Bear Exposure (Highland Brothers 3) (4 page)

S
triker felt
something warm and soft against his chest. His eyes opened. It wasn’t a dream. Presley was real and she was lying in his arms.

She breathed lightly, her shoulders rising and falling. Her blond hair cascaded over her collarbone, covering her breasts.

God, she was fucking incredible. The way she tasted. The way she let him fuck her until the sun came up.

He groaned. He had always wanted to claim his mate. He knew it wouldn’t be like anything before. It wasn’t sex. It wasn’t getting drunk and hooking up at the end of a date. It wasn’t a one-night stand. It was forever.

His bear growled. He was ready to do it again. He felt the energy course through his limbs. He needed her again. He was desperate for her. Hungry to be inside her.

He brushed the hair from her neck, stirring her. He saw the smile on the corners of her lips. Oh, those soft, luscious lips of hers.

“Good morning.” He rolled her under him.

She grinned. “Good morning.”

His bear felt good, satisfied. He felt the hardness bulge between his legs, as he nudged her knee to the side.

Her breath caught as her eyes filled with lust.

He waggled his eyebrows. She immediately smiled and slipped her arms around his neck.

Her legs wrapped around his waist and she drew his erection against her slick folds, grinding her hips into his.

“Fuck,” he growled into her neck.

She was hot and wet and he wasn’t going to wait another second to be inside her. He pulled up, pushing himself into her heat.

“Oh, Striker,” she cried.

He knew it was intense for her, but she smiled as they found their rhythm and he pumped against her harder. She clawed at his back, lifting her hips higher, begging for him to make her come.

He smiled, knowing she was a good mate. Coming when he commanded. Offering her body in every way.

“Please, please,” she whimpered. “I need it. I need to feel it.”

“Oh I want you to come, baby.” His teeth nipped at her shoulder. “Come for me like that.”

When he knew they both needed their release, he slammed into her roaring over the bed. She came undone in his arms. Her body quivering. Her core wrapped around his cock, vibrating and pulsing. He held her in his arms while she convulsed around him, accepting his shifter essence, sucking it deep in her body. It was fucking ecstasy.

He knew he had found everything he had been looking for in a mate. Presley was the one. He collapsed on top of her, finding sleep again, while his body filled hers.

P
resley opened her eyes
. Striker was asleep. She had managed to push him off of her. He didn’t realize how heavy he was against her. His arm draped over her stomach.

The sun was filtering through the blinds. She had no idea what time it was, only that she had never spent a night like that in her life. She felt different. She felt as if her body hummed with something musical. Was it possible there was more to this than amazing sex?

She watched him sleep and planned a strategy of how to creep out of bed without waking him. She lifted his hand, rolled away, then placed it on the pillow. Striker took a deep breath, but didn’t stir.

She tip-toed to the bathroom. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like. She imagined her body had to be bruised and raw from the way she let him handle her, but stared in the mirror. Her cut was almost completely healed.

It wasn’t red or swollen. She pulled the butterfly bandage from the gash. How was that possible?

She felt her neck where she remembered Striker’s teeth pressing against her skin. It wasn’t red. Her thighs, her stomach, her breasts all looked perfectly fine.

For an instant she wondered if she really had dreamed the entire scenario, but she turned from the bathroom and spotted her naked host sprawled across his bed. No, it wasn’t a dream. Every bit of it had happened.

She crept back to her room where she could shower and change before Striker woke up. She hesitated when she saw her phone. She picked it up, counting five more missed calls from Colton. Shit.

She turned it off. She didn’t want to know if he called. He wouldn’t find her. She was safe here with Striker.

As she stood under the water, she realized she needed a plan. She had to stay off the pack’s radar. She wondered how long Striker was staying at Highland House. She wondered if she could stay. It was worth trying.

For the first time since she had discovered the pack’s existence, she felt safe. She felt protected. It sounded crazy, but after last night she felt as if Striker would guard her body with everything he had.

She giggled as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair. It did sound crazy. If the only thing she got out of this was sex and a safe place to stay for a few nights, it would be ok. She wasn’t looking for anything when she left Cover City other than a new start. A start that didn’t involve her sacrificing her life.

She lathered body wash in her hands and covered her body in bubbles. She felt a brief stab of regret for not using protection last night, but it was spontaneous and passionate. She’d try to bring up condoms if they ended up in bed together again.

She stepped out of the shower.

“Presley? Presley?” Striker’s voice sounded frantic.

“In here,” she called.

“Hey.” He grinned.

He was wearing the pajama pants from last night. Damn, he was delicious. She was reminded why condoms seemed like a terrible idea when she was naked with him.

“Thought I’d take a shower.” She wrapped a towel around her chest.

“Sorry I missed it.”

She ran another towel over her hair, shaking the water from the ends.

“I’ll make us some breakfast.”

“Breakfast? You cook?” Her stomach lurched. She hadn’t eaten anything since she hit the road.

“Don’t get too excited. I don’t know what’s here. I didn’t prepare to entertain.”

