Shifters of Grrr 2 (29 page)

"You're wrong," I whispered.

Bryce blinked, confused.

"You
could
have me. If you want me."

Bryce flinched, like I'd struck him. He bit his bottom lip. Watching his teeth sink into his flesh was suddenly too much, and I found myself rushing forward, pressing my mouth against his.

Bryce stiffened in surprise. Then, he relaxed, and his arms circled around my waist. He parted my lips with his tongue, and we shared our first kiss under an open sky in the shadow of White Bear Mountain.

I felt his hands wander farther south to grip my ass. Part of me was self-conscious about the extra flesh that was there, but the moment his fingers squeezed my rear cheeks, he growled against my mouth.

He pulled away, breathless. His eyes searched my face wildly. "You are so. Fucking. Sexy."

My body surged with emotion. I crumpled into his body, crushing my breasts against his chest. He squeezed me tight, his hands exploring every inch of me as his mouth consumed mine. His lips formed perfectly against my own, like we were made for each other.

"I want to make love to you, Sarah," he whispered.

"We shouldn't," I whispered back.

Bryce pulled away quickly, allowing me to see his eyes. I gasped when I saw how golden they'd become, the color of a wild animal. "I can't wait," he said, his voice shaking with urgency.

He locked his hands around the backs of my thighs and hefted me up easily. I cried out, surprised by his strength. It was superhuman. Then, I had to remind myself that Bryce
was
superhuman.

He had a bear inside of him.

I wrapped my legs around his trim, muscular waist to keep from falling off. Bryce held me as he walked us back to the cabin, through the front door, and into the bedroom.

He gazed into my eyes as he laid me on my back across the bed. "I'm sorry," he said.

At first, I didn't know if I'd heard him right. "What for?"

He silenced me with a bruising kiss. My insides clenched, responding to his force. Maybe that was what he was saying sorry for, his strength. His wildness.

But he had no idea that that was what I loved about him.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him down on top of me, showing him exactly how eager I was for him. His knees settled between my legs, and he lowered his pelvis to touch mine. I gasped when I felt that he was hard.
Rock
hard.

For me.

Suddenly, I couldn't wait anymore. My hands went to furious work at his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping, when Bryce stopped me.

"I don't want to hurt you, Sarah."

"You won't."

"You don't know that."

We stared at each other, both of us waiting for the other to make their move. When several seconds passed without a word, I continued my work on his pants. Bryce stopped me again.

"You first," he said.

I didn't know what he meant until he picked me up. He grabbed the hem of my shirt and whipped it off over my head. When my hair settled back down over my shoulders, I saw that he was gazing at me with a hungry look in his eyes.

He slowly eased me onto my back.

"I can't wait to feel myself inside of you." He kissed my collarbone. I gasped when I felt his warm, wet lips on my skin. "But I want to savor every inch of your body first."

His hands stroked my sides, his touch so light they were like butterfly kisses. I shivered with delight under him as I slid my hands into his shirt. My fingers skimmed over his muscular abs and chest. The cuts were healed but slightly raised from the rest of his skin. Feeling them under my hands reminded me of that night with the wolves, and I shivered again.

Bryce groaned as his mouth moved along my neck and down into the valley of my chest. His tongue flicked at the skin of my breast. His teeth grazed the edge of my bra. He breathed shallowly, warming my skin, as he pressed his groin into my inner leg.

My thighs jumped against him. God, I wanted him so badly. As Bryce ran his thumb over the outside of my bra just above my nipple, I gripped his hair in my fist. I jerked his head up so he could meet my eyes.

"I want you," I said through gritted teeth. I cupped his groin, letting him swell up my hand as he hardened even more, and curled my fingers around his shaft.

Bryce had a determined look in his eyes. His lips parted slightly, and he looked like he was about to devour me. But he picked me up instead, holding me close. His breath was in my hair as his hand moved down my back, unhooking my bra as it went. When he released me, I fell back against the bed, and Bryce was standing up to take off his clothes.

His muscles flexed as he peeled off his shirt, revealing the pillowy, swollen claw marks on his bare chest. Then he slipped his thumbs into his pants and slid them past his hips. His boxers were strained in the front, clamping down on his erection. Eventually, those were cast to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

I gazed at his body, like walking, breathing marble, and felt all the years we'd spent apart hit me all at once. We were both older now, with completely different sets of experiences under our belts. Somehow, the universe had brought us back together.

This felt right, in spite of the curse and everything that came with it.

"Come here, Bryce." I held my hand out to him.

Bryce came back onto the bed, breathing shallowly. His body towered over mine as he touched the edge of my underwear. "Are you sure you want this?" he whispered.

I drew my face toward his until I felt his breath on my cheeks. "I'm sure."

Bryce carefully slid my panties off, moving as if I were made of paper, as if he was afraid he'd tear me apart with the barest of touches. Then, I spread my legs for him.

I was ready.

Bryce drew forward, touching his tip against my wetness. He closed his eyes as he felt me, shuddering. He bit his lip. He looked like he wanted to take all of me right then, but he was holding himself back.

I curled my fingers into his hair and pulled his face down. We kissed, and Bryce penetrated me at the same time.

"Oh," he groaned, sinking down against me. He began pumping his hips, in and out. "You are so..." He nibbled my neck. "So tight. So
soft
."

