Breakwater: Rick (BBW Bad Boy Space Bear Shifter Romance) (Star Bears Book 2) (49 page)

Slade snorted. “Yeah, maybe literally. Stubborn ass.”

“I’d just rather not get us all in trouble or go to jail,” Knox said.
 

“Who’s Greg?” Jasmine asked, wiping away new tears.

“He’s our friend who was in the army,” Beck said. “Luckily, he has plenty of basic medical training and can do stitches. It’s gonna hurt, though. I doubt he has morphine or anything.”

Jasmine sat in the other room while Greg worked on Knox’s wound. Every time he yelled out in pain, she gripped Amir’s hand or Daxton’s hand. Beck and Slade were in there with him, probably holding his hand as he squeezed through the pain, too.

When it started to grow quiet, she heard Greg say, “You’re lucky. It wasn’t bad at all.”

She sagged in relief. He left a short time later, and Knox walked into the living room, leaning toward his injured side.

“We decided it would be best to call about the body tomorrow,” Daxton said. “If it was a real bear attack, we wouldn’t necessarily know right away, and since he was kind enough to not park his car at our house, we wouldn’t know he was here. We’ll say we heard animals in the woods fighting, went to check it out, and found the body.”

Knox nodded. “Sounds good.”

“I wonder if he could be the one who killed the bees,” Beck said. “We found out what caused it. The report came back today. Toxic smoke.”

Jasmine shook her head. “I don’t think he would have been that smart.”

“It does seem a little far-fetched,” Amir agreed.

“I can think of someone who might have had something to do with it,” Daxton said.

“Who?” Slade asked.

“Same people who were pissed when Blair’s store stopped carrying their products. Same people who’ve tried to run us out of business for years.”

“The Harper clan?” Slade asked.

Daxton nodded. “When they found out Blair pulled the SheBear Honey line, her store got egged, and she got threats for weeks. She had to call the cops.”

“I’ll look into it,” Slade said. “Seems like a likely suspect.”

“We’re going to bed,” Knox said. He took Jasmine’s hand and led her slowly up to the bedroom after they’d said goodnight to the guys.

He closed the door behind them and pulled her close. “I will gladly sleep on the floor or downstairs, but I really—”

“No. Please. Stay close.”

He chuckled. “I was going to say that I really want to stay close to you.”

She set her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“I’m sorry you had to do what you had to do. But it’s over now. He can never, ever hurt you again.”

She took in a slow deep breath and wondered how long it’d be before that fact seemed real to her. Knox released her just long enough to slip carefully into bed and pull her close again.

“Tomorrow, I want every detail of what exactly happened,” he said. “I could kick myself for leaving you in the house alone. I just never thought…” He growled softly. “When I saw you run out of the house and him following you, I lost my mind.”

“I’m glad I got out of the house. I didn’t think I was going to get away.” The things that could have happened to her right here in this room... She shivered with the fear of it. But he was right, Darius would never hurt her again.

Knox kissed her, and this time, their kissing became heavy and passionate. His hands caressed her stomach and back. He ran his fingertips over her skin, sending chills of pleasure to replace the chills of fear.

“I want you,” he whispered.

She hadn’t been with anyone but Darius. When she was with him, it was always forceful and often painful. The thought of having sex scared her. But with Knox, she knew it would be different. She felt so safe with him and knew he’d never hurt her. Maybe it could even be good. And she wanted him, too. Her whole body was hot and tingly with his touch.

She dug her fingers into his long hair. “Me too,” she whispered.

“We’ll have to be careful of my wound, but I think we can make it work.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Just… be gentle.”

The look he gave her was so pained and sympathetic at the same time, it melted any hesitation she had left. “I will.” He slipped her over-sized shorts down and touched her.

He was gentle. Almost too gentle. But every time he touched her in a new way, he paused to make sure she was okay. And when he slipped inside her, he did it so slowly, so carefully, that she finally pressed her hips against him to bring him in deeper.

She was surprised at how good it felt. Of course, it was a little awkward with his injury, but that only meant it could get better once he healed. Though, she didn’t see how it could get any better than what he’d made her feel.

When they were finished, and for the first time in her life, she’d felt the rush of pleasure she should have gotten from sex all along, she kissed him up and down his face and neck.

“Was that okay?” he asked.

“Yes, yes.” She laughed. “More than okay.” She rubbed her nose against his and beamed. “I have to tell you. I haven’t known you long, but I think I am falling in love with you.”

He moaned softly and kissed her. “Good, because I’m falling for you, too. I was thinking about something.” He paused to brush a stray hair from her face. “I hate the thought of you going back to that shelter. Move in here, with me.”

“Really? Are you sure?” She hated living in the shelter and even though she made good money now, the thought of having her own place all alone was daunting and gave her anxiety. If she moved in with him, she would feel safe all the time.

“I’m very sure.”

“But what about the others?”

“Already talked to them.”

“You did?” So, this wasn’t a new idea.

“Right after I found out you were staying there.”

She smiled again and felt tears that were tears of joy. “I would love to.”

“Perfect. Then you’ll never be far from me again.”

Ben

Bear Dating Agency II

by

Becca Fanning

When Layla Moss checked out cute guys in her department store, they weren’t usually in the pantyhose section.
 

This one was as fine as they come, barely twenty with a boyish dimple in the corner of his thoughtful mouth. His hair was dark and a little overgrown, eyes hooded by a low, concerned brow. He was studying the varieties of pantyhose with deep intent, his massive torso hunched a little to inspect the rows and rows of boxes. Layla was supposed to be taking new stock to fill the display next to the registers, but she’d stopped in her tracks when she saw him. Now, she was helpless to her own will.

“Just a guess, but I don’t think we stock your size,” she quipped.

