A Lion Shame (Bear Creek Grizzlies Book 3) (9 page)

S
J didn't
last long under the fierce onslaught of Tate's mouth and fingers and teeth, even though he tried to drag things out by retreating and nibbling on the insides of her thighs instead of her center. She'd never felt anything like it before. The crackling fire, the soft friction of the rug underneath them, and the hungry noises Tate made all overwhelmed her. SJ squeezed her eyes shut and let the sensations roll through her — she surrendered and just let him love her.

Ecstasy boiled up from her toes, growing and growing until she couldn't breathe. She couldn't concentrate or think or do more than just hold on to the rug and hope she didn't shatter into a million pieces. Tate squeezed her ass and hummed against her sensitive flesh, and the wave crested. Knocked her off a cliff until SJ cried out and arched and shook as he continued moving against her.

SJ struggled to breathe as Tate retreated, and stars dotted her vision. Little tremors ran through her as the muscles in her thighs gave out and she just sprawled across the floor, at his mercy. Tate brushed a butterfly kiss against her knee. "This part of you is perfect."

Another kiss against the tight muscle in her calf. "And this part of you."

He squeezed her ankle but dragged his mouth up her thigh to her lower stomach, just north of where her core still trembled and clenched. "And this is perfect."

SJ laughed, trying to find some kind of anchor in the quiet dim comfort of his living room. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm never ridiculous." Tate crawled over her, teasing her belly button, and nibbled on her side where some residual muffin-top still waited. SJ closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep from moaning as he stroked her side up to her breasts, and his voice went husky and deep. "And this is all perfect."

She'd never felt worshiped before. But that was what it felt like as Tate murmured and touched and explored every inch of her skin. SJ stretched under his attention, wiggling in the rug, and didn't care at all that a mountain lion occasionally peered at her from behind his dark eyelashes. She reached for him, though, not content to just be adored. She wanted more of him. She wanted to repay the care he'd taken with her, and she wanted to show him how much she felt for him already. Even after knowing him only a few days, she thought she loved him.

Her hand slid under his sweatpants and Tate went still as she touched the hard heat of his cock. It felt heavy and full and absolutely enormous against her palm, and SJ had to bite her lip to keep from saying something. Or just blurting out "Holy shit" and whipping off his pants so she could stare at it.

Tate remained on his side next to her, his breathing getting heavy as SJ drew her hand slowly along his length. His eyes sparked and shone through the soft light, but he didn't move. He didn't snarl directions or shove her head down at his crotch to demand more than her hands. SJ pushed away the thought; that didn't matter anymore. Tate would never be so callous.

She watched his face as her hand twisted and stroked under the sweatpants, and Tate groaned. He leaned forward to kiss her hungrily, his tongue thrusting against hers to mirror the way his hips moved to meet her hand. SJ gasped at the feeling, imagining what it would feel like to have him inside her, moving against her in that slow plunge. Just the thought made her hand tighten around him and her breath come faster, and SJ moaned against his mouth as Tate pulled her closer.

SJ wanted it to go on forever. She wanted to tangle herself with him in front of the fire and just touch and kiss and explore each other until the sun rose. But Tate rested his forehead against hers and chuckled in a breathy, desperate way. "That's too perfect, babe. If you keep going like that, we'll have to take a break before we get to the main event."

She paused, not sure if she wanted to keep going or demand he take off his pants, and in her hesitation, Tate laughed. He kissed her again and managed to shimmy off his sweatpants, then nuzzled behind her ear. "Do you want the main event? We don't have to, we can just play a little more."

"I do," she said, and linked her arms around his neck so she could kiss him back. As his body settled over hers, SJ resisted the urge to lift her hips and let him slide inside. She wanted him with a desperate ache, but... She swallowed hard and whispered against his lips. "But we need protection."

Tate blinked and for a second, SJ thought he might protest and then she'd have to walk away. She loved Dakota more than life itself but SJ hadn't been ready to be a mother, and she sure as hell wasn't ready to have two babies before she turned twenty-three. Panic set her heart pounding and she braced herself for disappointment, then Tate kissed her again. He squeezed her hip and rolled to his feet. "Good call."

