Bear Exposure (Highland Brothers 3) (2 page)

P
resley felt
the pain in her cheek. It throbbed against the bone. She reached for her face when she felt her palm hit a bandage. She sat up. Where in the hell was she?

There was a quilt draped across her body. She turned to see a man sleeping on another couch.

“Holy shit,” she whispered.

Who was he? Where was she?

Her chest heaved as the panic wormed through her. His frame filled the entire couch. His broad shoulders were massive. She didn’t know whether she should scream, run, or duck under the covers and pretend this wasn’t happening.

The last thing she remembered seeing was the deer dart in front of her car and then the ditch. Everything after that was black.

She tried to breathe. As she placed one foot on the floor, she felt her head spin.

“Holy hell,” she muttered. Her head had never felt as if it was a separate part of her body. She tried to sit back down.

The man across from her exhaled.

The room was warm. She tried to figure out where she could be. The house was like a five-star resort lodge. It was beautiful.

If she awakened him, did that put her in more danger? She studied him. The firelight danced across his face. She didn’t want to admit it, but he was ridiculously hot. It wasn’t the time to be attracted to someone. She had just survived a car crash and had no idea where she was. Definitely not the time to notice his square jawline or his dark hair. Or how his five o’clock shadow made him look sexy and rugged.

His chest expanded with breath again and she decided she needed to at least try to figure out where she was. She pushed off the couch, taking her time to gain her balance.

But as the floorboards squeaked under her feet, she heard the rhythm of his breath stop.

She froze.

“You’re awake?” A deep voice filled the room.

Presley turned. She thought she had been terrified when she found out the last guy she dated was in a wolf pack, but she had never felt chills like these in her entire life.

H
e could smell it
. He could see it in her eyes. Fear. She was scared to death. It was the last thing he wanted. He smiled, trying to reassure her he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think so.”

He rose from the couch and she immediately took a step backward. He held out his hand.

“It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“And how do I know that?” she whispered.

“I bandaged your face.” He pointed to her cheek. It was red and puffy. The only imperfection on her flawless body.

“Thanks.” She took another step backward.

Striker couldn’t help it. He moved toward her. He didn’t want her to be afraid. “I saw your car in the ditch and you were passed out. So I brought you here.”

“What about 9-1-1?” she asked.

“I didn’t have cell service on the road, and to be honest I was worried about your cut. It was bleeding pretty badly so I…and there was ice. The roads are getting nasty.”

He couldn’t tell her he didn’t want an ambulance to cart her away. His bear wanted her all to himself.

“And then I fell asleep.”

“My stuff.” She looked panicked. “My wallet?”

“It’s ok. I got everything out of your car. It started smoking and I didn’t want to take a chance it would catch fire and you’d lose everything.”

He heard her sigh. “Thank God. It’s everything I have.”

“It’s still in my car. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I think everything hit me after the adrenaline rush.” He couldn’t tell her part of that rush was feeling her in his arms.

“But my car? You think it’s gone?” Her eyes widened and he thought he saw them glisten.

“I can check for you, but it was smoking pretty badly when I left. Although who knows with the ice and rain.”

She sank to the couch, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders lifted with sobs. “I’m screwed. So screwed.”

Striker felt helpless. He sat next to her as she cried into her palms.

He broke the silence. “How is your face? Do you want something for the pain?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what I want. They’re going to find me. I have no way to get another car.” She sobbed some more.

He reached out to touch her. As his hand landed on her shoulder, he felt the overwhelming instinct to protect her. To help her.

“Who’s going to find you?” he asked.

She sniffed. “Nobody. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She straightened her back.

“Hold on. Let me get you something to drink.” He left her sitting on the couch while he poured a bottle of water in a glass for her.

He sucked in, when he returned and saw her sitting on the edge of the sofa, tears glistening on her cheeks. Her hair flowing around her shoulders. His bear growled. The need to be with a woman had never felt so strong.

“Here you go.” He handed her the water.

“Do you have anything stronger?” she asked.

He blinked. “Like alcohol?”

“Yeah. I’ve had the shittiest day. I need something more than water.”

“Alcohol we have. Hold on. Don’t move.”

Striker walked back to the kitchen. The fridge was empty so he jogged down the steps to the wine cellar. He searched the labels until he landed on a bottle of red. He took it upstairs. He kept checking, but his guest was exactly where he had left her. He popped the cork and poured two large glasses.

He walked to the living room, extending a brimming glass to her.

“How’s this?” he asked.

She smiled, took the glass, and chugged it until the wine was gone.

He stared at her. “That was an ’87 pinot.”

“I’ll take another.” She held the empty glass in the air.

“Um. All right.” Striker refilled her goblet and returned.

“Thank you.” She grinned. “For an ’87 pinot it’s good.”

He chuckled. “You know much about wine?”

She shook her head. “Not a damn thing, but I feel like it’s the only thing holding me together right now.”

He gripped his glass between his hands. “What’s your name?”

“Presley.” She lowered her eyes. “Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you my name.”

“Maybe less wine next time.” He winked at her. “I’m Striker.”

“Striker? Are you using an alias?” She blinked at him in disbelief.

He liked her. She was feisty. His bear was dying to know just how much. “No, that’s my birth name. Striker Highland.”

“This your place?” She looked at the beams overhead.

“It’s a family home. I share it with my two brothers. Occasionally we let the rest of the family crash here at the holidays.” He grinned.

“Where are we exactly?” Her teeth moved over her bottom lip and he felt the urge to kiss her.

He cleared his throat. “We’re about two hours from Seattle.”

“I almost made it.” She sipped the wine. He was glad she was taking it easy on the second glass.