Her eyes hit the floor. “Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t do that.” He walked to her, dragging her into his arms. “I’m glad.” He kissed her forehead.

God, this man was amazing. “I am too.”

“I like being iced in with you. You kept me warm all night.” He winked.

She hadn’t known him twenty-four hours. She wasn’t about to tell him the things bubbling in her chest.

“Meet me downstairs.” He turned from the bathroom.

Presley let a sigh escape. He felt real. He looked real. But she knew it wasn’t possible. Perfect guys didn’t materialize out of thin air. She was a bartended on the run. There was no way this fairytale was coming true.

S
triker opened the pantry
. He had to figure out something to feed her. She would need food and strength. He had claimed her twice. If he was lucky, she was already carrying his cubs.

He had always wanted a big family. Lots of cubs. More Highlands running through the woods. He wanted to teach them about embracing their bear. About controlling the animal within. This was what he always wanted.

He could picture big family Christmases with Presley, surrounded by their cubs. Camping trips. Vacations. All of it.

He heard Presley’s footsteps in the hallway and looked up to see her enter the kitchen.

“Breakfast might have to be frozen waffles.” He shrugged.

She giggled. “I think frozen waffles will work.”

“I’ll order grocery deliver today.” He pulled the cardboard box from the freezer and set the dial on the toaster oven.

“Delivery? Are we near a town? I thought this was the middle of nowhere.”

“I’ll have someone from the Highland office bring things. Tell me what your favorite foods are. I’ll get anything you want.”

“You have someone who will drive two hours with groceries?”

He nodded. “I did mention last night I’m Striker Highland.”

She stared blankly. “Sorry, am I supposed to know your name?”

He chuckled. “Actually, it’s kind of nice that you don’t.”

“But I guess most girls do?” she asked.

“Some.” He eyed her.

“But it must mean something if you have grocery delivery service.”

“Yeah I have some money. The family has a staff that handles things for us. I can get you anything you need.”

“And who is us?” She sat at one of the barstools, while he placed the waffles on the toaster rack.

“My brother Crawford is an architect in Seattle. And my brother Hudson is an author.”

“Hudson Highland is your brother?” Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

“Yep. The one and only.”

He closed the door on the toaster. Most women he dated knew he was a famous photographer. They had seen his exhibits or knew his byline in magazines. Everything about Presley was refreshing. It made sense she was his mate. He was pleased with his bear.

“Wow. That’s quite a family.”

“It has its downsides. Tell me about your family.” He walked to the pantry. He knew he had seen a jar of honey in here somewhere.

She bristled, twisting her hair furiously through her fingers. “I don’t have family.”

He eyed her. “No family?”

“No. My parents died when I was in high school. It’s just me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked around the kitchen. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

He sensed the change of subject was because he had struck a nerve. Family was everything to him. They did need to discuss the next few, though. He was glad she brought it up.

Now that he had found her, he wasn’t going to let her go. She was his mate. His everything. He hoped, the mother of his cubs.

“I don’t have a plan.” He moved a bag of flour out of the way. “I sort of took off from a shoot for a few days.”

“What kind of shoot?”

“For Zest magazine.”

“You’re kidding me. And you left?”

He grabbed the jar and placed it on the counter in front of her. “I brought my camera here. Thought I’d try to find my inspiration again. Sometimes it helps getting away from the city.”

She lowered her eyes. “I think I know that feeling.”

Her words pulled at his chest. He felt his bear stir.

The toaster dinged and Striker placed the hot waffles on a plate. “Sorry about the breakfast, but there is coffee.” He handed her a plate and turned to pour a cup of coffee.

“What kind of pictures do you like to take?” she asked, biting down on her fork.

“Want to see?”

“You have some here other than the magazines?”

“Yes. I used to develop film. I thought it was more real. The textures. The process. I love it. I have a darkroom next to the wine cellar.”

Her eyes widened. “Wine cellar? This place has everything. Except food.” She giggled.

“I’ll get the food by tonight. Come on.” He led her away from the kitchen and down the stairs.

He threaded his fingers through hers, tugging her against his back. They descended the staircase and Striker opened a door at the other end of the cellar.

This was the first time he had let anyone see his darkroom. But, Presley was his mate. He was going to share his entire life with her. This seemed like a good place to start.

S
triker revealed
a revolving door on the other side of the wine cellar.

“Step in here and just push until you’re on the other side,” he instructed.

She did as he told her and emerged in total darkness. She felt quick prickles of fear, but within seconds Striker was behind her. She felt his arm slide against her stomach, and then the room was thrown into shades of red light.

Her shoulders relaxed. Just being next to him quieted her anxiety.

“I haven’t been down here in ages.” He moved around, shoveling piles of photo paper onto the table so she could sit on a stool.

“This feels like we’re in an underground bunker or something.” She looked around the room.

“I have to have the door to keep light out. If someone goes in the cellar and flips on a light anything I’m working on would be ruined. It’s an extra precaution.” He held a photograph to his face.