SJ took a deep breath as she looked up at him, her naked Greek god, but squeaked as Tate leaned down, picked her up, and carried her into the bedroom in the back of the apartment. She laughed, trying to form a thought as Tate lay her on the rumpled sheets and then dug through the bedside table like a man on a mission.

She sighed and stretched in the soft sheets, appreciating the attention to quality — it felt like a fancy hotel room with an expensive mattress and fluffy down pillows that she sank into as she watched him search. The dark room, partially lit with the flickering flames from the living room, felt close and warm and intimate.

And too dark, because Tate didn't find what he was looking for. He marched to the other side of the bed and the other bedside table, squeezing her ankle as he passed, then gave up and went into the bathroom. SJ bit her lip, on the verge of telling him to forget it even though she knew better, but Tate laughed in triumph and paused in the doorway to show her a handful of condoms. "Victory."

She laughed, her stomach squirming in anticipation as his expression shifted and intensified as he approached the bed. She held her breath as he tossed the condoms towards the bedside table and one wrapper crinkled as he opened it. Tate knelt over her so he could kiss her again, and SJ closed her eyes as the heat of his body enveloped her and set her on fire. Tate grumbled as he kissed her throat, squeezing her ass and nudging her thighs apart with his knee. "Ready?"

"Yes." The word escaped as an embarrassing moan, desperate and needy, and she would have flushed if he hadn't groaned with equal wanting. SJ arched her back until his mouth found her breasts, and her nails dug into his shoulders as Tate's cock slid against her.

He teased her for what felt like forever, the massive head of his cock invading and retreating until SJ growled back and lifted her hips to meet him, wanting more. Wanting all of him. Tate made a savage sound and thrust, plunging into her until SJ froze and clenched around him. He was huge — stretching her until he sparked a deep fire and a tidal wave of pure bliss ripped through her and SJ could only hang on. Tate groaned more and moved against her seizing channel, hands braced in the mattress near her shoulders so he had better leverage. SJ held on to his forearms, mouth open in a silent cry as stars dotted her vision and she couldn't have done anything but hang on for all the money in the world.

As she gasped and writhed under him, Tate didn't withdraw. He thrust in short little punches that kept them connected, his stomach a hard wall of muscle against hers, and just as SJ thought she'd recovered, his body would move and throw her into another whirling vortex of ecstasy. Sweat dripped from his chest to hers. SJ managed to wrap her legs around his waist, wanting to keep him closer still, and Tate growled. His mouth found her throat again, letting her feel his teeth a little, and he said, "Tell me what you want."

"More," she whispered, even if she didn't really know what that meant. The thought of him leaving for even a second made her legs tighten around him, and she tried to link her arms around his neck as well to keep him close. Sweat made everything slick and smooth between them, and she tasted salt as she kissed his shoulder.

"More what?" Tate's arm slid under her back so he could squeeze her close as well, and SJ arched her back until her breasts crushed against his chest.

"More of you," she said. His hips rotated, pressing his cock into every part of her, and SJ groaned. Her nails bit into his shoulders, his back. "All of you."

She clung to him as Tate groaned and bucked, thrusting wildly as he lost control and passion consumed them both. SJ got lost in the inferno, in the overwhelming suddenness of each thrust and kiss and squeeze, until she cried out and seized and her nails left deep scores down his back as she lost all control.

Tate snarled and contorted over her, the headboard crashing into the wall with the force of his lust. He jerked, groaning, and he slowed, still moving as his muscles twitched. SJ just tried to hold on as Tate collapsed on top of her, his breathing harsh in her ear. His weight felt comforting more than overwhelming, even as she struggled to catch her breath and fatigue rolled through her along with the afterglow. Her body still trembled, reacting as his cock slipped away, and SJ stroked the back of his neck as Tate grumbled and nuzzled against her neck. She exhaled as Tate went up on his elbows over her, his gaze piercing even through the dim light, and his lips drifted over her forehead. "Perfect."

She smiled, eyes settling closed as she relaxed. He was right. It was perfect.

