Triplets For The Bear: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (Bears With Money Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TRIPLETS FOR

  THE BEAR

  BEARS WITH MONEY BOOK 4

  AMY STAR

  Copyright ©2018 by Amy Star

  All rights reserved.

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  About This Book

  When Cheyenne Renaud got a job as personal assistant to billionaire Harold Carmichael she knew it would be life changing.

  But not in the way she expected.

  After a passionate night with her boss began to turn into a full blown affair she was surprised when she discovered that she was pregnant.

  But this was not the biggest surprise that was to come her way.

  Very soon Cheyenne would discover the truth about Harold's secret life as a werebear.

  And the fact that she was carrying his werecub triplets...

  This is a sexy and thrilling paranormal shapeshifter romance with a pregnancy twist. Get reading now the ending will definitely surprise you...

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I’m sorry, I just don’t think this is going to work out. Not anymore.”

  Of all the ways Cheyenne Renaud expected her evening to start, that was not one of them. In fact, it hadn’t even really occurred to her that it might be a possibility. The words hardly even seemed to be real words, and she had to stare blankly at him for a few moments before they made sense.

  Her jaw worked silently for a second before she managed, “I’m sorry, what?” As far as comebacks went, it wasn’t exactly her best work. Twenty-seven years old, and she felt like she was floundering around like a high school student again, as if the rug had been ripped out from beneath her feet. How humiliating

  But maybe it was time to rewind a little bit, if only to see where everything went wrong.

  *

  Harold Carmichael was a wealthy man, and a busy one on top of that. Considering that, no one could really blame him for having exacting standards, though that meant he had a reputation for going through personal assistants as quickly as someone might go through their socks. It seemed as if every time he hired a new one, he was finding a reason to fire them just as quickly.

  Sensibly, Cheyenne was not particularly optimistic when she got the job. But even so, it would be at least a few good paychecks before she had to find other work.

  She never expected the job to stick for longer than a few weeks. She certainly didn’t expect it to stick for months. But the two of them, against all odds, got along well. He was charming, he seemed to find something about her endearing, and his thought patterns meshed well enough with her own that working together fell into a surprisingly easy pattern.

  And at first, everything was exactly as one might expect it to be. Safe but comfortable, with everything perfectly inside its box.

  It was at a charity banquet held in his primary office building every year that everything changed.

  Cheyenne was looking lovely with her smooth, tanned skin contrasting nicely against the shimmering gold of her halter top gown, auburn curls piled on top of her head with a pair of elaborate combs, and honey brown eyes standing out like a pair of beacons with her gold makeup.

  And Harry didn’t exactly look too shabby himself, skin the color of dark roast coffee offset by the dark purple of his shirt beneath his black jacket, black hair smoothed back, and dark brown eyes intense. He was a tall, broad man, but Cheyenne had never found him particularly imposing. And that evening was no different, at least in that sense.

  In every other sense, however…

  ‘Just a few drinks’ turned into ‘a few drinks too many’ in both of their cases, and the world seemed to blur at the edges until they found themselves locked in the men’s bathroom. Cheyenne’s dress had been hastily unzipped, removed, and tossed over the top of one of the stalls. Her panties were dangling from one foot, caught on the heel of her shoe as she sat on the edge of one of the sinks, and she had slipped her arms out of her bra, so Harry could push it down, baring her breasts so he could lavish attention on them with his hands and his mouth. His mouth was hot as he kissed her neck and her chest and her breasts, and it seemed like all she could do to hold onto his shoulders.

  Harry was still almost completely dressed, and for some odd reason, that seemed to make the situation feel even more illicit and slightly forbidden than it was. He had yanked his belt off and tossed it over the top of the stall with Cheyenne’s gown, but other than that, he was still clothed from head to toe.

  Cheyenne’s back arched as his hands found her hips and tightened, and he closed his lips around one of her nipples, teasing at it with his teeth before dragging his tongue over it, until it was as hard as a pebble, and he shifted his attention to the other nipple.

  Cheyenne hardly even noticed when one of his hands started moving lower until there were fingers pressing between the lips of her sex, rubbing at her clit and her vulva until she knew she was dripping, and she was glad her panties were already off or else they would have been soaked. Her back arched enough that her ass nearly left the edge of the sink, and she swore she was going to come right there, at least until Harry abruptly stopped and pulled his hands away, and she made an indistinct noise of protest at him, though her tune changed quickly.

