your phone?”

“Not generally, unless I’m working away from the office for some reason and don’t have my laptop handy.” She scooted beside him and pulled her legs up under her body. “Um…Bryan first, I guess. And maybe cc Tamara. They’re probably together.”

“Probably.”

While she tapped out the message, he tried his damnedest not to read the screen—not to invade her privacy in spite of the seriousness of the situation. She could have been sending them a coded message for all he knew, telling them exactly which city they were in and everything she could observe through the windows of the apartment.

And that’d be her choice. If she wanted so badly to go, he wouldn’t try to keep her. He’d pay the piper and take his lumps.

She held the phone screen up to his eyes. “Does that message seem believable enough?”

“Hmm?” His eyes focused slowly on the screen.

“Is what I wrote forward enough to make them believe me?”

I’m okay. I’m with Peter. Be home soon with leads on Gene.

He rolled his gaze up to her.

“Is it?” she asked.

Forward, and not what he’d been expecting her to write at all.

“Nice diversion technique there at the end,” he said.

She shrugged. “Well, I didn’t lie, did I?”

“I hope not.”

She sent the email and handed him the phone.

She should have been trying to get away from him. He’d given her an opening, and she hadn’t wanted to run from him. Any other woman would have.

He didn’t understand her one bit.

Peter didn’t seem so eager to take his phone back, so Drea grabbed it, settled down into the sofa, curled against him, and caught up on her YouTube video subscriptions.

He seemed tolerant of her surfing, even if he did keeping furrowing his brow at the lead music to one particular pop culture news recap show.

“You’ve got a good internet connection,” she said. “Mine always breaks up.”

He cleared his throat and skimmed his fingers down the side of her arm. “Could be the phone.”

“Maybe. I’ll get around to replacing my personal one sooner or later. I tend to hold onto my phones until they’re so old that I can’t update the operating systems anymore.”

“Why? Not interested in the slick new thing?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I guess the idea of all that electronics waste going into landfills when the components aren’t properly recycled makes me twitchy. I try to be a thoughtful consumer. That’s hard sometimes. So many things that shouldn’t be disposable
are
now.”

“Mmm. Is Maria’s crunchy Earth-mama vibe rubbing off on you?”

Drea laughed and worked her leg between the two of his. She needed more of her body touching more of his.

He pulled the covers up over her a bit more.

“No. I had that concern before I got to meet the Earth mama. I guess I’m like this because of my grandparents. I always thought they were just frugal, but really, disposing of things was just harder for them. Where they lived in the mountains was pretty rural. No trash pickup, you know, and if they wanted to dispose of things, they had to drive them to the dumpster. Obviously, they wanted to limit how much they had to make that errand, but also, money was so tight, reusing what they could just made good sense.”

“Wise.”

“I’d like to think some of that wisdom has rubbed off on me. My mom got some for sure. She’s committed to buying as few things in plastic packaging as she can. That can be restrictive, obviously, but she finds workarounds. Ends up buying in bulk a lot. You should see how many Mason jars of chocolate chips she has in her pantry.”

He chuckled and set a hand to the small of her back. He pressed his palm up and down her spine in what seemed to be an idle gesture—not touching anything interesting, but it was still a touch, and she certainly wasn’t going to refuse. She would have never thought he’d be so tentative. If he’d asked for sex, she would have quickly and unambiguously told him yes.

Why hasn’t he asked?

“How is your mother?” he asked. “Haven’t met her yet. She and your father do a good job of staying out Gene’s splash zone.”

“I guess she’s as okay as could be expected. Any woman who has an alpha Bear as a son is going to have more than her fair share of angst, but she knows that she wouldn’t be any good in a conflict. When Gene started throwing his weight around, most of the older folks in the clan began to withdraw. Gene let them go, I guess, because they’re so docile and weren’t a threat for him. Our Bears tend to mellow a lot with age. They don’t even have to shift at full moons half the time.”

“And you’re pretty mellow to start with.”

She shrugged. “Not sure if anything can be done about that. We never needed to be aggressive and confrontational before Gene. Used to be that Ridge Bears were able to diffuse situations just by showing up. We’re mediators at heart.”

“You
became
mediators, Andrea, but you’re Bears. The creature in you was no mistake. Perhaps your job changed over time, but the capacity for strength is still there.”