H
e didn't want
to let her go. Tate woke up a couple of times, mostly from nightmares and a sense of foreboding, but with Sarah Jane snuggled against his side, it was easy to fall back asleep. The thought of her sleeping somewhere else nearly unhinged him, and it didn't occur to him until just before dawn. So he lay awake as sun filled the bedroom, content to listen to Sarah Jane breathe as he wondered about what the hell to do next.

The lion needed her in his life. That part, at least, was simple. But Tate didn't want anything to do with what she brought with her — gangster boyfriends and drug runners and God only knew what else. She careened through life, one bad decision at a time, and part of him wondered if he was just another of those careless mistakes. They'd known each other a couple of days, and yet there they were, in bed together. Shifters knew their mates immediately, but he wasn't sure it was the same for humans. Maybe she felt a connection to him. Or maybe he was just her next meal ticket, the next guy to take care of her.

Or maybe not. The mountain lion's insistence began to feel like a demand, and Tate didn't know what the price would be for rejecting his mate. Maybe the lion would go crazy, go completely feral. Tate already had enough trouble keeping himself in line, and adding more stress and tension to the beast's existence wouldn't help anything. But if that meant living with a mate he didn't want... No one needed that. It wasn't fair to her, and it sure as hell wouldn't be fair to Dakota.

Tate covered his eyes, wanting to crawl under the bed. Maybe it would be fine. Sarah Jane needed time to get used to him, and he needed to know more about her. And her baby. Despite what Sarah Jane said the night before, Tate wondered if she was really okay with his other side. She'd been attacked, feared for her life, and run from a terrible relationship all in a couple of days, and then he told her that shifters existed. Not exactly the recipe for a normal relationship.

For the first time since Monique destroyed his heart, Tate didn't immediately reject the idea of a relationship. Sarah Jane was his mate. It was exactly that simple, and exactly that complicated. He closed his eyes as the early morning sun crept through the curtains and warmed the foot of the bed. He knew the snow still gathered outside, but it didn't bother him like it had just the day before. If Sarah Jane wanted to stay in Bear Creek to be close to Rosie, he'd stay. Sarah Jane was his sunlight. She shone brighter than any desert sun he'd ever seen.

She sighed and stirred, lifting her head from where it had pillowed on his chest, and she looked around blearily. When she caught sight of him awake, Sarah Jane flushed and leaned back, still blinking owlishly. "Uh, good morning."

"Good morning." Tate kissed her and resisted the urge to roll her under him again so he could really celebrate the new dawn as his body reacted, but from the way she sighed and moved against him, Sarah Jane didn't mind. He chuckled and leaned over to the bedside table, searching for another condom.

She still looked drowsy and warm and content, and the mountain lion would have beamed with pride that his mate looked so sated. But Sarah Jane started to sit, rubbing her eyes. “I need to get back to Rosie's. I shouldn't have just left Dakota with her all night, that wasn't fair."

"She would have called if she needed anything," Tate said. He couldn't help but appreciate her ass as Sarah Jane stood, and thoughts of the night before filtered through his sleep-fogged brain as his cock stirred.

"Yes, but —" Sarah Jane turned bright red as she turned back and caught him watching her, clearly aroused, and for a second she looked completely flummoxed. Tate wondered if he should have covered himself, or pretended not to admire her so openly, but he wanted her to know what she did to him. In five seconds, the sway of her hips turned him into a complete mess. She cleared her throat, searching for words. "What I meant to say was, um..."

The lion wanted to purr as the heat traveled down her chest almost to her breasts, and her pink nipples slowly hardened. Peaked. He groaned and couldn't help it — he took his cock in hand and stroked it, watching her watch him. Christ, she was hot. The hint of uncertainty, as if she hadn't considered how much she affected him, made Sarah Jane even more dazzling. Tate wanted to lay there all day and watch her. "What was that? I'm having trouble concentrating."

Her cheeks turned nearly purple as she bit her lip, still watching his hand move over his dick, and she swallowed hard. The scent of her arousal drifted to him, and he watched Sarah Jane clench her thighs together as her fingers trailed over her stomach. Tate groaned as she flushed more, and his head fell back against the pillows so he could concentrate only on seeing her. "Touch your breasts."