“Almost? Were you headed to the city?”

She nodded.

“Where are you from, Presley?” He liked how her name sounded on his lips.

“I’m in the middle of a move. I’m not from anywhere.” She shifted in her seat.

He knew she was uncomfortable. The whole damn scenario was insane. The car crash. Finding her. Taking her home. Nothing about this was normal.

He wanted to ask why everything she owned was packed in his car. He wanted to know why she was traveling alone.

“Well, I’m from Seattle. I’m a photographer.” He walked behind the couch and grabbed a handful of magazines. He laid them on the coffee table. “Just so you don’t think I’m a serial killer.” He flipped open to the spread he had done for the Zest feature and pointed at his name.

“That’s you?” She held the picture to her face.

“Yep.”

She turned the pages. “This is impressive.”

He tipped the wine glass up and finished off his wine. “Thank you.”

She moved to the next magazine. “How long have you been a photographer?”

“Professionally? Since college. But always. I’ve always loved the art.”

“Hmm. I guess I’ve never thought about it as an art. But it is, isn’t it?” She hadn’t looked up. Her eyes were glued to the pages.

He had to remind himself to breathe. Being this close to the woman who was his mate was enough to make him lose all control. God, her hips were curvy as hell. And the swells of her breasts made him lick his lips. He needed to lock up his bear.

Striker picked up a log and tossed it on the fire. The wood crackled and popped.

Presley settled on to the couch, her shoulders sinking into the cushions.

There was something in the air. He could feel it. His bear could feel it. He wanted this woman. He had to have her. But how in the hell was that going to happen?

P
resley stared at Striker
. The man who had rescued her from her car. The man who had brought her to his lodge in the middle of nowhere. The man who had bandaged her face. The man who was hot as sin.

Her body was exhausted. It ached deep in her muscles. But she realized her situation was desperate. She was stranded. It didn’t sound like there was a car worth towing and she didn’t have insurance or money to cover a new car.

Striker was her only option to get to Seattle.

The air between them felt thick. She knew he was going to ask her to stay before he said the words.

“Look, I’m happy to call a car service or something to get your car, but it’s late. There’s nothing close. No hotels. There’s too much ice on the roads, anyway. I doubt they would try. It’s not safe.”

He ran his hands through his hair. He was obviously struggling with how to approach the question. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? I can bring your things in from the car.”

Her skin tingled. Her heart beat faster. She shouldn’t react like that, she thought, but it was involuntary. It was as if some sort of damsel in distress disease had seized her. She was completely willing to let Striker help her. She never accepted help.

She nodded. “I think that might be best.” She stared into his dark brown eyes. Holy hell. She felt a twinge between her legs. None of this should be happening.

“Good. We’ve got plenty of rooms.” He rushed past her. “I’ll just go to the car. Be right back.” He slammed the door behind him and was gone.

Presley started at the fire. This was crazy. Insane. Ludicrous. But she was doing it just the same. Spending the night in the house with a total stranger. A hot, delicious, built-like-a-god, stranger.

S
triker closed
the car doors and placed the luggage on the front porch then drove his SUV into the garage. He didn’t like leaving his car outside. The driveway would be slick as an ice rink in the morning.

He hadn’t thought how this would go. He didn’t know it was going to be like this when his bear would want someone so strongly he could taste her. He had been looking and searching, hoping the woman for him was nearby.

He carried the suitcases and her purse inside. Presley rose from the couch, taking the bag from his arm.

“I put your phone in there too,” he told her.

She rifled through the bag and sighed with relief.

“Everything ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered, clasping the bag together.

“Good.” He didn’t know how to put her at ease.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Thank you for everything. Pulling me from the car. Bringing me here.” She held up her glass. “The wine.”

He thought he saw a look in her eye. A look that said she was thinking about his lips as much as he was thinking about hers. He dropped the bags next to the staircase.

“You’re welcome. I hope you know you’re safe here.”

She nodded as she walked toward him. His throat tightened. She was standing next to him. All he had to do was reach out and pull her into his arms.

“Thank you for letting me stay.” Her eyes lifted to his and her tongue lightly touched her lip.

He knew his bear didn’t have enough control for this. He was breaking free inside Striker with reckless abandon. He wrapped his arms around Presley, drawing her to his chest.

His mouth swept over hers. As soon as he touched her lips he heard the moan from her throat. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, tasting the wine, as she parted her lips. He moved over her hungrily, sucking, kissing, dipping his tongue deeper. Her hands wrapped around his neck and he felt the softness of her body align with his.

She clung to him while their mouths moved desperate to taste more.

“Oh, God,” he growled in her ear. His hands tangled in her hair.

Her breath turned to raspy gasps. “This is crazy,” she breathed.

She didn’t know half the crazy. His bear had finally awakened to his mate and all he could think about was taking her. Taking her here and now on the staircase. It would be beautiful and glorious. Everything he had wanted. He would fill her with his cubs. He would make her scream his name. Make her beg for more.

He growled again, his hands snaking under her shirt.

“Wait, wait.” She straightened her shoulders. “Too fast. It’s too much. I don’t know you.”

She stepped backward.

Striker looked at her. The desire to claim her, burning him from the inside out.

“I’m sorry.” He wanted to pull her back in his arms. He wanted to taste more than her tongue. “It’s just…you’re so beautiful…I couldn’t think of anything else but kissing you.”

She blushed. “Really?”

He nodded. “And I doubt I’ll be able to think of anything else tonight.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. It might be the only way not to reach out and grab her. He had to get his bear back under control.

She smiled, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you. Thank for you everything.”

He watched as she climbed the stairs.