The hunk started, as if he hadn’t even realized she was there. When he looked up, his wide gaze of shock flashed with pure gold. Layla jumped too at that. She knew what golden eyes meant, everyone who lived Crenshaw-adjacent did. The guy was a shifter. And yet, he wasn’t anything like the animalistic thugs she’d seen on her streets late at night. He wasn’t foaming at the mouth or searching for a fight. He was genuinely embarrassed to be holding a pack of pantyhose, his cheeks flushing red beneath a dusting of stubble.

“My Gram sent me over here,” the shifter explained, his voice low and apologetic. “I have no idea which of these she wants, but she’s all the way at the other end of the store. Could you-?”

He trailed off, but Layla saw his eyes flash to her name tag. A rush of something totally chemical hit her in the chest, spreading warmth from all angles. She was pretty sure her face was turning pink too, and she thanked her luck that she’d got a little of that cocoa-brown skin tone from her father. Being mixed race covered a multitude of sins. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop her breath hitching like a teenager’s when she next tried to speak.

“She’ll, uh, she’ll want breathable in the summer,” Layla began. She came to stand beside the tall guy, gently taking the box from his hands. “You’ll bake her with those.”

“Ah,” he replied, “I so don’t want that. She’s a real beast when she’s angry.”

Layla looked into the stranger’s golden eyes with fascination.

“I can believe it,” she said.

She might have said more, even teased that secret smile from the cutie’s perfect mouth, but footsteps alerted her. She was relieved to see that the person approaching was not her boss, but this second stranger filled her with nerves all the same. He had golden eyes too, though his seemed to burn with a flame that wasn’t present in the cute guy’s eyes. The new man was a little shorter and more lithe, his lean frame clad in bike leathers. He had bright silver hair, which must have been fake, for he was far too young to be turning grey, and there was a look of deep threat all over his face.

He was looking at the guy beside Layla. But, when she turned to her handsome new friend, she found that he was gone.

One month later.

In the life of a twenty-three year old shop girl, cuties come and go. Layla had pretty much forgotten her strange encounter with the two shifters in the ladies’ underwear section, and she’d taken her much-needed vacation time to go out to the wilds of Fairhaven. She’d been to the park once before, when she was a kid and Dad was still around, but her memory had not been able to fully capture the place’s stunning beauty. It felt so much safer than the concrete jungle at home, and the air was peaceful and still.

“Woo! This place is hotter than hell, girl,” Brent exclaimed for the world to hear.

Brent Masters was Layla’s gay best friend, an up-and-coming stylist who’d just moved out to West Hollywood. He was also the bankroll for her vacation, which included the luxury suite in the Old Spring Lodge at the very south tip of the park. Layla wouldn’t dare complain about Brent spoiling the peace, or about the lurid lime green sweat-suit he’d put on to take a run. She was just grateful to be out in the fresh air, away from the city and her sadness. Or somewhere to distract her from the sadness, at least.

“Let’s get going,” Layla said with a stretch of her arms. “I wanna do the whole south circuit before lunch.”

Brent nodded with great enthusiasm, but Layla was pretty sure her skinny friend would duck out and claim an emergency Mojito break before they’d even got half-way. Still, Brent was fun to run with, and he always had fabulous gossip about the drag queens and minor celebrities that came to his salon. As they began their run at a steady pace, Layla started to question him for the latest juice.

“Sorry honey, that’ll have to wait,” Brent said, a mysterious glint already forming in his blue eyes. “This vay-cay is about you, and I’ve got serious news.”

Layla pushed her dark curls back, tucking them into her sweatband as she picked up the pace.

“News about me?” she pressed.

“You remember my homegirl Karina Vasquez?” Brent began.

“The one with the dating agency,” Layla replied, nodding as she ran.

“Well, she’s got clients all the way out here in Fairhaven,” Brent continued, his voice ever-more enthused. “None for me, unfortunately, but one for you. I’ve booked you on a blind dinner date tonight! Go get yourself a hunky outdoorsman, girlfriend.”

A laugh escaped Layla, so merry that it caught her breath and she had to slow down a little. She clutched at her chest with one hand, the other waving a warning finger at her mischievous friend.

“He’d better be cute,” Layla warned. “If he’s not cute, I’m gonna set you up with Larry from accounts.”

Brent’s sneer was priceless, and Layla laughed again. They were chuckling so hard that neither of them spotted the Land Rover coming down the path ahead. The screech of brakes alerted them when it was almost too late, and Layla leaped out of the way as the vehicle came to a sudden halt.

“Runners have to keep right on the roadway, ma’am,” said a low, polite voice from inside the shiny white car.

Something sparked in Layla’s chest, though she couldn’t place what it was. She approached the tinted windows, and the driver’s side window rolled down with a buzzing sound. Inside, there was a face framed by dark hair and stubble, with a thoughtful little dimple hiding in the corner of a perfect mouth.

“No way,” Layla murmured in amazement. “You’re Pantyhose Guy.”

Brent passed a quizzical eye over the stranger.

“Maybe there’s someone for me here after all,” he mused.

“No,” Layla chuckled, slapping his arm. “I mean, this... uh, gentleman, was in my store a couple weeks back. He had to buy hose for his grandmother.”

“That’s what they all say, darling,” Brent replied.

Layla looked into the golden gaze of the shifter, and those same warm feelings flushed into her chest. After a moment, she frowned a little.

“Ah, you don’t remember,” she said more quietly. “Nobody remembers the shop girl. It’s cool.”

“No, I remember,” the stranger said. His voice had a sudden panic, like he didn’t want her to leave. “You’re Layla.”

He’d read her name tag, she remembered that. When Layla grinned, the shifter did too, and they remained beaming at each other for a moment.
 

“This is the part where you give her your name, handsome,” Brent prompted.