Her breath came faster and something lit her eyes from within as she watched him. For half a second, he thought she might tell him to fuck off and march right into the bathroom, but after a long silence, her lips parted and her hands slid up her sides to her breasts. He had to recall some of his interrogation resistance training to keep from coming all over himself as Sarah Jane sighed and her eyes closed as she squeezed her breasts. He struggled to slow his hand, not wanting to finish immediately, but she was gorgeous as she toyed with one nipple and her head tilted back.

"Pinch your nipple," Tate said, voice rough. God help him. He gripped the headboard until it cracked, just to keep himself from launching across the room to grab her up and pin her against the wall. He wanted to fuck her all day, to surrender himself, to worship at her feet. Get her out of his system in case he had to walk away. At least then he'd have some memories to keep him warm.

Sarah Jane didn't open her eyes but her breath caught, her feet shifting a little as her free hand slid down her stomach to ease between her thighs. Tension gathered low in his back as Tate watched her tentatively tug at her nipple, flushing all the way to the roots of her hair, and Tate held on to control by the skin of his teeth. "More, babe. A little harder."

She obeyed and exerted more pressure on the tender pink flesh, and she gasped, jerking like an electric shock ran through her. Tate cursed and lost control, his hips punching against his fist until he came in a heated rush that made a mess of the sheets. He panted, wanting to apologize to her for being such a selfish ass and losing control, but when Tate managed to open his eyes and the room stopped spinning, he found Sarah Jane watching him as she kept touching herself. Her eyes looked a little wild, as if she couldn't believe it, but one hand twisted her nipple while the other delved deeper in her slick folds.

Tate groaned and his cock twitched, desperate to explore where her fingers teased. Sarah Jane watched him watch her, her lips parted and her breath coming faster and faster, and Tate staggered to his feet. She blinked and backed up a step, bumping into the wall, and Tate dropped to his knees right in front of her. Before she could speak or voice some of the embarrassment that turned her face red, he nudged her thighs apart and lurched forward, hungry to taste her again.

Sarah Jane gasped, leaning back against the wall as Tate edged his shoulder under her knee so he had better access to her pussy. Her fingers anchored in his hair as he devoured her, desperate to feel her channel collapse around his fingers and her juices coat his chin. She cried out and her hips started to move, meeting him and retreating, and he groaned, plunging his fingers into her warm depths. She went up on her toes with a squeal and he wondered if it was too much, but her entire body shuddered and shook and her thighs clenched against his head. Her muscles rippled and pulled at him, coating his hand and face, and Tate growled. He watched her climax, watched her lean against the wall to stay upright, and let her practically ride his shoulder as he envisioned the many, many ways he could please her again.

After an eternity of watching her breasts rise and fall in uneven gasps, Tate wiggled his fingers and she jumped. Sarah Jane flushed again, trying to stand on wobbly legs. "Wow."

"I agree." He steadied her waist as she held on to the wall, and carefully guided her into the bathroom. "I think I ought to clean you up, since I made such a mess of you."

"Clean me up?" Her head tilted as she studied him, then she took a shaky breath as he turned on the water in the shower. "Oh my."

"Oh yes." Tate made sure she had a good grip on the vanity before he retreated to the bedside table to dig up one of the fancy condoms, glad there were a few waterproof options, and returned to the bathroom to pull out the nice towels. Sarah Jane watched him with wide eyes as Tate tested the water and carefully lifted her in before getting into the glass enclosure himself. He winked and put on the condom, kissing the side of her neck as the steamy spray from the showerhead covered them both. "We'll work up an appetite for breakfast."

She murmured something he didn't quite hear, then her arms wrapped around his neck and Tate pressed her up against the tile and lost himself in her once more.

He could have stayed in the shower with her forever, but their stomachs growled and after a few more orgasms, Sarah Jane could hardly stay on her feet. Tate tried to keep the pleased grin off his face as he toweled her off and set out some of his clothes for her to borrow to walk back to Rosie's place. Tate called over to Rosie's to give her a head's up that they would be over to cook breakfast, but she didn't answer her cell phone or the house phone. It wasn't that strange, particularly if she was busy taking care of Dakota or cleaning up around the bar, so he didn't mention it to Sarah Jane once she reappeared from the bedroom, looking shy.

