Page 10 of Just Right (The Beasts of Blackmoor #3)

TEMPTATION

I want to tell him ‘no’ just to wipe that smirk off of his face. Too bad that my mouth doesn’t work how it should. Instead of snapping at him to back off, it just wants to fall open so that he can kiss me instead…

I whimper. That’s all I can do. I whimper, and Colt moves into me. Next thing I know, I’m completely backed up against the tree. Moving quicker than I expected, he lashes his hand around my wrist, taking my hand with his as he braces it above my head. His other hand goes straight to my hip.

Colt pushes his obvious erection against me as he cages me in. Dropping his nose to my shoulder, he breathes me in, shuddering at being this close to me.

“Fucking delicious,” he rumbles a second before he uses the flat of his tongue to swipe up the side of my throat.

I arch my back as best as I can, giving me full access to me. I mean, hell. I’m soaked and I’m needy and I’m fucking shaking as Colt presses an open-mouthed kiss to my neck. As he distracts me with that, he releases my hip, grabbing my leg, hooking it around his waist.

He’s spread me wide open, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s full dressed, I might’ve just stood there and begged him to fuck me.

The words are halfway to my lips, my dazed mind willing to do anything for some further relief, when the haze is broken up by three quiet words spoken by a man—a bear—who neither of us could ignore.

It’s Rowan, and all he says is, “Let. Her. Go,” before Colt is drawing away from me, and I’m patting my skirt down anxiously, half pissed that Rowan interrupted us when we were just getting good—and half annoyed that I don’t have the nerve to invite him to take his brother’s place.

Colt adjusts the bulge in his jeans while lowering his gaze so that he can avoid the fire blazing in Rowan’s molten gold-colored eyes.

“It’s the fever,” the younger brother begins. “It was worse than we heard.”

“There are other ways to cool the fever, Colton. Without pushing her?—”

“I know. Damn it, Row, I know. And… fuck. I lost control. That’s not fair to Finn.”

Finn .

Shit.

I just thought about Finn, too. The kind and somewhat gullible twin I’ve spent most of my time with the last few days… how would he react if he knew that I was so desperate, I let Colt fuck me instead of him.

I know how he would react. It really would break his heart.

Squeezing my legs together, hiding the proof of my arousal from them—though, considering how good a bear’s snout is, they probably know if they’re anything like their counterpart in the wild—I’m thinking about slinking away when Rowan barrels down on his brother.

“Exactly. We decided?—”

Colt’s head jerks up, a flash of temper returning. “ You decided.”

Rowan bares his teeth. All pearly whites for a world that doesn’t have toothpaste, but after a second, I realize that they’re not just teeth. They’re fangs .

Colt backs off immediately. “Right. She’s our… guest.”

Again with ‘guest’. Why do I get the feeling that, every time one of the bears says ‘guest’, they mean something else?

If they do, they aren’t telling me. And I wish I could blame the fever for how much I feel out of the loop right now, but nope.

I have no idea what’s really passing between the oldest and middle brother, only that I was so sure I was moments away from getting some relief, and now?

If something doesn’t change and soon , I’ll have to figure out another way to break it.

Turns out, that’s not necessary.

Of the three bears, Rowan is the one who most has kept his distance from me. That all changes in the next moment as he stalks around his brother, bends just enough to place one hand behind my back, the other behind my shaky knees, before tipping me back into his arms.

“Grab the bucket,” he snaps. “Start filling the tub.”

Colt nods, then he dashes into the trees.

Rowan strokes my forehead, pushing some of the damp tendrils of hair away from sticky skin. “You okay, Goldie?”

Goldie… To Colt, I seem to be his ‘little thief’.

Finn has this adorable habit of calling me ‘ honig ’; when I finally asked, he told me that honey used to be his favorite thing, and that honig is what they call it in the ‘old language’.

But Rowan? Serious and stoic and probably wishing my time in Blackmoor was up already, he’s the only one to actually use my preferred nickname.

I lean into his caress. “I don’t feel so good.”

He sighs. “I know. The fever… I’ve heard of this happening. When the magic in the forest thinks that its visitor is ignoring what it wants… what it’s supposed to do… the fever takes hold.”

Blackmoor will have its due…

“I don’t understand. Is this because I haven’t really started the search for Char yet?”

“No. That’s what you want from the forest. But that’s not what the forest wants from you.”

Okay. “Then what does the forest want, Rowan?”

