Beck wished she could stay in bed with him longer. It was summer, but nights were still cool in the mountains, and he was like a big sexy furnace. She had to get ready for the long day ahead though. The more she fell for Mason, the more determined she was to help the shifters—not just for her and Ryder’s future, but for the future of Damon’s mountains and the incredible people here, too. She’d been here almost a week and had managed to meet with all the crews here thanks to Bash being happy to drive her after Mason had quit. She loved them all—the Ashe Crew, the Gray Backs, the Boarlanders, Damon and his beautiful family. She’d even met Kong’s Lowlander family group in Saratoga when she’d done a grocery run with Audrey. Her heart was throwing out lifelines to each crew, each member, tethering her here to this place. How silly that she’d thought she could leave, like her time here had meant nothing. She was changed. She was stronger somehow, which was insane because she’d always been proud of her toughness, but these people here made her want to get battle-ready. They made her career more than just a job. They made it fulfilling, but only if she succeeded in helping them.
Everyone had a role to play here. The mates that had been brought into the Boarlanders didn’t sit idly by and watch their men defend themselves alone. Audrey was in town every chance she got, being friendly, signing autographs, because the white tiger she hid inside was also rare. And Bash’s mate, Emerson, was writing pro-shifter first-person articles full-time for the Saratoga Hometown News. And on top of that, she hadn’t balked an inch when Beck had asked her to write blogs for Cora’s website and open a forum on the bangaboarlander page. Already they were getting a great response from the public who were curious about life in Damon’s mountains. And Kirk’s mate, Alison, who had asked Beck to call her Ally, had made ballsy moves with a video interview that made international news. She had silenced IESA completely after they tried to kill her a couple months ago. Her outspoken and public vitriol for the rogue government group had civilians picketing and raging against the injustices done to the shifters.
It was time Beck stepped up and pulled her weight, too.
Beck laid a kiss on her mate’s chest, hugged him tighter, then wiggled out from under his heavy arm and leg. His hand clamped on hers the second her feet hit the cold floorboard.
“Nooo,” he drawled softly. “It’s too early.”
She giggled and pulled her hair into a high messy bun. “The early bird gets the worm.”
“Mmm. That statement right there would break Willa’s heart.”
Beck laughed. Oh, she’d met the worm-lovin’ Almost Alpha of the Gray Backs. “The photographer for the calendar will be here soon, and I need to get ready.”
“How soon?”
“Forty-five minutes.”
A naughty smile stretched Mason’s lips. He pulled her back into bed and over him until she straddled his hips. His lightened gaze dipped to her bare breasts, and he ran his hands up her ribs, then lifted his shoulders up off the bed and drew one of her nipples into his mouth. As he laved his tongue against her sensitive skin, Beck closed her eyes and arched her back, encouraging him.
Mason relaxed back and rolled his hips under her. “You’re sensitive, woman. You come easy for me.”
“Your point?”
Mason sat up again and cupped the back of her neck, laid a nipping kiss at the base of her throat. “I could have you in five,” he murmured.
Beck gave a private grin at the headboard behind him because, damn, she should really be getting ready, but that was one helluva pretty offer from her man. Teasingly, she lowered her lips to his ear and whispered, “Or I’ll have you in five.” Slowly, she lifted off his hips and positioned herself right over the head of his hard cock.
She slid over him slow and easy, then pulled off him quick. Down slow, up quick, and Mason’s hips jerked as a soft rumble vibrated in his chest. Big, powerful man, allowing her the dominant position in their bed. Mason’s arms wrapped around her back, and he pulled her closer, buried his face at her neck as she gripped the back of his hair and lost herself in the erotic friction they were creating in the first rays of dawn light that filtered in through the window blinds.
When her skin chilled from the sensations taking over her body, Mason pulled the blanket to her back as if his instincts had told him exactly what she needed. Beck rolled her hips faster as the pressure built between her legs, and Mason drew his knees up, cradling her as their bodies crashed against each other. Her insides tingled, and the pressure was too much. She threw her head back and cried out as she came. By the second pulse of her orgasm, Mason clutched her hard and went rigid, growled out her name. His shaft throbbed as he shot warmth into her. God, she loved this. Loved him filling her. Loved this connection. Loved his instant reaction to her body. Loved him.
