The Billionbear's Bride: BBW Bear Shifter BWWM Paranormal Romance Page 3

  "That's all I want, too," he said, clearing his throat and looking away. It took her a moment to realize he was picking up the thread of their conversation from a few minutes before. "To take care of my family—that's what this is all about."

  Violet believed him, trusted him instinctively.

  "I want to be clear about this." His face grew serious. "This is strictly a marriage on paper. I don't expect anything from you other than what's necessary to—well, to fool my family. No sex, no pressure."

  Even as she knew this was reasonable and important to establish, a tiny spear of disappointment stabbed through her commonsense. She brushed it aside and repeated her mantra. "Of course. No sex, no feelings, no complications."

  "Exactly. I like you," he added unexpectedly. "I trust you. And I trust Wanda's judgment."

  "She's good people," Violet agreed. Every one of her instincts told her it was foolish—foolish to get involved with this man like this, given the power of the attraction he had over her already. It wasn't going to end well; she was getting in over her head—but she needed this.

  Jana needed this, she corrected herself. "And … I feel the same way."

  Dangerous words.

  A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "So we have a deal?"

  He held out his hand—this time to shake.

  "It's a deal," she promised.

  The moment his skin touched hers, she felt a shock like a jolt of electricity straight into her skin. Not just static—something deeper, more elemental than that. Barely holding in a gasp, she looked up at Bruce reflexively.

  He looked utterly stunned. Like he had felt it too, whatever it was. They didn't shake—his hands held hers in his warm grip for several long moments.

  "It's a deal, then," he said, sounding dazed, and that couldn't be from her, she thought; there was no way a man like him would be affected by Violet.

  Fumbling for something to say, she pulled her hand from his grasp. Reality reoriented herself.

  "So," she said finally, "how does this work? What's the next step?"

  He paused. "Have you ever been to Las Vegas?"

  Violet pictured strippers, Elvis impersonators, and neon lights. And now, apparently, her wedding; that was harder to imagine. "I haven't had the pleasure."

  "Vegas is all about pleasure," he said, and the deep timbre of his voice sent shivers up her spine and down her center.

  Violet swallowed. "Is that so?"

  "I'll have to show you." His smile promised he would.

  She was in over her head, all right.

  He walked her back to her car. He was a gentleman, opening her door for her and closing it gently after she had tucked herself into the driver's seat. She could feel his own smile mirrored on her face. They exchanged phone numbers; Violet had to remind herself forcefully that this was not a first date and she was not giddy with the promise of a relationship.

  In. Over. Her. Head.

  Chapter Four

  Bruce

  Bruce barely remembered making the travel arrangements, so dazed was he by meeting Violet.

  By meeting his mate.

  He'd felt an inexplicable draw to her as soon as he'd seen her in the diner, her thoughtful, serious gaze out the window arresting him in his tracks.

  While they'd been sitting together at the table, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the smooth skin of her neck, how the neckline of her shirt creased in the middle as she leaned forward, exposing the delectable line of her cleavage.

  That had been nothing, it turned out, compared to watching her hips sway as that flowered skirt swished around her while they walked.

  And her husky voice—it had sent a bolt of arousal straight to his cock.

  Fortunately, she didn't seem to have noticed his embarrassing predicament. But it wasn't just pure animal magnetism, either—though there was plenty of that. When she'd told him about her sister, he heard the love and protectiveness in her voice, the same love and protectiveness he felt for his family and his clan. Right there he'd wanted to offer her whatever she needed or wanted—money, a chauffeur for her sister's treatments, even an illegal black market kidney—just to make her pain go away.

  But he hadn't known she was his mate until they'd touched, and he'd felt that indescribable electric current flow between them. His bear had roared his approval.

  He'd always heard stories about how it happened, but his imagination had nothing on the sheer reality and certainty of it rolling over him in a wave.

  His mate. What were the odds? Incalculably long, surely.

