Bought by the Billionbear(6)

“What’s wrong with girly?” Owen’s voice lowered to a sexy rumble. “I’d wear whatever a prince wears— a sword, an embroidered coat, a crown— to get the opportunity to dance with Princess Raina.”

“You could have a broadsword,” Raina suggested. “You’d wield it in two hands. It would be so heavy, you’d be the only prince strong enough to lift it, let alone fight with it. Prince Owen the Strong!”

“I like that.”

The waiter returned with their drinks. The Lavender Bee’s Knees was bright purple, and had a swizzle stick topped with a blown-glass bee. Raina sipped it. The drink was sweet but not too sweet, floral but not soapy.

“Well?” Owen asked.

“It tastes like a field of wildflowers smells,” Raina said.

“Can I try it?” Owen asked.

“Sure.” Raina passed him the drink, secretly amused that a manly man like him would want to try her girly drink.

Owen turned the glass so his lips would touch where hers had. It was obvious that he’d done it deliberately, like a knight in a fairy tale kissing the glove that his lady’s hand had touched. It was a romantic gesture, but also deeply sensual. He wanted his lips on hers so much that he’d even press his to something that hers had touched.


At that moment, she knew that he hadn’t bid on her for charity or to keep his obligation. As she watched his full lips linger on the rim of her glass, and met the hunger in his deep green eyes, she knew that he wanted her. Wanted to talk to her, wanted her company, but also wanted her body.

Raina couldn’t deny it any longer. Owen wanted her— wanted all of her, as much as she wanted him. It was hard to believe, but she felt in her bones— in her heart— that it was true.

She swallowed, feeling the heat of desire course through her body. Her nipples felt suddenly tight and tingly, hardening against the satin that covered them.

Owen passed her back her drink. His fingers brushed against hers, warm and caressing, and another shock of desire jolted her. Raina was burning with the longing to lean across the table and kiss him, or reach under it to stroke his cock. She wondered if it was hard. Raina squirmed as she felt herself getting wet.

“Can I try yours?” Raina asked.

Instead of handing it to her, he reached out and held it to her lips. The intimacy of the gesture made her head swim. She could feel the heat of his fingers, almost at her lips. Raina opened her mouth. Owen tilted the glass, and a sip of the Scotch and soda flowed into her mouth. Bubbles burst on her tongue, prickling it. She swallowed. The liquid was cold, but it burned as it flowed down her throat.

Owen took back the drink. Again, he turned it to sip where her lips had touched. They’d never even kissed— they’d barely so much as touched each other— but a true intimacy had sprung up between them. Raina knew that he would kiss her, some time that night. Her own billionaire Prince Charming.

The waiter came up and handed them menus. Raina had always been a big girl. She exercised and sometimes she dieted it, but her body didn’t change. She’d gotten it from genetics, not from what she ate. But she’d seen how men looked at her, with disgust and contempt, when they saw her eating the same donut or pastry or hamburger they were stuffing their own faces with. She’d gotten in the habit of ordering a salad on dates, just to make sure she didn’t get that look, and then having a real dinner afterward, at home.

But surely Owen, who looked at her with both admiration and hunger— who was eyeing her every curve with naked lust— wouldn’t judge her for eating…

As if he’d read her mind, he said, “I hope you’re not one of those women who only eats salad. I was hoping to try a bite of whatever you get.”

“And you’re not a man who likes salad, huh?”

He shrugged. “Salad’s fine. On the side. If we were meant to live on nothing but greens, we’d have rabbit teeth to munch them with.”

Raina chuckled and returned to the menu, now thinking both of what she wanted and what Owen might like.

When the waiter came, she looked the black-jacketed man right in the eyes, daring him to judge her, and said, “I’d like the butter-poached lobster appetizer, and a medium-rare steak.”

The waiter merely said, “An excellent choice, madam.”

Owen ordered, “The grilled shrimp appetizer, please. And I’ll have a steak too. Rare.”

“So tell me about that wild thing you did,” Raina said as the waiter left.





***





Owen watched his beautiful mate as he told her about charging into a dark alley to scare off a mugger trying to steal an old lady’s purse. It was a true story. But he wished he could tell about the actual wild things he’d done, in his bear form.

What was he going to tell her? And how? His parents had both been shifters; he’d always assumed his mate would be one too, until he’d met all the eligible shifter women his family knew, and not one had called to his heart and soul like Raina did.

He had to believe that his mate wouldn’t be put off or frightened by learning that he could become a bear. Mates meant that you would be together forever, didn’t it? Or did it only mean that you should be? If Owen scared her off, would they both be lonely forever?

Their appetizers arrived, and Owen didn’t miss the glance Raina shot him, as if she expected him to judge her for eating her own dinner. A fierce anger swept over him at the thought of all the people who must have been cruel to his gorgeous mate, to do such a good job of convincing her that she wasn’t beautiful and desirable, and needed to hide her perfect self.