A Lion Shame (Bear Creek Grizzlies Book 3) (8 page)

S
J didn't know
what to think. From Chuck's threats and fighting for her life, to the sudden appearance of the mountain lion, to the craziness of Tate showing up, and then the relief of seeing Rosie and Dakota again... it was all too much. The driving snow made everything less real, too, as they walked down the street to some unknown destination. It felt dreamlike, almost.

Tate led the way to a set of stairs on the side of the hardware store to a blue door, opening it to let her in, and once inside, he set the locks before doing anything else. He flipped on lights and revealed a sparsely furnished apartment, almost vacant. Like he only lived there temporarily. Sarah Jane frowned as she wandered into the living room, and Tate moved around to crank up the heater, threw some logs into a fireplace and lit it, then retrieved a stack of blankets from somewhere else in the apartment. She tried not to smile as he pointed her at the couch closest to the crackling fireplace, then disappeared once more. He returned in just a few seconds, wearing his own clothes, and looking a little less disheveled.

She hadn't missed the scowls he'd directed at Rosie, but SJ didn't quite understand what had passed between them. Something big, she thought, but none of it made sense. Something about a mountain lion.

She didn't believe it right up to when Tate started talking. Her ears started ringing as he explained, very calmly and matter-of-factly, that he turned into a mountain lion. That some people turned into animals. That he'd somehow sensed she was in trouble from far away and drove back as fast as he could to save her from Chuck.

SJ stared at him, then shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"That's okay," he said, and took a deep breath. "It's not something that's easy to believe. But I think you know — you saw me when I knocked that son of a bitch off you. It might take time."

It felt like one of those times when Chuck told her she hadn't remembered something the way she thought she had, and SJ didn't trust herself enough to challenge him. So she watched Tate and tried to imagine him turning into a mountain lion. He waited in silence, though, until SJ felt uncomfortable enough that she laughed a little and shook her head, uneasy with it. With all of it. "I don't think I believe you. It feels like a trick."

"What would help you believe?" No one had asked her that before, and certainly not Chuck. SJ wanted to just wave it away and agree with him, just to keep the peace, but something changed in her. She'd fought to save herself and her daughter, and she had to keep fighting. She wouldn't let anyone intimidate her, even someone as strong and capable as Tate. So she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath and met his gaze without flinching. "Show me."

"You want me to show you the mountain lion?"

"Yes." SJ set her jaw and refused to budge. "I want you to show me."

Tate nodded, then took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." He tugged off his sweater and eyed her sideways. "I have to strip, otherwise I'll ruin my clothes, and I don't have enough to destroy a set just to make a dramatic entrance."

"I didn't peg you for being so shy," SJ said, wanting to laugh as a hysterical giggle climbed up her throat. She was either going to see Tate completely naked, or he'd turn into a mountain lion. Well, maybe she'd see both. Not a bad Wednesday night.

His eyebrow arched as he loosened the belt on his jeans, then turned around so she would see his butt instead of his business. "I'll try to remember you're someone's mom and not flash you with my altogether."

Not that SJ would have minded. She appreciated his back enough that the front probably would have been twice as enjoyable. SJ drew her knees up to her chest as she waited for Tate to fold his clothes and set them aside carefully before he snapped off the boxer briefs and then stood in his living room, completely nude. She held her breath, waiting.

Tate grumbled and crouched, and before SJ could blink, he'd turned inside out. She inhaled and then an enormous mountain lion stood in front of her. SJ looked around for Tate, just in case it was an elaborate trick, but faced with the golden gaze of the cougar, she couldn't deny it. He turned into an animal.

The breath caught in her throat and the room swam as her sinuses burned and SJ almost cried. She didn't know why. Maybe it was because he'd told her the truth, and when she questioned him from her own fear, he did exactly what she asked and proved it. SJ bit her lip at the sudden release of tension as everything he'd said and done started to make sense. It wasn't an elaborate ruse. He wasn't trying to trick her. He tried to protect her.