  She watched as Harry finally unzipped his pants, pushing them and his briefs down just far enough to let his erection spring free, sighing in relief as he did. And she nearly squealed in surprise when he picked her up off of her perch on the edge of the sink, though he didn’t go far, stopping once Cheyenne’s back met the wall. The tile was a shock of cold against her heated skin, and for a split second, everything seemed perfectly crystal clear before the haze of alcohol settled over everything again.

  She wrapped her legs around Harry’s waist and curled her arms around the back of his neck and shoulders, and he held her up with his hands beneath her ass and thighs as if she weighed nothing. It was exhilarating, knowing how much larger and stronger he was compa
red to her, and she clung to him all the tighter until her nails were digging into the fabric of his jacket.

  She could feel his cock pressing against her leg, and for a moment he held her up with just one arm, and she clung to him like a lifeline as he used his other hand to line his cock up with her entrance. She drew in a breath, sharp and wavering slightly, as she felt the head of his cock press against her entrance, and then he had both hands beneath her legs yet again. He pressed his hips forward and drew her closer in one movement, and the head of his cock breached her entrance. With one swift thrust, the rest of his cock was sheathed within her. Her head fell back as she moaned, until she could feel it bumping against the wall behind her.

  It wasn’t a particularly graceful coupling, as Harry had to keep adjusting his hold on her and Cheyenne kept bumping her head against the wall and her grip on his jacket kept slipping. Truth be told, Cheyenne was surprised that his cock didn’t simply slip out of her at any point. Or at least, in retrospect, when she looked back at the moment later on, she would be slightly surprised about that. Just then, though, her thoughts were a little too occupied to contemplate such inconsequential matters.

  Granted, it wasn’t a particularly long coupling either. Alcohol was great for making arguably bad decisions, but it wasn’t so great for the stamina, and Cheyenne had already been approaching the peak when Harry started sliding his pants down. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long before Cheyenne was coming, her back arching away from the wall and her legs and her arms tightening around him. His rhythm slowed slightly as her passage tightened around him, but he kept thrusting, each thrust slow but firm enough to bump her back against the wall, until his rhythm began to falter. When he came only a few moments after her, it was with a low, slow sigh and another handful of thrusts.

  There wasn’t any time to appreciate the afterglow, though.

  Once Cheyenne’s feet were back on the floor, she wiped herself off with a wet paper towel for lack of any other options, before she pulled her panties back up, slipped her arms back through the straps of her bra, and dropped her breasts back into the cups. Considering Harry barely even removed any clothes, he was already situated again by the time Cheyenne was standing in her underwear.

  She got dressed again in silence, and afterwards they both gave the other a careful once over, just to make sure all of their clothing was straight and where it was supposed to be, and that it didn’t look like either of them had just had sex against a bathroom wall. Satisfied, they both nodded once and turned towards the door. Almost sheepishly, they crept out of the bathroom and rejoined the banquet, hoping that no one had noticed Harry’s absence.

  *

  “So, what does all this make us?” Cheyenne wondered later that night, following Harry into his house. She was considerably soberer than she had been at the banquet, though everything still sort of wobbled a bit from one side to the other.

  Harry didn’t really have an answer immediately. Instead, he simply asked, “Would you like to stay the night?” And Cheyenne saw no reason not to.

  And in truth, they never really did define what they were. Not for a while, at least. But gradually, more and more of Cheyenne’s things were moving into Harry’s house, and soon enough she felt no need to renew the monthly lease on her apartment once it was up.

  It wasn’t exactly clear on when they decided they were dating. Instead, they simply separately decided to tell people that was what was happening when it seemed like undeniable truth. It was a reasonably loose agreement, but they were content with it.

  And for a while, things were good. Harry’s mouth could get ahead of his brain on occasion, and Cheyenne’s sense of humor could turn a bit caustic from time to time, but on the whole, they were happy. They still meshed well together, like a pair of puzzle pieces lining up just right. And there were no shortages of ways to bond. Harry had billions of dollars, and they were both imaginative. Date night was never dull when it could be in another country without much prior planning. The world was their oyster, and they were both looking forward to making as much of it as they could.

  Maybe it was inevitable, then, that it didn’t stay quite so perfect. Not that either of them had expected real perfection, but Cheyenne at least had expected more time before everything began to go south.