“For you to recognize the bond between you and your fated mate.”

My stomach twists. From the first moment I heard one of the brothers mention ‘mates’, I’ve had the sinking suspicion that this was why the village council accepted my petition to test the beasts of Blackmoor.

It all seemed so coincidental, right? They were in search of a desperate blonde who was willing to sign away three weeks…

because that’s how long it would take to re-run our version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears?

Only… that’s the problem. All three Brown brothers are stunning.

Strapping. Gorgeous . They work hard, tend to my every need, and except for Rowan, make it obviously clear that they’re attracted to me.

I haven’t bothered hiding the fact that I reciprocate their lust, and the more they treat me as something special…

something to be treasured… the most I find myself drawn to them.

Even Rowan.

Especially Rowan.

But could I choose? Is that how it works anyway?

Do I get to choose? Or, if this is some fated thing that I agreed to because I got blindsided by the ‘three weeks’ clause of the contract and might’ve missed the ‘you’re the soul mate to a paranormal creature’ part, is it already written in the stars?

I can’t deny that there’s something tying me to these brothers. A bond, maybe, or something else. But if there’s one who I was picked specifically to be given to, I can’t tell.

Can they?

“And who’s that?”

Rowan doesn’t answer me. Instead, cocking his head, listening for something, he exhales softly when he hears it. “That was the first splash. Colt is very smart. A good male. If he can’t ease your fever one way, he’ll help with another. The tub should have enough water in it to start.”

That’s right. Tub. Rowan mentioned that before…

but since when do the bears have a tub? And, more importantly, why haven’t they told me about it?

Granted, I didn’t ask … I just assumed that, in a hidden cabin in the woods, luxuries like bathing indoors and running water were things I was going to miss.

I didn’t want to jump into the river without my clothes on so I didn’t bathe.

But if there’s a tub…

There is. It reminds me of an old-fashioned clawfoot tub, made of…

brass, I think? It’s large, more than enough room to fit Rowan in his human form, and maybe even when he’s shifted to his fur.

I’m not sure. While both Finn and Colt enjoy shifting and letting me get used to their bears at night while we’re lounging in front of the fire, Rowan has been carefully staying in his skin, a spectator as I run my fingers through their fur, tweaking their adorable round ears, and curling up next to their heated bulk because, damn it, it’s so fucking cozy.

Bears. I get along with bears .

Who would’ve thought?

Well, except for Blackmoor, I guess…

Rowan is still carrying me bridal-style.

Only after he peers into the tub, satisfied with how full it is so far, does he set me down on the grass.

I’m not sure why he thinks I need a bath right now—unless my stink has caught up to me, but he seems too withdrawn and grumpily polite to point that out—but when he grabs the hem of my skirt, easing it up and over my head before I can protest, it’s clear that dunking me in the water is exactly what he plans on doing.

I barely have enough time to register how great it feels to have his hot hands on my even hotter skinner as he hoists me up again before he’s placing me into the tub.

Fuck. It’s cold. Icy. Definitely deep enough to make me gasp.

Rowan doesn’t let go. Crouching down behind the tub, he keeps his hands on my waist until I’m completely lowered into the water. I’m submerged up until my tits, leaving the tops of my breasts, my upper chest, and my head out of the water.

I whimper as the cold water—river water, I’m guessing, courtesy of Colt—seeps into my bones. I try to twist away, looking for an escape, but Rowan’s hold is firm. Unbreaking.

“Shit. That’s so cold,” I tell him, in case he doesn’t know. “Let me out.”

“No, Goldie.” His answer is just as unmoveable. “You need to cool down.”

“That’s what I was trying to do with Colt,” I bite out, swiveling my head so I can look up at him.

His jaw goes tight. “I would’ve thought that my brother was only stoking your heat.”

“Maybe,” I shoot back. “But it felt a whole lot nicer than this ice bath!”

Did I push my luck, yelling at the oldest brother? I’m not sure. Who knows? I might have even just challenged him, a challenge he can’t refuse, because instead of dunking me under so I really cool off, Rowan does that last thing I expect.

Releasing my waist, he shifts his hands until he’s cupping a boob in each of his hands.

A thumb brushes roughly over one of my nipples. Fingers knead the flesh of my underboob on the other one.

I gasp, throwing my head back until it’s resting against the edge of the tub.

Rowan gazes down at me. His molten gold eyes are darker than usual. Dangerous .

“Better?”

He has no idea.