She started to shake as the events of the day came crashing back and what remained of her control fled. Even with a mountain lion standing there, SJ didn't have enough energy to even feel afraid. She took a shaky breath as the tears threatened, and when she looked up, the cougar was gone and Tate stood there, totally naked but looking concerned instead of embarrassed. In a flash, he'd pulled some sweatpants back on and was on the couch next to her, his arm around her shoulders. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's not you." SJ didn't know if she could explain it, but she had no control over the tears. She even laughed, holding her hands up. "I don't know what it is, though."

"You've had a rough couple of days." Tate took a deep breath, then abruptly pulled her legs across his thighs and took off her shoes. He adjusted a few pillows so SJ could lay back, and he grumbled under his breath as he started to rub her feet. "Just relax. It's the adrenaline, most likely. Once the fight ends, everything else kind of goes wonky."

"Wonky," she said, watching his face as Tate concentrated on pressing his thumbs into the balls of her feet, until SJ nearly melted into a puddle. "Is that the technical term?"

He smiled, darting a glance in her direction, then schooled his expression back to the indifference she'd grown to expect. "Yes, actually. Wonky. It's a medical term."

SJ sighed, covering her face so he wouldn't see her smile or the renewed tears. No one had ever rubbed her feet. Ever. And Tate hardly knew her. She couldn't afford to fall in love with him, not with everything else going on. "Why are you doing this?"

"I have a foot fetish."

She peeped through her fingers to check his expression, and there was enough of a twinkle in his eyes that she knew he was joking. "I'm serious. Why are you being so nice?"

"Because you deserve for me to be nice," he said, and his tone sounded strange enough that SJ let her hands fall away so she could really see him. Tate looked almost hesitant, though his hands never stopped from the gentle massage of her feet, ankles, and calves. "You should be pampered and cared for, Sarah Jane."

"It's been a long time since anyone pampered me," she said, and it came out mostly a whisper.

"Maybe we should change that." His expression remained difficult to read, but something in it made her heart skip a beat.

She'd only known him a couple of days, less than a day after leaving her horrible ex, and he'd just turned into an animal. She must have lost her mind, to think of sleeping with him. But she was lonely and cold and still a little afraid, and he was everything she'd always wanted in a partner.

As she stared at him, Tate leaned forward very slowly, very carefully, and touched her cheek. Bumped his nose to hers. And then he kissed her.

F
or the first
time in a long time, Tate didn't have a plan. He didn't think — he just kissed her. Sarah Jane looked so adrift, as if nothing made sense, and the lion hated it. They needed to comfort her. And the memory of the last kiss they'd shared drove him forward, though he leaned slowly so Sarah Jane had warning before he let his nose bump hers. She sighed and her hand rested tentatively on his knee. Tate deepened the kiss, closing his eyes so he could revel in every other sensation — the hush of her breathing, the scent of the fire, the soft caress of her fingers against his chest.

Tate broke away, his breath ragged in his chest, and tried to wrestle control back from the mountain lion. She didn't need an animal, she needed the man. "Sorry, I didn't know what else to do."

Sarah Jane gazed at him, looking a little love-drunk. "I didn't mind."

Tate couldn't help it; he smiled, touching her cheek and her shoulder and her arm. He couldn't stop touching her. He just needed to get her out of his system. Let the lion have the night, feel the connection to their mate, and then Tate could wrestle control back. "I'm glad, then."

Sarah Jane laughed, though it sounded a little watery, and then her lips crushed to his. She kissed him feverishly, desperately, and Tate kissed her back until fire consumed them both. Her nails left heated trails down his chest and back and Tate groaned, pulling at the thin sweater she wore. He needed to touch her. Needed her to touch him. Sarah Jane laughed, a breathless sound that sent his desire spinning out of control, and broke away long enough to tear off her shirt so he could finally feel her skin.

He couldn't get enough of her. He'd never get enough of her.

Sarah Jane sighed as his mouth found her breasts, even over the tangled contraption of her bra, and he growled in anticipation. Her jeans were too much of a barrier. He tore at the button and tried to yank them off her, and both of them tumbled off the couch to the thick rug on the floor, right there in front of the fireplace. Tate managed to hit the ground first, Sarah Jane sprawled across his chest, and that gave him better access to tear through the hooks of her bra and finally free her full breasts. They distracted him from her pants as Tate finally tasted her nipples, took one breast in his mouth as his hand slid under her jeans to grasp her butt.

