Roaring for Him (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Wicked in Wilder Book 1) (37 page)

Her new mate, Mitchell.

It was so weird, the words foreign in her mind as she repeated them over and over. As Liv, Phee, Marcia and Emma poked and prodded her for information, she’d been stuck on one simple fact: Mitchell had claimed her. It was real now. Sure, her cat sank her teeth into him, but he could’ve still walked away. Now though… they were inseparable. Their souls were cemented, twined, and tied with each other. There was no pulling them apart.

There was no heartache. No loneliness. No… abandonment.

Mitchell cupped her head and she tilted it back, allowing him to support her as she met his gaze. “Hey,” he murmured. “Missed waking up with you.”

“I missed it too. But the girls…”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t chastising, just telling you. I’ve never fallen asleep with a woman curled up with me like a little kitten and I’ve never woken with her snuggled in my arms. I’ve never wanted to. But you, baby, you make me want so many fucking things.”

He lowered his head, lips capturing hers, and she moaned into the kiss. It wasn’t hot or passionate—wasn’t meant to arouse—but acted as a reconnection. She’d left him sleepy and sated in bed and now they shared the kiss that they should have indulged in when they woke. His tongue was gentle and sweet, lapping at the seam of her lips, and she opened for him. She let him slide into her mouth, taste her, discover her, and his flavors…

Tilly pulled her mouth away from his with a great wrench.

Mitchell growled. “What the—”

“I love you, but oh my God morning breath.” She wiped her lips. “Seriously.”

“You love me?” he murmured, the sound vibrating through her.

“Um…” Mated or not, it was super early to say those three little words. A shifter’s urge to tie themselves to their mate didn’t mean love automatically blossomed. He might not get cold feet and bolt because she told him she loved him, but he could still panic. “Maybe?”

“Fuck yeah, you love me.” Cocky man, party of one.

“Mitchell…”

“Say it again.” He grinned. “Now.”

She grinned. “Say what?”

“You know what,” he rumbled, voice deepening and there was a teasing light in his eyes.

Tilly carefully eased back, putting a hint more space between. Her cat was enjoying the beginning of this game. “Hmm… You have morning breath? I remember saying that.”

“Not the words I’m looking for.”

“Are you sure?” She raised her eyebrows.

“I’m sure. You were ranting the last time you said ’em.” He nodded. “Let’s hear ’em again all on their lonesome.”

This was anything but a male shying away from love, from three words that generally sent men running in the opposite direction. “What kind of incentive is there?”

“I’ll give you an incentive…”

Tilly shook her head. “Uh-huh.”

“Dammit, Tilly.” His eyes blazed amber, his wolf getting frustrated right alongside his human half.

She eased farther back, loving that he was so focused on her mouth he wasn’t paying attention to much else. “Mitchell?” She nibbled her lower lip, teasing him with the flick of her tongue over the damp flesh.

“Yeah, baby? Say it.”

Tilly dropped her voice low into a husky whisper. A quick glance at his cock showed her mate was really enjoying this mini-argument. “I…” She huffed. “Fine. Here it goes… Make me.”

With those two words, she spun and raced for his bedroom—their bedroom. His heavy, pounding tread told her was on her tail, racing with his long strides. She put on a burst of speed, but not too much. She still wanted him to catch her.

Her feet sank into the beige carpet, the soft floor cushioning her rapid steps. She rounded the corner and raced into the bedroom, Mitchell’s warm breath on her neck as he grew even nearer and then she found herself airborne. She flew through the air, Mitchell’s arms holding her close and he thumped onto the bed with a mattress-squeaking bounce.

“Got you,” he growled without any heat. His eyes danced and his lips parted in a wide smile. So while he growled, he loved every second of it.

Love.

“Yeah? What are ya gonna do about it?” she teased him.

“Make you, just like you asked.”

“Yeah? How’s that? I’m a cool customer. I can hold out.” She could bite her tongue and withstand a lot.

Fuck. Wasn’t that a nice bucket of cold water on her desire. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Baby?” His smile slowly slipped and she had no doubt it was in response to hers sliding away. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s…”

“Tell me.”

“That I love you?”

“I wanna hear that too, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” He wasn’t gonna give up. Dammit.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“When it makes your smile disappear it more than matters. It’s fucking imperative I know what makes you sad so I can kill it and bring a smile back to your face.”

That
had her smiling. “You can’t kill everything that makes me sad.”

“Baby, you don’t know who you mated.” He leaned toward her and she met him halfway, kissing his lips softly. “Tell me.”

She swallowed hard. “Sometimes the past bites you in the ass. Saying I can hold out just reminded me of all the times I had to stay quiet. For me, for them, to make it through life.”

“Aw, Tills, you’re killing me.” His words were low and hoarse and she found herself tugged against his chest. “You never have to struggle again. No more tears. No more fighting. My goal in life is to make you so fucking happy you don’t even remember all the shit you’ve lived through.”

Tears gathered in her eyes, moisture blurring her vision. “I don’t wanna forget. Everything—every night I went to bed hungry or worked until my fingers bled—brought me here. To you.”

Mitchell brushed her tears away, thumb sliding them from her cheeks just as quickly as they fell from her lashes. “I’m gonna make you so happy you don’t think about it, then. I can’t regret having you in my arms, and if our fucked up pasts brought us here then something good came outta that hell. But here on out… It’s only smiles.” His was soft, not sad, but not blindingly happy either. “Wanna know what’d really make me happy?”

“What?”

He dropped his voice so low she almost didn’t hear him. “Say it.”

“I love you.”

“Baby, not nearly as much as I love you.”

Then he showed her. He showed her all day and in every position she could imagine. He showed her while he fed her in bed. And showed her even more when he simply held her close as they lazed in the sun as it set, coloring the sky in blazing stripes of pinks and purples.

Now she only hoped her sisters would be half as lucky. Phee’s physical scars would always mar her face, proof of her love and sacrifice. Tilly hoped her youngest sister would find a male who understood Phee’s quirks and could help her gain control of the beast without destroying everything that made Phee… Phee. And honestly, she wasn’t so sure Gabe was that male.

And God, then there was Liv. She wasn’t sure what sent her sister scurrying home, tail between her legs and rage simmering just beneath the surface. All she could do now was keep her close and remind Liv to lean on her. The first step was getting her settled in the small efficiency apartment above the bakery. The second was getting Liv fall-down drunk until she had no choice but to spill her secrets.

When Mitchell turned those eyes on her that shined with love—and desire—she figured she could worry about them later. Like tomorrow. Maybe the day after. Or even the day after
that
. And while she worried about when she’d wish them luck, he tugged on the hem of her top.

“Let me love you, baby…”

She said the only thing she could. “Yes…”

The End

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Ex-dance teacher, former accountant and erstwhile collectible doll salesperson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Celia Kyle now writes urban fantasy (as Lauren Creed) and paranormal romances for readers who:

1) Like super hunky heroes (they generally get furry)

2) Dig beautiful women (who have a few more curves than the average lady)

3) Love laughing in (and out of) bed.

It goes without saying that there's always a happily-ever-after for her characters, even if there are a few road bumps along the way.

Today she lives in Central Florida and writes fulltime with the support of her loving husband and two finicky cats.

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Published by Summerhouse Publishing. Roaring for Him. Copyright © 2015. Celia Kyle. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

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