  *

  It was Harry’s idea to get a new personal assistant. Not because Cheyenne wasn’t doing a good job, but because it struck him as rather unprofessional to be dating his personal assistant, and it didn’t seem inconceivable that there might be some kind of conflict of interest at some point down the line.

  “What, you think I can’t keep my job and my relationship separate?” Cheyenne asked, and for the most part the question was playful, but there was some honesty within it as well. It wasn’t as if she was going to start rearranging his calendar or shredding his paperwork the instant he annoyed her, after all.

  “More worried that I can’t keep it separate,” he returned wryly, and if nothing else, it helped sooth Cheyenne’s ego a bit. And she said she was just fine with him hiring a new personal assistant. As it was, it wasn’t as if Harry was going to stop supporting her. She wouldn’t need the job anymore. So, for a little while, she really was fine with it, even if seeing another woman swanning around, doing her job rankled at her just a little bit.

  *

  It didn’t take long before Cheyenne was no longer okay with it.

  Lorraine was an attractive young woman just a few months younger than Cheyenne. She was tall and pale, lean with an hourglass figure and a veritable waterfall of honey blonde hair that fell in waves down to her hips. She had wide, bright blue eyes and a small, upturned nose, and heart-shaped, pixyish features, and all in all she was adorable. She was bright and perky and upbeat, and Cheyenne couldn’t stand her in the slightest. Like a six-year-old with a bad attitude, Cheyenne wanted to roll Lorraine down a hill and chop off her hair with a pair of safety scissors. Not without cause, though. She wasn’t that petty. At least she didn't think she was.

  It started with a few small things. Tiny things, really. A hand on Harry’s shoulder or arm that lingered a bit too long to be companionable. A few too many personal opinions and anecdotes to be considered entirely professional. A few offers to spend time together that seemed a bit too close to being dates to pass them off as benign or accidental, even if Harry never took her up on them.

  It started in out-of-the-way corners, where Cheyenne only saw it happening if she stumbled over their conversation on accident. And then, it began to get more blatant, until it didn’t matter even if Cheyenne was standing two yards away, or if she had been carrying on a conversation with Harry just a moment before.

  And to make matters worse, it seemed like Harry never noticed any of it, as if all of Lorraine’s antics were just part and parcel of her job as his personal assistant. Cheyenne swore it felt like someone was gaslighting her, as if everything she was watching Lorraine do wasn’t actually happening.

  She tried to tell herself that she was just jealous. Maybe she was still a bit tender about losing her job, so she was tilting at windmills. She even tried enlisting her best friend’s help to convince herself that it really was most likely nothing.

  Her best friend had the opposite effect.

  “Sounds pretty skeevy to me,” Daphne stated blandly, her voice crackling slightly as a dead giveaway that she was on speaker phone. She was a short, curvy woman with naturally tanned skin and black hair in a smooth bob to frame her face, and her bright blue eyes always seemed to stand out. Somehow, her voice managed to sound exactly the way she looked. “I mean, if you’re really convinced it’s nothing or you’re just overreacting, then I’ll trust your judgment, but if you’re asking for my opinion, something there stinks.”

  At the time, it had been exasperating. Cheyenne wanted someone to put her at ease, not make her worry even more.

  Later, though, she was thankful for it, knowing that some had been on her side right from the very beginning. And knowi
ng that at least one person had been thinking clearly from the get-go even when Cheyenne had been doubting the evidence she saw with her own two eyes and heard with her own two ears.

  In that sense, Daphne was a blessing.

  *

  It wasn’t long before Cheyenne was snapping passive-aggressively at everything Lorraine said or did around her, and all the while, Lorraine just kept smiling beatifically and going about her job. And it wasn’t long before Harry was noticing that Cheyenne’s attitude had taken a turn for the sour, and gradually his patience began to run out.

  It wasn’t long before both of them were snapping at each other like a pair of angry turtles, while Lorraine tutted and made soothing noises and promised that she “wouldn’t let Miss Renaud’s personal opinion get her down.”

  Needless to say, none of that helped anything.

  So maybe it was…inevitable, when everything crumbled apart like a drying sandcastle.

  *

  Harry sighed, slow and drawn out. “You heard me the first time, Chey. I don’t think it’s going to work out between us.”