Sarah Jane moaned, her fingers working into his hair to hold him close as her hips rocked to him. With only his sweatpants and the crumpled mess of her jeans between them, Tate's cock pressed against her and Sarah Jane froze.

She looked down at him, her mouth open, and watched him tease and suck on her breasts. Then Sarah Jane shimmied her jeans farther down her legs and repeated the long slide against his hard length. Tate growled and lifted his hips to meet hers, hating the thin cotton of his sweats and her panties that separated them. But she writhed on top of him, making the most delicious sounds as she pleasured herself, and Tate was mesmerized. Enchanted. He watched every expression and treasured every sound she made, so damn happy to be used by her that he almost couldn't control himself. He wanted to roll her under him to really feel her, or crawl between her knees to taste her and feel her thighs tighten around his ears, but he didn't dare interrupt her pleasure.

She froze on top of him, her hips rocking in short little movements that drove him insane with lust, and her mouth opened in a soundless howl. Her head tilted back and her eyes fluttered closed as she arched away, pushing down on his chest as she tightened and convulsed against him. Tate loved it. Reveled in it. He could have lain there all night, watching her.

Sarah Jane collapsed forward on his chest and panted against his neck, and Tate inhaled the intoxicating scent of her sweat. She lifted her head and blinked down at him, still looking dazed. Tate leaned to kiss her, lingering so he could stroke her tongue with his and nibble on her lips, and a flush climbed Sarah Jane's throat and cheeks when he retreated. His teeth grazed her chin and his voice came out husky, a deep rumble that had mostly mountain lion in it. "Good?"

"Good," she sighed, and shivered as he lifted his hips in a slow thrust. Sarah Jane slid off him and kicked her jeans all the way off her ankles, though she reached for his sweatpants.

Tate chuckled and managed to keep the damn things on, knowing they were the only thing keeping him in control as he caught a hint of her arousal, the delicate scent almost sending the lion into a frenzy. He nudged her back on the rug, and just watched her breathe as he toyed with the waist of her panties. She was so beautiful. So real.

And as he continued to watch her and touch her stomach and sides, breathing her in and memorizing every piece of her, Sarah Jane flushed. She moved uneasily under his scrutiny and folded her hands over the soft swell of her stomach, looking away. "I know my body is ugly. The stretch marks, saddlebags... You can turn off the light. It's okay."

Tate hated every man who'd ever told her she wasn't perfect. Every person who judged her stomach or her arms or the full curve of her hips. He leaned down to kiss her hands, then gently pried them away from her stomach. "You're perfect."

She laughed, trying to push him away, and tugged at his sweatpants. "You don't have to convince me; I'm already going to —"

Tate shook his head and moved to kiss her, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say. He didn't want that between them, her saying that she'd already decided to sleep with him so he didn't need to be nice. That wasn't how it worked. He might end up an asshole later on, when things didn't work out and he had to drag the lion and himself away from her, but for that night... There wasn't anything in the world that would convince him to deal with her roughly.

He retreated only a fraction, so his nose still bumped hers, and breathed the truth that he knew in his bones. "You are worthy of so much more. You are perfect. These," he said, caressing the part of her stomach still softer than maybe she wanted. "These marks are strength. These prove you lived — you created life. You created a miracle. How could I not worship your body?"

She blinked rapidly, clearing her throat, and she looked away. The flickering fire revealed the sheen of tears, and Sarah Jane stared at the ceiling over his shoulder. She whispered, a bare thread of sound, "You think so?"

He chuckled, kissing her again, and eased farther down her body, dragging his teeth against her curves as he went. "I'll prove it to you."

Sarah Jane blinked, looking at him, and her entire face reddened as he tugged her panties down and lay between her thighs, breathing against her slick folds. Tate rubbed his bearded cheek against her and she jumped, laughing breathlessly, and he grumbled, wanting to hear more of that. Or of her screaming his name in ecstasy. Either would do.

She inhaled sharply as his mouth found her center, and her heels dug into the floor next to him. Tate took his time, loving the way she grabbed handfuls of his hair and held on for dear life, and settled in for an amazing night.