The room smelled earthy like the cellar, but there was a hint of a chemical odor. She saw rows of canisters on the shelves behind him.

He handed her one of the sheets. “This was something I worked on.”

She studied the picture. It was a hiker on the edge of a cliff. The expression on his face was one she recognized. Desperation. Fear.

“How did you capture this?” She turned to look at him.

“I saw him from a distance when I was hiking. He looked lost. He looked like a man running from his soul.”

“I can tell.” She wanted to touch the lines on his face, but she knew better than to get her prints on the page.

“And there’s this one.” He handed her another shot.

It was a shot pointed straight down the side of a ravine. Presley felt slightly queasy. “It’s like I could fall over the side. This had to be dangerous.”

He chuckled. “It made you feel something didn’t it?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “They’re incredible.”

They all did. She looked at the prints dangling from the strings. They were amazing. Each one drew a different emotion from her. She walked toward one of a girl with dark hair, leaning over a balcony railing.

Striker reached in front of her and snatched it from the lineup. He tossed it in a bin in the corner.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Nobody. Someone I used to date.”

“Nobody?”

It was sudden and violent, but the jealousy seized her. Her eyes narrowed at the crumpled photo. She had no right. No reason, but she suddenly hated the girl in the picture. She didn’t like the idea of Striker being with someone else. After last night she felt like she belonged to him. It didn’t make sense, but every part of her felt as if he owned her body.

“Ok. Not nobody. But it’s been over awhile.”

“How long ago?” She couldn’t help but ask. Suddenly, Striker’s love life was her number one interest.

“What?”

“The girl in the picture.”

“Six months ago. She’s not important, Pres.”

She sat on a stool, watching him leaf through a stack of pictures.

“What about now?”

“Are you asking if I’m in a relationship?” His pupils darkened and the corners of his eyes creased.

“Yeah. What’s your status?”

It might have been a good question to ask before jumping in bed with him, but it wasn’t as if this was a normal way to meet someone. Everything that had happened between them had been sheer physical impulse. The ice storm. The accident. It was one big set up.

“I’m not seeing anyone.” He grinned. “Until now.”

She felt the flutter in her stomach. Holy shit. “Oh.”

“What about you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.” She couldn’t describe it, but she had a feeling he already knew she was completely available.

She turned toward the revolving door.

“Do you ever get claustrophobic down here?”

“No, I like it. Kind of cozy like a cave don’t you think?”

The red light made the room feel as if they were in a secret vault or maybe a submarine. Presley felt her lungs taking shallow breaths.

Striker continued. He didn’t notice her breathing pattern had changed. “But I don’t work with film like I used to. I think maybe that’s what’s missing.” He reached in a cabinet and pulled out a couple of rolls of film and a large camera.

Presley’s hand flattened against the wall. It felt too small. The space was closing in on her.

“Pres?” She heard Striker’s voice and then the red faded to black.

S
he opened her eyes
. She was in his bed again. She looked up, startled his eyes were on her.

“You’ve got to stop doing that.”

“What?” She sat up.

“Passing out on me.” He brushed the hair from her face. “Why didn’t you tell me you were claustrophobic? I would never have taken you to the darkroom.”

“I didn’t know. It sort of hit me out of nowhere.”

He reached for her hand, and traced a line on her palm. The motion sent chills up her arm.

“How do you feel now?”

“I’m fine. Embarrassed, but fine.”

She noticed the camera next to the bed.

He followed her eyes. “I thought I might take a hike today and try a few shots on film. Being in the darkroom reminded me how much I enjoy developing my own work.”

“Oh, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Want to join me?”

She looked out the window at the icicles dripping from the tree limbs. It was warm and soothing under the covers. Striker had started another fire in the fireplace.

“I was thinking I might try reading one of Hudson’s books. Why don’t you go and I’ll hang here?”

She didn’t want to get out of bed. As a matter of fact, she would have been happy if Striker had climbed in bed with her, but she could tell he was distracted by the camera.

He kissed her forehead. “All right. I’ll call in the delivery before I leave. I might be gone a couple of hours, so just let the driver in. He knows where everything belongs. He’ll put it away for you.”

She sat forward in bed. “Wow. He’ll do that?”

“Oh, yeah. If there is something I forgot just tell him.”

“Ok.”

“Hold on. Don’t move.” Striker walked out of the room and returned with an armful of books. He placed them on the bedside table. “Here is Hudson’s complete collection.”

She reached for the one on top. “I think I’m set.”

He looped the camera around his neck. “Need anything else?”

She shook her head. If she told him she wanted him it might sound desperate. An afternoon curled up in his bed with a good book while it was icy and cold outside sounded like heaven. She’d keep it warm for him.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She wondered if he was reading her thoughts. Was it written all over her face that she wanted him again?

He took the camera off his neck, placing it back on the table. His eyes locked on hers, burning with lust.

She sighed as his mouth moved to her neck. His teeth pressed against her throat. He shoved the books to the floor as he climbed on top of her.

“I think I need something before I go,” he growled.

“What’s that?” she breathed.

“You.”