Chapter 14 #3
He stilled as he looked at her, his eyes lighting with surprise. “Really?”
She shrugged. “I don’t just make brownies. There are chicken potpies, too. That’s the Tupperware in the refrigerator.”
“Which is faster?”
“Potpies.”
He grabbed those while she dropped down onto her couch. Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes. She pretended she could still smell Irish Spring and feel his arms around her. And she didn’t open them again until she heard him cursing.
When she looked, he was staring at the microwave, his finger hovering over the buttons. It took her a moment to figure out the problem, and then she remembered he couldn’t read. “See the rows of white buttons?” she said. “Second one down on the left says ‘Reheat.’ That’s what you need.”
He traced his finger over and pressed. But after the microwave started, he remained there staring. He was right. He needed to remember how to read. Even the simplest tasks in life required literacy.
“First thing tomorrow,” she said gently. “We’ll start with the basic alphabet and—”
“No!” he said, spinning around with a snarl. “Now!”
She didn’t argue with him. She could already tell he wasn’t in a rational enough place for words.
Which meant she had to look deeper at what was really going on in his head.
Hadn’t he told her that she was his wisdom?
Perhaps it was time she tried it. She sat up straighter, talking out loud as she thought through what was going on.
“So the bear side is the simple one. Eats, sleeps, has sex.”
“Yes.” The word was half growl.
“And the human is the violent one. Analyzes, strategizes, implements.”
“Yes.” This time the word was snapped out, almost like a response to a military officer.
“So who feels pain? Guilt? Fear?”
“What?”
She straightened up off the couch, her entire body aching with the movement, but still needing to be close to him as she spoke.
“It’s what you said. Smoky the Bear lives a life of woodsy contentment.
Mr. Human is more like Mr. Robot with the thinking and planning.
Where do the difficult emotions go? Who has empathy, who feels remorse? ”
He stared at her the same way he’d been looking at the microwave a moment ago: as if trying to decipher a secret code. But she was speaking plain English.
“Who feels bad, Simon?” She made it to his side and lay her palm flat on his chest. Through the thin T-shirt, she felt his muscles ripple, but he didn’t move. He just kept staring at her, until she repeated the question. “Who feels bad?”
“I do.” The words were rasped out, and she ached at the painful sound.
“You do,” she echoed as she stepped closer.
He didn’t touch her. In fact, a quick glance told her that his hands were clenched into fists by his side.
So she stroked him. First with her palm across his chest. Then with her other hand, caressing his jaw.
“You’re not just a bear and not just human.
You’re both, Simon. And that’s a complicated place to be. ”
“No,” he said, his eyes shutting tight. It wasn’t a denial. It was more like defiance thrown into the wind. No, he didn’t want to feel this way. No, he didn’t want to live this way. No, he didn’t want any of this.
Which is when she realized the truth. After all, he hadn’t asked to become the Detroit bear alpha.
He’d been Mr. Happy Grizzly in the UP when she’d shown up and shot him.
Then he’d wanted to hole up in his cabin while he remembered who and what he was, but she’d dragged him down here.
Then he’d had to fight Vic and Nanook, and suddenly he was alpha of a grizzly clan in a city that was perpetually teetering on the edge of destruction.
No wonder he was fighting this. Whatever life plans he’d had, they were certainly changed now.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, guilt descending hard into her soul. “You didn’t want to come, but I just dragged you in.” She dropped her head onto his chest. It had grown too heavy to support. “This is all my fault.”
“No.” The word was fierce this time. And she felt his arms circle around her, his palms flat across her back. “I could have refused at any point.”
She snorted. “You did. I bowled over you.”
He stilled. And then he pulled back, lifting her face with a tender nudge to her chin. “Do you seriously think you could have forced me? How? Were you going to carry me into your car? Did you put a gun to my head and make me fight Nanook?”
Maybe he was right, but that didn’t ease her guilt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I’m not,” he returned. “Not about that. And not about this either.”
She frowned. “Wha—”
He kissed her. Long and deep. First with his lips, then his tongue teased through the seam of her lips.
He pushed inside and played with her while her breath grew short and her nipples tightened.
Her knees weakened and she felt his penis hot and pulsing through his jeans.
And she lifted her knee to coil her leg around him, opening herself up to him while drawing him tight.
The microwave dinged while they were entwined. Her kitchen filled with the scent of hot chicken potpie, but she wanted only the smell Irish Spring and him.
Then he pulled back, his eyes dark and but his lips curved in a self-satisfied smile. “You know what else bears have?”
She shook her head, too dazed and breathless to answer.
“Really good tongues.” Then he cupped her face.
His palm was so large that he could touch the length of her jaw while pushing his fingers into her hair.
“I want to lick you while you come on my tongue. I want to mount you from behind while squeezing your breasts. And I want to feel your legs wrapped around me as I pound my release into you.”
Her eyes widened at his words, but that was nothing compared to the contraction of her womb. Lord, she was practically orgasming just from his words.
“Alyssa?” he asked, and she had no brain to process his question.
“Hmm?” she responded as her eyes fastened on his mouth.
“What do you say to that?”
Her gaze finally lifted to his eyes. And once there, she smiled. “Okay.”
His nostrils flared and his hands tightened for a moment. But beyond that, he remained absolutely still. Then she winked at him.
“How about now?”