I held him close as he thrust into me, each stroke like a soft wave of pleasure washing over me. I tilted my head back and moaned, and Bryce trailed his tongue down the center of my neck.

"I need you, Sarah," he panted, pushing his hips against me.

I could feel my walls closing around him, clutching him each time he pulled out. I closed my eyes, imagining this single perfect moment stretching on into eternity, Bryce and I fused as one body forever. I gasped, and Bryce caught my breath in his as he kissed me again, tongue plunging and moving with the rhythm of his thrusts.

I turned my face away, and his lips moved back to explore my ear, the nape of my neck. They never left my skin for all the minutes we spent in bed, legs and arms tangled up together.

Bryce's teeth glanced along my skin. He found a soft place in my neck and sank them in for a split-second, making my heart skip a beat. I started breathing faster as his movements became more frantic. His grip tightened around me, and the muscles of his torso clenched against mine.

"Oh, Sarah!"

I arched my back, pressing my breasts into him.

"Sarah!"

I closed my eyes again. I dug my nails into his back, knowing I'd leave welts to match the ones he had across his chest.

"Bryce," I whispered, letting my lower lip graze against his earlobe. "Come inside me, Bryce."

His back gave a shudder under my hands. Then, he went limp. His body crushed mine as he breathed hard. I could hear each inhale-exhale inside of his chest as the warmth spread in my pelvis. He filled me, jerking and shivering, before pulling out.

He bent his head to kiss and caress each of my breasts before falling to his side beside me. The bed shook under our weight, and we spent a few moments in silence, catching our breaths.

"I'm sorry. I haven't had a woman in so long--"

I reached out to clutch his fingers. "It's okay. We can try again next time."

"Next time," Bryce echoed, speaking slowly, as if he'd never heard the words before.

I rolled onto my side and gave him one last kiss on his lips. He draped his arm over my side and smoothed his hand along my sloped back, feeling every curve of my spine.

He searched my eyes. "Do you think the curse is broken?"

I studied his careful, hopeful expression. "Why don't you tell me?"

Bryce glanced down. His dark lashes curled against his cheek as his forehead furrowed. A deep rumble sounded in his chest. At first, I had to wonder what exactly he was doing. Then, I saw the first shades of brown fur sprouting along his jaw. His nose darkened to moist black. When he glanced back up at me, his eyes were yellow.

I gasped.

Bryce gave a baleful howl. A few seconds later, his transformation stopped and reversed. Not before long, he was back in the form of the human Bryce I knew.

He looked sad. I cupped his cheek to comfort him, but I couldn't deny that I was disappointed myself.

The white bear had appeared in my dream. I knew it was up to me to help Bryce. But my feelings weren't enough. Sex wasn't enough. So what did I have to do? Say, "I love you"?

I wasn't sure if I could do that just yet.

Bryce held my hand against his cheek and sighed. "It doesn't matter. I have you now. That's more than enough."

"I promise I'll help you break the curse," I said.

Bryce's gaze flicked up to meet mine. "And I promise I'll take care of you, in every way."

"Me, too." I smiled. "I'll take care of you."

Bryce returned my smile, and I could tell that it was a genuine one. "Well, you never got around to tasting my famous homemade marinara sauce, did you?"

I
was
hungry. "If you have garlic bread, you got yourself a dinner date."

"Of course I have garlic bread. What do you think I am, a caveman?"

"No. A bear."

I grinned, and Bryce made a face.

"Haha. Very funny. Very original."

I hopped out of bed with some trouble, feeling a little sore. "How about a shower first? We can take one together."

Bryce propped himself up on his elbows. Looking at him positioned in bed like that took my breath away. I could see how broad his shoulders were, his barrel chest and thick column legs. Even now as a human, it struck me how bear-like he really was.

"If we shower together, I can't promise that dinner won't be delayed." He raked his eyes appreciatively over my body.

I felt my skin flush with heat. His steady gaze made me feel beautiful, ethereal. Without a word, I reached a hand to him, inviting him to join me.

About the Author

Hi, I'm Christy. I love it when a strong man can be sweet, when young women are empowered, and I really love a romance with some magical elements! With me, you get what you see: paranormal romance, shifters, and werebears. Mostly werebears. I like to write the kind of stories that are best read by a cozy fire with a glass of wine in hand, and I hope you like them, too

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Art of Cunning - Steffanie Holmes

A Crookshollow Foxes story, PART 1

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real persons, living or dead, found within are purely coincidental. All characters are consenting adults above the age of 18.

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Copyright 2015 Steffanie Holmes

http://steffanieholmes.com

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ONE

"James Alexandra Kline!"

I cringed as my full name reverberated off the hallway walls. Through the glass wall in my office, I could see Matthew storming toward me, his round face puffed up like a pimple about to burst. Across the hall, Belinda - the visiting collections curator - looked up from her desk, her face alight with the promise of intrigue.

Matthew was mad. Which meant only one thing. He'd found out that-

"James Alexandra! The Raynard exhibit is opening in two weeks. Where the
fuck
are my paintings?"

I sank down lower behind my desk, wringing my hands in my lap. I'd known this confrontation was coming. In my head, I screamed at him that they weren't "his" paintings. Matthew Callahan was the director of the modern art department and he could no more paint an exquisite work of art than he could recognise one. He didn't even really
care
about art. He had only one trait that made him a competent curator - he was loud and bolshy and could usually get his way. Except, of course, when his assistant curator messed things up.