She let out a quiet breath. “That ship has sailed for me.”

He dropped a hand atop her hip and growled.

“Simple truth, Peter. You know and I do. The Shrews can try to toughen me up and teach me to use weapons, but being better equipped isn’t going to spark a personality change. At this point, the best the clan can do is identify which born-Bears are more like Bryan and less like me. They should be the ones trying extra hard to have cubs.”

Peter gave her hip a squeeze, but said nothing.

In her mind, that meant he agreed. He would have been silly not to agree.

At least we’re in an accord on that,
her inner bear said.

Drea gave her head a little shake and tried to dislodge the furry pessimist, but she wasn’t going anywhere. She was a part of Drea in the same way Drea had lungs and a heart and a spleen. Even in sleep, she couldn’t silence that beast. At times, the bear part of her overtook her dreams and choked out any possibility for restful sleep.

Sighing, Drea set the phone down on the cushion ledge beside Peter and closed her eyes.

“Done already?”

“Thinking about too many things at once. With the bear in me chiming in to everything, I’m getting a headache.”

“What’s she saying?”

Andrea shook her head again. “Not worth repeating.”

“You and your bear aren’t simpatico?”

“We’re rarely in accord.”

“That’s unusual.”

“So I hear.”

“Hmm.” He slid his hand down to her belly and swirled his fingertips around her navel.

She sucked in a breath at the pleasurable tickle and her body arched reflexively into him.

She wanted to guide his hand into her panties so he could see again that his touch was welcome and wanted, but she’d never been forward enough to do such things. She’d always waited and hoped the guy would get the hint—with the few guys there’d been, anyway. She generally had to take what she was given, and she didn’t like having to ask.

Of course she knew she wouldn’t get what she wanted if she didn’t ask, but asking was so contrary to her personality. The thought of having to do so made her anxious, and she tamped the idea away so Peter didn’t scent her vacillating hormones and think again that she was afraid of him.

Hormones…

She gnawed on her inner cheek contemplatively and danced her fingertips over his collarbone.

His nose was much better than hers. He would be able to discern the tiny hormonal shifts, and there was one cocktail in particular she actually had some control over.

She closed her eyes and kept dancing her fingertips over that little stretch of his broad chest, perfectly chastely. But in her mind, she pictured her hands being secured around something much lower. She pictured herself kneeling between his legs and waiting to be told to go on. To lick or to suck. To do anything to give him pleasure.

And she would enjoy indulging him, because he’d be sated and content, and a content alpha was a good alpha.

She wanted to taste him—to pull him wholly into her mouth and caress his thick length with her lips and tongue. She wanted to feel his release pulsing down her throat, to hear his hiss of pleasure, to feel his body stiffen.

To hear him saying her name in that way he did.

She pulled in some air, and felt her way down to his nipple. Hard as a pebble in the chilly room and demanding the attention of her tongue. In her mind, she licked him brazenly and lashed the tip of her tongue all around the nub before he decided that turnabout was fair play. And she imagined she was on her back with her hands tied tightly behind her, enjoying every flick, pinch, and nip. Every lick. Every suckle—each one receiving an answering pull from her pussy. Maybe if she were a good girl, he’d go there next.

Please…

“Andrea,” Peter said in a growl.

She opened her eyes. “Yes?”

“Were you asleep?”

“No,” she said slowly.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Why do you ask?” She dragged her tongue across her dry lips and tried to keep her pulse from speeding. He’d be able to feel her heart pounding and how her breathing had become shallow and rapid.

“Because you smell like you need to be fucked. Your panties are wet against my leg.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help my body’s response. We’re so close, and… Is that a problem?”

“That depends on how you define a problem.” He rolled over a bit and nudged down the covers. His heated gaze raked down her belly and settled at the apex of her thighs.

Reflexively, she rubbed them together trying to slake some of the ache.

“You’re aroused just from lying there?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, no.” She swallowed. “I need a little more than that.”

“You’re turned on by my pheromones, then.”

“I can’t smell them.”

He grunted and slipped his fingers over her breast. The tips rasped over one engorged nipple and he rolled his gaze to her as if in question.

She lay very still and held his gaze.
Take what you want.

He gathered up the bud between his fingers. “Sit up,” he said.