Tate kissed her again, lingering over her soft lips, but broke away when his stomach rumbled again. "I make a mean omelet. I hope you're hungry."

"Starving," she said, and pulled her hair back in a severe bun that gave her a distinct naughty librarian vibe. Tate swallowed back the groan of appreciation, not wanting to make her self-conscious as he helped put her coat on.

He held her hand once they got to the street, and for once, Tate almost didn't mind the snow. He kept her tight to his side, wanting to keep her warm on the short walk to Rosie's, but looked up as a car engine revved on the street. He recognized the SUV immediately and cursed under his breath, releasing Sarah Jane so there was a little distance between them. Sarah Jane looked up at him, curious, but before he could offer an explanation or send her back up to his apartment, the truck slid to a halt in the street next to them and a very pregnant Zoe heaved herself out of the car.

"Thaddeus Mortimer Stewart," she said, pale eyes sending sparks at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Tate bit his lip to keep from warning her about the ice, since his little sister didn't seem in the mood to listen to reason. The lion started growling as Simon got out of the truck and jumped around the hood to keep his wife from falling on her face, and the mountain lion bristled as the other man got too close to his mate.

Simon pretended not to notice, and instead wrapped a scarf around Zoe's neck as he gave Tate a sideways look. "Thaddeus Mortimer?"

"It's a family name, dick." Tate felt Sarah Jane tense next to him, and he squeezed her hand as he tried to keep her behind him. Protecting her from whatever trouble Simon and Zoe brought his way. "What are you guys doing here this early? And without the tourists?"

"We were worried." Zoe stared at him, her breath making huge clouds of white smoke in the freezing air. "Jackass. Your phone cut off and you didn't answer, and then we heard from the sheriff that you crashed your car, and then we
saw
the car and —"

She cut off as her voice cracked and tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks in fat drops that made him feel like a total asshole. Zoe wound up and punched his shoulder, still crying. "I thought you were
dead
. Don't
do
that to a pregnant lady."

Sarah Jane peeked around his shoulder and Simon blinked, gently tugging on his wife's arm until Zoe wiped her cheeks and looked up. "What?"

Simon tried not to smile too much, instead nodding to Sarah Jane. "Good morning. I don't believe we've met. I'm Simon. This angry little wildcat is my wife, Zoe, and Tate's little sister."

Tate gritted his teeth, not wanting to deal with all of the questions Simon and Zoe would undoubtedly have, since Tate didn't know the answers to them yet himself. But Sarah Jane managed to smile, shaking his hand and Zoe's. "Hi. It's nice to meet you. I'm Sarah Jane. Rosie is my godmother; I was staying with her when I met Tate."

Zoe blinked, peering from her to Tate and back again. "You met Tate. You
met
Tate? Are you two — are you dating? Tate? Why didn't you tell me?" And she started to cry again.

Tate took a deep breath, all the way from his toes, and his head fell back so he could stare up at the sky. For the first time in a long time, there weren't any clouds. No more snow, thank God. He rubbed his forehead and held up his hands to cut off whatever Simon was about to say. "Let me explain. But I would rather Sarah Jane get inside to check on her little one, where it's warm. If you two are nice, maybe I'll invite you for breakfast."

Sarah Jane smiled at them, clearly curious about what was going on, but Tate shooed her toward Rosie's. He didn't want her out in the cold, and he didn't want her to deal with the interrogation that would undoubtedly follow.

"Little one?" Simon's eyebrows rose as soon as Sarah Jane was out of earshot and making her way into the back staircase at Rosie's. "What does ‘little one’ mean?"

"She's got a baby girl. They showed up in town a couple of days ago." The mountain lion didn't want to share yet. It was too new, too fragile. Too special. And Tate didn't want Zoe to get attached to the idea of a sister-in-law when he didn't know if things would work out.

"A couple of days?" Zoe smacked his shoulder. "She's got a baby and you're putting the moves on her? Tate, I swear to God —"

"She's his mate." Simon said it so casually that at first Tate hardly noticed, but the words hung in the frozen air between them.