Page 48 of Bad Blood Bear

Chapter 21

The next morning when Lissa woke up, Tank was gone, but the bed next to her was still warm and his scent clung to it.

She didn’t know what to make of that, or what to do. She and Tank had bared their souls, but she didn’t know how he’d feel about it his morning. She gathered up her clothes and walked across to the cabin, slipping in the back door near Tank’s room. She kind of hoped he wouldn’t finish hooking up the tiny house shower—then she wouldn’t have an excuse to use the fabulous billionaire bathroom any more.

She’d barely made it to the bathroom door when suddenly he was there in front of her, filling the hallway, blocking her way with one hand against the wall.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.” She didn’t know what to say to him. Was he going to pretend nothing had happened, like before?

He was looking down at her, his face scruffy and tired-looking, those gorgeous green eyes soft and concerned. “Say something,” he said.

She looked up at him. Flynn had said not to give him too hard a time, but she couldn’t keep worrying about everything she said being wrong.

“I’m afraid you’re going to get mad again. Or stop talking to me.”

He bit his lip, looking lost and unhappy. “I won’t.” He sighed, and amended it to, “I’ll try not to.”

At least he was being honest.

“Okay,” she said. “When stuff happens between us, good or bad, I can’t pretend like it never did. And I hate walking on eggshells around a guy, trying to figure out if they’re going to explode or not. I did enough of that with my stepfather, and I saw my mother doing it too—looking to him all the time for clues about how she was supposed to be, no matter how she felt or what she needed.”

His eyes were worried, then ashamed. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “But you did. I get you’re going through stuff,” she added. “But either we go through it together—as friends, or…something else—or I don’t think I can stay here.”

He looked down at her, then reached out slowly and touched her cheek. “I don’t want you to go,” he said. “Thinking about it scares me. It scares my bear.”

Relief flooded through her. Despite her words, she didn’t want to go. And her bear didn’t either. “Then what?” she asked.

Tank stroked her cheek with his fingertips, very gently. “I don’t know what this can be,” he said. “I think…I want to be more than friends. But I don’t know how. Angie was my true mate. I don’t—I don’t know what this is.” He trailed his fingers down her neck. “Can we just take it slow?”

She nodded. When he looked at her like this, when he touched her like this, she’d agree to anything, just to keep him close.

She said, “Does that mean I have to take a shower by myself?”

His eyes grew smoky, and his breathing quickened. His gaze dropped to her breasts, and they flooded with heat, her nipples contracting.

He took deep breath, his chest expanding, and then blew it out noisily. “I think probably you’d better. But come out to the kitchen after. Flynn’s making pancakes.”

He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head, and then walked away, turning once to look back at her. She watched his tight, muscular ass in his low-slung jeans, and sighed.

Take it slow.

For the next few days, that’s exactly what they did. They both stuck around the compound—Flynn had decreed that he wanted them there until he was sure their bears had settled enough to be safe out in public.

Tank spent the time working with the crew upgrading the others’ shelters, making sure everything was snug for the winter. It was getting near Thanksgiving, and the weather had turned cold for real. Lissa helped where she could, though her construction skills were minimal. Tank seemed to like having her near him, though, and he taught her some of the basics. He was a good teacher, giving clear instructions and explanations, and patient with questions and mistakes.

He also finished the tiny house, sealing the deck and getting the plumbing all hooked up, although Lissa still used the billionaire bathroom at every opportunity. Every time she entered her little jewel of a tiny house, though, she was filled with gratitude that she wasn’t living all alone in her cold, dark squat anymore, hungry and desperate.

Tank had given her so much more than he could possibly understand.

But taking it slow was sometimes torture. Tank was affectionate and attentive—even bordering on clingy. He was always touching her—a brush of shoulders, a hand at her waist, fingers brushing back her hair. At night they’d talk or read or watch TV in the living room of the cabin, or in her tiny house loft, and he always wanted her snuggled up close to him, sharing a bowl of popcorn or a tub of ice cream.

It was nice—nicer than any relationship she’d ever had—but Lissa wanted more. Being so close to him, feeling those hard muscles and breathing his scent, remembering the feel of his hands and the taste of his skin, him filling her with his hardness, made her feel like she was wet all the time.

She knew Tank thought about it too. Sometimes he’d look at her with that dark, smoky gaze, and it sent shivers right down between her legs. Other times she could see his boner filling his jeans, pressing up against the zipper, and she knew he wanted her too.