  All thoughts of marrying for the alpha position had been wiped out of his head. What a fool he'd been to think he could marry just anyone and tough it out if he found his mate afterward.

  He'd gone in expecting a business partner—nothing more, nothing less. A simple, uncomplicated transaction. Instead he was beset by new problems. Violet didn't know about bears or mates. She wasn't interested in a relationship, just in taking care of her sister.

  He had to win her over. He needed her to stay with him. He needed a plan.

  * * *

  "Ready to get married?" Violet asked. She tipped her sunglasses back and regarded him with a question in her eyes—whether he'd changed his mind about all of this. His bear growled in internal denial.

  "I'm ready if you are."

  They were at the airport. He hadn't seen her since their first meeting; they had hammered out the details over email. Bruce had longed to call her, to hear her voice again—but he had contented himself with imagining seeing her again. He was going to turn a fake relationship into a real one.

  They were leaving or a three-day "honeymoon," returning home just in time for his birthday. He'd even done the online pre-application for the marriage license beforehand. He wanted to save as much time as possible so that he and Violet could spend as much of their "honeymoon" together as they could. He had booked them a room at the swankiest hotel he could find. He didn't yet know what Violet wanted to do—go to a casino, to a show, out to eat—but he'd prepared for any contingency.

  When he'd seen her in the terminal, his bear had reacted as strongly the second time as the first—a full-throated rumble of desire and possession. Violet's generous curves and dark skin stood out to him among the same-faced sea. She was standing with a small carry-on and a purse, looking around—looking lost. Bruce's bear had rumbled protectively at the sight.

  She was as gorgeous as the day they'd met in the park. All over again he found himself stunned: She was his mate? With her luscious curves and sweet smile? He was a lucky bear. Against the drab gray of the airport, she was color and life itself, vibrancy and beauty embodied.

  As they walked, Violet was quiet. He didn't know what had happened during their almost-kiss to make her pull away—but apparently it was still there.

  If it was even an almost-kiss. Maybe it had all been in his imagination; doubts whispered in the back of his mind. After all, she wasn’t looking for a mate, or a lover. He didn’t know what she felt—if she felt—anything at all for him.

  Their flight was a short one. When they checked into their hotel room, her surprise at their surroundings was palpable.

  "I figured we should go all out," he murmured in her ear as they walked toward the elevator.

  "Yeah, no kidding," she said faintly, not seeming to mind his closeness.

  The room itself—or rather rooms, as he'd booked the honeymoon suite for them—was impressive to say the least. It wasn't much to his taste, as he preferred homey and cozy to sleek and modern and chrome, but Violet seemed impressed, even taking her shoes off to feel the plush ivory shag carpet beneath her toes with a giggle.

  To Bruce, however, it didn't hold a candle to Violet herself, who examined each room with a wonder that made Bruce see it in a different, renewed light himself.

  "That is one fancy showerhead," she remarked, emerging from the bathroom. "I didn't even know they could have that many settings."

  The bathroom was
so big, in fact, they'd also sunk a tub—more like a Jacuzzi—into the floor and there was still plenty of room for them both. It was an intimate setting—a place a couple might share a bubble bath together, lit by candlelight.

  A real couple. Which, he reminded himself, they were not.

  The last room they explored was the bedroom. In it was a massive California king with a plush bedspread, strewn with fresh rose petals. In the middle of the bed was a silver tray with ornate filigree bearing a bottle of wine, some chocolates, and a small card. Violet picked it up and flicked it open.

  "Congratulations on your nuptials," she read aloud. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to let us know."

  She sat herself gingerly on the edge of the bed, like it was going to bite her. Her hand hovered over the chocolates before finally selecting one. She unwrapped it slowly, and he watched, entranced. His gaze was locked with hers. Her lips parted to take it in, her tongue darting out—Bruce's pants became uncomfortably tight at the sight.

