Page 59 of Bad Blood Bear

“I want to be inside you,” he ground out. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

She smiled down at him, her hair in a tangle and her breasts looking good enough to eat. She leaned down and kissed him, deep, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him. “Tease,” he muttered against her mouth.

She laughed and bit his lower lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood. His bear growled, loving it. “Bitey,” he said. “Sexy.”

She grinned at him, then rose up off him and positioned his cock at her entrance. She lowered herself slowly down, sheathing him, and he groaned at the feel of it.

Lissa wanted to die with ecstasy as Tank’s huge cock filled and stretched her. She went slow, rocking her hips, and he closed his eyes with the intensity of it.

He was making her feel like no one ever had. His scent, his touch, was fulfilling her in a way that had never happened before.

When he filled her completely, she rested her hands on his chest and raised her hips, then slowly let him slide inside her and fill her again. She kept up the slow rhythm, letting the feeling build.

He gazed into her eyes, watching her, his eyes going half-lidded with pleasure every time she bore down on him and he was buried inside her. His hips moved with the rhythm, thrusting as she moved, and she wished she could just stay like this forever.

Gradually, the rhythm grew faster, and she could feel her climax building. Tank was gasping, thrusting harder, holding onto her hips. He moved one hand so his thumb was on her clit, stroking it with every thrust.

Oh. My. God. Lissa threw her head back, the feeling so overwhelming she could hardly stand it. Tank was creating the rhythm now, holding her back, each thrust and touch such an exquisite pleasure it was almost pain.

It went on and on until she lost track of time, of herself, of everything except the feel and scent and heat of his skin. Finally, he deepened his thrusts, stroking her clit faster and harder until her orgasm exploded.

Tank pulled her down against his chest and wrapped one hand around her ass, thrusting into her harder and harder, groaning, bracing his heels against the mattress. Lissa’s orgasm went on and on, building again, until he tensed and she felt his cock pulsing inside her, and he held her hips against his with every pulse, drawing wave after wave of ecstasy from her body and soul.

Afterwards he lay curled around her, stroking his fingers down the side of her neck, across her shoulders, tracing the lines of her collarbone, as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

Lissa wanted to burrow inside him and just stay there forever, safe and warm. But she couldn’t, because he couldn’t ever have another mate. And she could never be like Angie, someone who just loved him and was uncomplicated.

But her heart ached with wishing it could be.

After a while he got up and got a towel, wiping himself off and cleaning her gently. Then he tucked her underneath the covers and climbed in next to her, snuggling up to her again and stroking her back.

She said to him, “You told me you have a lot of tiny house sketches. Are they private? Or could I see them?”

His hands stilled, and he hesitated a moment. Then he said, “You really want to? I haven’t shown them to anyone.”

That made her want to see them even more. If she couldn’t have his heart, she wanted to be the only one he shared his secret dream with. That was almost as good.

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and then rolled over and leaned out of bed to grab a sketchbook off the long low shelf under the window.

“This is it,” he said.

He pushed up until he was leaning against the headboard, and pillow at his back. He pulled Lissa to him, tucking her underneath his arm so she could lean against his chest.

The he opened the book.

Lissa gasped. The sketches were captivating. Fairy-tale cottages, tiny Victorian houses complete with turrets, a tiny castle, a gypsy wagon, and a mini cathedral with tiny gargoyles at the corners. Each one was more charming than the last, with stained-glass windows, pointed doors, and other exquisite details.

“Oh my gosh, I want to live in every single one of them,” Lissa breathed. “Can I have them? Please?”

Tank grinned. “How are you planning to live in all of them?”

Lissa leaned back against him. “I’m going to have a different one for every day of the week,” she said. “Monday will be castle day. Tuesday will be gingerbread cottage day. Wednesday is gypsy day. And of course the cathedral is for Sundays, and I will be very grave and pious, except when people annoy me—like Xander—and then I’ll send the gargoyles after them. It’ll be awesome.”

Tank was laughing, a comfortable rumble in his chest. “And how am I supposed to run a business if I’m spending all my time building you a fleet of tiny houses?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Lissa said. “I have faith in you.”

She continued to turn pages. “Seriously, though, you could make a fortune selling these,” she said. “People would come from all over the country, I bet. Especially with the quality of craftsmanship I’ve seen in the one I’m living in.”