She did, somewhat gracelessly and wincing a bit at his continuing pinch.

For a long moment, he sat very still, looking at her.

She wanted to know what he was thinking, and decided she wouldn’t be too forward if she asked. “What are you thinking?”

He grunted and held one breast in his large, rough hand. “The bear in me is thinking that I would be completely at your mercy if I were to come home to you every day and you presented yourself to me like this.”

She lowered her head and watched him fluff her nipples and caress the undersides of her breasts.

“The bear wouldn’t be wrong,” he said. “Every day, I’d walk through the door and I’d want to take your clothes off to see what’s mine.”

Yes.

“I’d want to touch everything. Prop you up just the way I like. Have you do things.”

“What things?”

He growled again and lowered his head to her chest. “Whatever I want. Your body would be mine to do with as I see fit. Do you understand?”

“Y-
yes
.” She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, careful not to touch him, but hoping he’d do more soon. The surge of wetness pooling on her thighs should have been his clue that she liked what he was saying.

“I like having control, Andrea.”

“I’m sure you’re wired that way.”

“I enjoy my partner’s complete surrender.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” He gave her nipple another pinch and raised her chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze.

She couldn’t nod, so she whispered, “Yes.”

He narrowed his eyes and canted his head slightly. “And how would you come to know such a thing?”

She didn’t have a good response for that. It was just truth, discernible in part by instinct, and the rest by experience. “I just know what makes me comfortable.”

He released her chin and trailed his fingertips down her throat. “A man like me could hurt you.”

“A Bear like you could hurt anyone. But you’re not going to hurt me.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “If you believe that me being your mate is the truth, you can’t hurt me. You won’t let yourself.”

“And I won’t let anyone else, either.”

She nodded. “That’s the way these pairings are supposed to work.”

He leaned back against the sofa arm and raked his gaze over her body again. “The wise thing would be for me to leave you here.”

“But—”

The smallest tilt of his head silenced her.

“I’d leave,” he said. “I’d stay away from you until the season has passed and I’m in better control of my faculties.”

Unable to say anything, she kept flexing her fingers into loose fists and releasing them.

“But I can’t leave. The very thought paralyzes me. My feet and legs wouldn’t cooperate and I’d never get to the door.”

Good.
If he left, he’d be leaving with her.

And how long do you think that’ll last?
the bear in her asked.

She sighed inwardly and focused her gaze on the weave of the sofa’s fabric.

“Come here.” He motioned her forward, and as there was no place to go besides between his spread legs, she knelt there.

He dragged his knuckles down softly between her breasts and skimmed his fingertips along the elastic top of her panties. “Perhaps you should put your clothes back on.”

He doesn’t like the way you look
, the bear teased.

Drea rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and forced back the tears.

You’re not like the other women in the office. You know that, right?

She refused to cry—not over that. She dropped her hands.

Peter stared at her with his brow furrowed.

You’re not one to draw the eye.

He pulled the pad of his thumb across her lips, and she realized then that she’d grimaced and held that contortion on her face.

“What’s going through your head right now?” he asked.

She shook her head and covered her chest with her arms.

“Did I upset you somehow? You smell upset.”

“No.”

The word and her quavering delivery of it were in stark contradiction.

Her eyes blurred and sinuses burned, and she looked down so he didn’t see those first few tears fall.

I’m a mess
.

That was just Drea, not the bear. She didn’t need her critical inner bear’s input to tell her what she already knew about herself. While Drea hoped that the bear’s insights about Peter weren’t true, she knew that her demeaning statements about the lady she shared a brain with were factual. She wasn’t a deluded woman. She knew her shortcomings and though she tried to rise above them, the odds of her ever being much more than she already was were slim.

Peter pressed his hands to her cheeks and lifted her face. “Fuck.”

He pulled her against his chest and slid down on the sofa, holding her atop him again.

And she didn’t know why, but that made her cry, too.

Maybe the pity triggered the tears. Too many people pitied her, and while she might have been deserving of tenderness, she didn’t want the fact that Peter felt sorry for her to overshadow any other emotions he might have had for her. She didn’t want to start a relationship based on some misguided sense of obligation.

He pulled the covers up over her and murmured soothing things in one of those languages she didn’t understand.

She cried until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, and then she stopped trying to.