Loved him?
She slowed the pace as it hit her that this was something monumental. She’d accepted she would live a life void of love from a mate, but here she was, giving her heart to someone who was worthy. To someone she could trust with it.
“I love you,” she whispered against his ear, too scared to look in his eyes when she admitted it out loud.
Another deep pulse from Mason’s dick, and he relaxed. Easing back, he lifted those beautiful inhuman eyes to hers. Honesty pooled there as he smiled and said, “I love you, too.”
“Really?” Beck said, chest heaving with emotion.
Mason drew her into his strong embrace and rocked them slowly from side to side. He rubbed her back gently and said, “Yeah, really, but I was planning on telling you first.”
“Competitive,” she accused him through a laugh.
“Nah, I just had it in my mind that I was going to take you out and tell you at a nice dinner. Make it special. But you know what?”
“What?” she asked, squeezing his shoulders tight. She couldn’t believe he was really hers, and that she wasn’t dreaming this.
“Your way was better.”
“Naturally.”
Mason tickled her ribs and asked, “Naturally? Woman, that’s cocky.”
She was giggling hard now because he’d found her most ticklish place on her stomach and had dug in. “You’re the cocky one now. Stop it, you monster.”
“Mmm, I’m your monster, though,” he rumbled, flipping her over and pulling her beside him on the bed. “Five more minutes.”
“No! I only have forty minutes to get ready now, and I have to look professional today.”
Mason was nibbling at the back of her neck with those sexy nipping teeth of his. And oooh, now he was sucking on her, and the pull of her skin between his lips made her arch her ass against him instinctively. His grip on her waist was hard as he angled her farther back against him.
“Mason!” she yelped. He was getting riled up again, and as fun as it sounded to fool around with him all day, she really had to stop them at some point. Beck abandoned the covers and scrambled from bed.
Mason grabbed for her backside and missed, then grunted and lay limp, half off the bed with a sexy little pout on his bottom lip. She couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up her throat. “You owe me an alarm clock, by the way.”
Mason frowned at the destroyed appliance.
Beck bustled into the bathroom and called out, “And also breakfast since it’s your fault I’m running late!”
Chapter Fourteen
“Clinton, for the last time, I’m begging you…just take off the gym socks.” Eight in the morning, and Beck was already about done with this day thanks to the ridiculous man standing before her.
Clinton had done everything she’d asked: fixed his sandy colored hair into a stylish mess on top of his head, trimmed his facial scruff so it looked designer, and he’d even cleaned and polished both his chainsaw and his brand new white Ford Raptor, which she was pretty sure he bought just to compete with Mason’s truck. He’d started testing her with the jeans she’d asked him to wear, though. She’d said “sexy, with well-placed holes,” and Clinton had decided on redneck look
in’ cut-off jean shorts with a hole in his crotch that clearly showed his dick. And then to top off his look, a pair of atrocious yellow and white knee-high gym socks clung to his hairy legs. If the smile he was wearing was anything to go by, this had been the plan since he’d made the deal to take a picture for the calendar.
“Can we edit the socks out?” Beck asked the photographer, a sweet, mousy woman named Drea.
“It would be easier to just add jeans to him later.”
“No!” Clinton barked as he hit another ridiculous pose. He held his chainsaw up in the air, splayed his legs and yep, his giant dick flopped right out of the hole in his jean shorts. “Are you getting this one? This one will sell millions.” He was trying to contain his laughter, and Beck wanted to claw that stupid smile right off his stupid face.
Behind her, Harrison, Bash, and Kirk were chuckling, and it was all too much.
“This is shoot one out of twelve today. Twelve! And already we’ve wasted an hour staring at your dick!”
“Hey, I manscaped it, just like you asked!” Clinton yelled.