  She half-closed her eyes in an expression of ecstasy. Bruce's bear rumbled with the desire to have her, to take her right on this bed, tray of goodies be damned.

  She moaned, the sound low and urgent, and the sound drove him wild. Half-consciously he stepped forward, closing the gap between him. Her eyes darted up to him from underneath her lashes, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips as their gazes met.

  Electricity sparked between them. As if compelled, Bruce raised his hand to stroke his knuckles down the side of her face. She inhaled softly at his touch, going still.

  She half-rose as if to meet him, meet his desire with her own—

  Then Violet dropped her gaze and turned away slightly. Rejected. Again. He dropped his hand. An air of awkwardness replaced the crackling tension between them.

  Bruce cleared his throat and put some distance between them. "Is there anything you'd like to do while we're here? In Vegas, I mean. We'll go to the courthouse tomorrow, but today we're home free."

  They had three days to kill, after all. On Wanda's advice , he had booked tickets for Cirque du Soleil. She'd always wanted to see the show. He hoped to surprise her with the tickets the next day after they were officially married—hopefully in more ways than one.

  Violet cleared her throat. "Why don't we go over the agreement? I wrote out the papers. We should finalize all the details and sign them."

  Hashing out the details of their fake relationship was not what Bruce wanted at all—he wanted it to be real, for her to be his and him to be hers. He wanted something true. But that was why she was here.

  Financial details were not the romantic or sexiest topic of conversation.

  And she was proud—she clearly didn't want to ask for help, even now.

  "I can do an estimate for dialysis payments for the next six months. That's the term we decided on, right?" she asked. She was biting her bottom lip as she looked down at her copy of the documents.

  He ached to tell her it was all hers—she could have whatever she needed, whatever she wanted from him, and he'd give it gladly. He'd share it all with her. Instead, he forced himself to say, "That's fine. And I'll take care of whatever medical debt you already have, of course."

  Doubtful eyes peeked up at him for a moment. She worried at her plush lip with her teeth again. He wanted to kiss those lips, feel her mouth beneath his.

  "Are you sure? I don't want to impose …"

  "You're not an imposition," he assured her warmly. You're my mate, he wanted to add, but couldn't. Not yet. "That was our agreement, wasn't it? You help me, I help you. And I can spare it, I promise."

  "Okay. I'll have to add that." She made a note.

  "Is your sister up for a kidney?"

  "She's on the list, but not yet."

  "You can add that, too."

  She hesitated again, but added another note. "All right, if she comes up in the next sixth months …"

  "Whenever." His voice was firm. "Whether it's next week or ten years from now. It's yours. I mean hers," he added hastily.

  Violet blinked several times in rapid succession, and when she looked up he was startled to find that her eyes had filled with bright, unshed tears. "I don't know what to say," she confessed. "This all seems like so much."

  He leaned forward, covering her hand with his. The pen stopped moving. He longed to brush away her tears and tell her she never had to worry about money, or anything, again, because he was going to take care of her. She deserved to be taken care of. But they weren't there yet, so he kept his silence.

  "It's nothing," he told her. "Please, don't worry about me. I know what it means to take care of family."

  Nodding, she took several deep breaths and looked back down at her work. "Okay, I think that's it for me. What about you?"

  "You'll have to meet my family."

  They had to believe that Bruce and Violet were real mates—that he'd magically found his mate right before the deadline. And he had—he wouldn't have to fake the star-struck, lovesick expression that crossed his face every time he so much as thought of her.

  But at some point she would have to know the truth about them, about his nature. Bruce didn't know how to tell her about his other side, his inner animal. It was one thing to tell a business partner, like he'd promised Wanda. It was another thing to risk it with a real mate and stand the chance of her running scared or leaving him—or exposing his secret, and his family's secret, to the world.

  He had to do it right.

  His family would understand why he hadn't told her about his bear yet, at least. It would be a double deception. He had felt bad about the prospect of lying to his family, though of course on his side it wasn't a lie now, but the thought of keeping something from Violet tore savagely at his heart.