“I meant your chest, Clinton,” she gritted out. “This isn’t an R-rated calendar. Harrison,” she pleaded, turning to the alpha, “can you talk to him? Please.”
“Oh, no.” Harrison’s blue eyes sparked with amusement. “I don’t have any control over that asshole. I’m fine sitting back and watching someone else try to handle him for a while. Not my circus, not my monkeys.”
She let off a screech that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. This was just great that Clinton was already working up her animal.
“Hey, you’re eyes are pee-pee yellow.” Clinton pelvic-thrusted and revved the chainsaw up in the air, waggling his eyebrows not-so-seductively, and she wanted to kick everything.
The photographer stopped clicking away on her digital camera with the long lens and arched her eyebrow at the images she reviewed. “I mean…we’d have to cut half of him out of the pictures. There’s not really a good angle for the shape we need for the calendar.”
Beck turned her hands into little claws as she gripped her daily planner to her chest. With a frozen, feral smile for Clinton, she said too shrilly, “It’s okay. Everything is okay. Clinton, you’re out of the calendar!” There, take that, ass.
“Finally,” Clinton muttered. He lowered the chainsaw to the ground and hooked his hands on his hips. And then, dick out, he said, “Anyone want to get drunk and eat pizza rolls up at Bear Trap Falls with me?”
Bash raised his hand like he was a giant school boy. “Well, I want to—”
“No!” Beck hollered. “No, no, no. Clinton, you can go do whatever you want. You three are coming with me.”
“But”—Bash pouted—“he’s making pizza rolls.”
Harrison was grinning like this was the funniest thing he’d seen in his life, Kirk was laying on the ground, hands linked behind his head and definitely snoring, and Bash was now asking, “When’s lunch?”
“It’s eight in the morning, Bash. Didn’t you just have breakfast?”
Bash shrugged like that was a silly question. “Yeah, first breakfast.”
Beck blinked hard, shook her head, counted to three, and opened her daily planner again. “Bash,” she said, forcing a calm voice, “you’re up next. Your setting is the Boarlander woods. Somewhere pretty and mossy with lots of shade. Do you know a place that is close?”
Bash pointed to the tree line behind the trailers, twenty yards away. “That’s good.”
Clinton had sucked the wind straight out of her sails, so Beck sighed and said, “Great.”
She marched toward the woods, leading the others, and let Drea have the reins on Bash since he was much more open to direction. And while the behemoth was rubbing moisturizer over his rippling muscles, Beck let off a little sound of relief. Bash would take a better picture and not give her the mountainous pile of shit Clinton had.
And now she had to figure out an extra picture since she’d been depending on Clinton for January. She’d spent hours sketching out ideas and imagining how this would go, and in all the time she’d worked on this project, losing their first model right out of the gate hadn’t even crossed her mind.
She shook her head as she looked over the list of months.
January – Clinton, bear, Boarlander
February – Bash, bear, Boarlander
March – Harrison, bear, alpha of the Boarlanders
April – Kirk, silverback, Boarlander
May – Creed, bear, alpha of the Gray Backs
June – Matt, bear, Gray Back
July – Beaston, bear, Gray Back
August – Tagan, bear, alpha of the Ashe Crew
September – Haydan, bear, Ashe Crew
October – Bruiser, bear, Ashe Crew
November – Brighton and Denison, twin bears, requested shoot together, Ashe Crew
December – Damon, dragon, king of the motherfuckin’ mountains
Meet Robbie tonight at Sammy’s, 9:00
“Crap,” she muttered. She’d been so caught up in everything here, she’d completely forgotten about her meeting with McFartFace. Irritated, she scribbled devil horns on Robbie’s name while she tried to work through who she would shoot for January. Everyone on her list was all the ones who had agreed to be in the calendar. Everyone else was a hard no. And she couldn’t split up the Beck brothers or they would bow out of the project. Theirs was going to be a music shoot with their guitars. Still shirtless and sexy, but their fans would be ravenous for a spread of both of them together.
“Hey,” Mason murmured right beside her ear.
“Aaah!” Beck yelped, jumping nearly out of her skin.
Mason backed away, barely saving the trio of coffees in his hands from spilling, a big old grin on his face. On his beautiful, shaven face.
“Mother of pearl,” she murmured as she dragged her gaze along his clean-shaven jawline. Dark eyes said his animal was content, a straight, strong nose, sensual lips lifted in a smile, and his chiseled jawline belonged on a model. And the deeper his smile grew, the deeper two sexpot dimples became.
“Beck.”
She wanted to swim in those dimples. She wanted to dive into them and backstroke around in them, then snuggle up and take a nap and wake up and squish her cheek against the sides of her dimple bed…
“Beck?” Mason said again, looking concerned now. “Are you okay?”
Will you marry me? Stop it. Breathe and stop being weird. He looks worried. Say something smart. “I saw Clinton’s dick.” Freaking perfect.
Mason’s dark eyebrows lifted slightly. “Everyone has seen Clinton’s dick. He’s real proud of it.”
“Mine’s bigger,” Bash called from where Drea was positioning him against a tree.
“Y-your ummm,” Beck stammered, gesturing to Mason’s perfect jawline and lips. “Your face is my favorite.”
“It’s my favorite, too,” Bash chimed in.
The worry in Mason’s eyes morphed to amusement, and was that a blush in his cheeks? “I roughed up your face last night and felt bad. Figured I’d shave for you so you don’t have to flinch away when we’re kissing.”
So he planned on more kissing! Eeeee! Beck cleared her throat coolly and murmured, “I really appreciate it. I loved you bearded, but this…” She lifted her fingertips to his face, hesitated for a moment, then brushed a light touch down his cheek. “This is a good surprise.”
Mason pressed her hand against against his jaw, nuzzled her palm, then laid a soft kiss on her wrist. “I brought coffee. Figured you could use it after all the not-sleeping we did last night.”
She giggled, deliriously happy now that her mate was here. Her mate. God, she couldn’t believe this was happening. “Three coffees?”
“One for me and you, and one for the photographer willing to put up with the shit she’s gonna have to deal with today. I hope you’re paying her well.”
“I am. Cora Keller hired her with the budget from donations that have been pourin
g into her site. She’s also been selling shifter T-shirts, mugs, pens, hats, the works to raise money.”
“That woman is amazing.”
“She really is. She has all the Breck Crew working around the clock to help with PR, but she didn’t have enough pull here.”
“And that’s where you came in,” Mason said proudly, handing her a fancy disposable coffee cup with a lid.
“Yep,” she said, taking a burning sip of the delicious wakey-wakey nectar. “Ooooh, heaven. Drea, coffee is here when you want it.”
“Thanks, Beck,” Drea said, reviewing shots she’d just taken of Bash.
Emerson was here now, pregnant belly pushing against her T-shirt as she plucked a fuzz off Bash’s dark facial scruff. And if her ears were on point, she could hear Audrey and Ally talking and giggling and headed this way to help. Today was about to get easier with their back-up.
Bash turned with a grin and said something low in Emerson’s ear, cupped her belly affectionately, his tall stature as strong as the tree he stood next to, muscles flexed as he talked to his mate.
“Drea,” Beck whispered, then jerked her chin at the couple.
“You want some candid shots?” Drea asked through a spreading grin.
“Yeah.”
Drea didn’t have to be asked twice. Immediately, she began snapping pictures of Bash cradling Emerson’s belly. Emerson was laughing, her hands on Bash’s chest like they were the only ones out in these woods.
An unexpected emotion washed over Beck as she watched them, and she rested her hand on her chest to stop the fluttering.
“What’s wrong,” Mason asked, resting his fingertips on her lower back.
“Nothing. They’re beautiful.”
Mason frowned from her to Bash and Emerson, and then back to Beck. “You never had that, did you?”
She smiled through her emotions. Unable to speak, she shook her head. Robbie hadn’t been happy over the news that she’d become pregnant. Wasn’t happy with their shotgun wedding. Wasn’t happy with her.