  The sooner the better, he vowed to himself. Once she had met his family and things were a little more settled. Then he could reveal the truth.

  Bruce covered her hand with his and squeezed. Violet looked up at him, her eyes bright.

  They would have to be in public as a couple if they wanted this to work—which meant public displays of affection. Violet nervous at that.

  "I'll be a perfect gentleman," he promised with a smile.

  Instantly the mood lightened; Violet laughed. "It's part of our cover. I don't mind." A twinkle returned to her eye.

  "Maybe we should practice," he suggested, half-joking and half-serious.

  Playfully, she hid her face behind the stack of papers. "Maybe later," she said—and he thought he heard a thread of anticipation and promise winding through her voice.

  "Why don't we get something to eat?" he suggested and gestured at the window. "There's a whole city to explore at our feet."

  She went to the window, which spanned the entire wall from floor to ceiling, and pulled back the curtain. It was late afternoon, so the orange sunlight filtered over the city and set dust motes in the air sparkling.

  "It's so beautiful," she breathed. "I never thought I'd get to see a place like this …"

  Bruce joined her. "Are you a city woman?"

  She laughed a little nervously. "Oh no, not really. Cities are really busy—I like to relax. I like being outside—have you ever gone hiking in the mountains outside town? They're beautiful during the spring. But still … it's nice to be somewhere luxurious and comfortable for a change."

  Comfortable. He thought his den could claim that much. He'd built it, out deep in the woods at the foot of those very mountains. But his home wasn't steel and glass and chrome; it was warm woods and natural browns and greens. Bruce had even built the bed with his own two hands, and it was both sturdy and luxurious.

  And it was outfitted with silk sheets. If Violet wanted comfort, she could find it there. She could slip between the sheets and feel their smooth shine against her skin, and sink into the mattress that was as soft as a cloud.

  The image brought others to his mind. His imagination worked in feverish overtime. He wanted to lavish her with all the attention she deserved,
and then some. Running his hands over her dark skin. Cupping her generous breasts, caressing them, playing with her dusky nipples until they stiffened. Maybe she would make that sound again, the moan that emerged from her when she slipped chocolate past her lips.

  The thought went straight to his cock. Bruce was almost painfully hard.

  She touched him. Her fingers trailed down the inside of his forearm. Even after she snatched away her hand, the imprint of her fingers lingered on his skin, drawing him in. He was uncomfortably aware of his own arousal.

  He didn't just want her. He ached for her through his whole body. He needed her. He loved her.

  And he couldn't tell her.

  She cleared her throat, letting the curtain close over the city, and now there was a twinkle in her eye. The hurt and pain had disappeared from her expression—or maybe she was only now wearing a mask again.

  "Ready to meet Elvis?" she asked.

  "I hear he's been sighted around here," he said gravely, and they both grinned.

  Chapter Five

  Violet

  Violet hadn't ever imagined being married by Elvis in a Vegas wedding chapel, but if she had, the reality would have exceeded her wildest imaginings.

  "I think the pink Cadillac really makes your eyes pop." Leaning back into the limo's leather seat, she held the photo up so Bruce could see. It showed them both in the front seat of the Cadillac in their wedding garb—and in Bruce's case, a chapel-provided Elvis pouf. Violet was holding a plastic bouquet in a riot of color.

  "Definitely." He slanted a grin at her. They were sitting close together, their shoulders touching, almost leaning into each other. "I like how you hitched your blue suede shoes up on the dash."

  "I'm a classy lady like that."

  "I can tell."

  Getting hitched had been more fun than Violet remembered having in a very long time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much, especially when the Elvis impersonator-slash-minister began singing as he walked her down the aisle. It was the kind of ridiculousness that looked silly and dumb from the outside but was insanely fun to participate in on the inside. In the limo, she was still more than a little euphoric.