Her First Time With A Bear (BBW Shifter Romance) (3 page)

“Please,” she repeated, tugging at the door.

“How are you getting home?” his voice growled. “It’s late, the last bus has gone.”

“Walking.”

“No you are not. Wait here I’ll give you a lift.”

“I don’t need you to. I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“It’s not the dark that worries me; it’s what’s hidden in it.” Wes looked deadly serious, and she could tell there was no way he was going to let her go alone. Not that she worried about what was out there, she thought he was making it up as a way to make her let him take her home. But why? Of course, he wanted to see if her story was true, if her mom really had gone away.

Anyway, her feet were killing her, and she was tired, so she should simply accept his offer. “OK. Thank you,” she said, and he let her go, disappearing briefly to get a jacket and fetch his keys.

On his return, he brushed past her, his brief touch sending shock waves through her. She wondered if he felt it too, but if he did, he did not show any sign as he pulled the door towards him, holding it open for her.

Going outside, the cooler evening air hit her; it had been so warm in the bar that a chill now ran through her, making her shiver.

“Cold?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” she said.

He took his jacket off anyway and wrapped it around her, she did not object, it smelt of him, all man. She breathed it in, and found it oddly comforting, leather and oil; mixed with something she could not put her finger on, the forest perhaps. Yes, pine needles and earth, she looked at him wondering what he got up to in the trees, he certainly did not look like the hiking type.

He led her over to his truck, a big beast, no nonsense kind of truck, built to do a job, not to look pretty on someone's drive. It was so him she nearly laughed, and then thought better of it, considering she was at his mercy.

“Here,” he said, opening the door for her and helping her in. His strong hand under her arm propelled her up into the seat. He was strong, she might have been as light as a stick thin supermodel to him, not the round curvy girl she had always been.

He made her feel like a woman.

This thought struck her, he made her feel like a red blooded woman, and not the girl she always thought she was, innocent and naive. He made her think of doing things she had sworn she would never do until she had a ring on her finger. This change in her excited her, and not in a little girl night before Christmas kind of way. No. In the way that made her body heated, her clothes feel restrictive and her insides turn to liquid fire.

Once seated in the truck she put on her seat belt, and waited, barely able to breathe while he got in next to her. He did not say a word; she might not even have been there for all the attention he gave her. Instead, he started the engine, the sound of it roaring to life jangling at her nerves even more. As he pulled out onto the road she wanted to remind him he had not done his seat belt up, but she guessed he was not a health and safety kind of a guy.

“It’s down in the valley, past the church,” Paris said, needing to break the silence.

“I know where you live,” he said shortly, and Paris kept her mouth shut the rest of the way home.

Luckily, it was a short drive, passing by in a blur while she tried to work out what this was leading to. What if he wanted to come in? Had he worked out her mom would not be at home, for a long time? that she would be at his mercy. Not thinking she began to chew her bottom lip, a sure sign of her nerves.

“Here. Thanks for the ride,” she said, jumping out of the truck before it had barely stopped.

She nearly made it to her front door, but he was fast, and she had to fumble for her key. Stupid. She should have put it in her hand while they were driving, so she was ready to put it in the lock as soon as they she got to the door.

With him right behind her, she had to turn around, there was no way she could simply ignore him and go inside. That would be rude, and he was her boss. She needed the job, the question was, would she do whatever it took to keep it.

“Goodnight, then,” she said, her voice wavering.

“Not yet,” he said, and her heart raced. “If you want to work for me, I feel we should know a little bit about each other.”

“OK,” she said hesitatingly. All she really wanted to do was go and collapse into bed. Although in her mind, she pictured him falling into bed right next to her. Not a good thing when he was standing right in front of her reading her body like an open book.

His gaze slid down to her breasts, she knew her nipples must have been showing through her shirt, her arousal obvious to him. She worried he would think she was a tease, and not an innocent as she had told him earlier. Maybe he thought that was just a ploy to get him into her bed, and that was what he was here for. Swallowing her panic, she tried to decide what she should do.

“Relax, Paris,” he said, and she cringed inwardly. She hated her name on his lips, it sounded so pretentious, like she should be some elegant woman, not a curvy college student.

“Sorry. It’s been a strange day.”

“Yes, it has,” he murmured. “Now I’m just trying to get a handle on what your game is.”

Here we go. “Game?” she asked, her voice nervous.

“Uh huh.” He leaned closer, and she licked her lips in anticipation, unable to stop the way he made her feel.

“I...I’m not sure I know what you mean.” She could not help the way her voice faltered.

“No? You come into my bar, with a body to die for, and pretend to be this sweet innocent little virgin, when all the while your body says, ‘take me, I’m yours’.”

“I don’t mean it to,” she said, knowing how stupid that sounded.

“So your mom didn’t put you up to this, it’s not some little game you're playing?”

“No. Honestly. My mom has left town,” she said, knowing that might be a green light to him. Here she was all alone, no one would know if he forced her inside and had his way with her. She wondered what that would be like, this huge man, and his wonderful strong hands on her body. She closed her eyes and firmly pushed those images out of her head.

It would be better to cut him from her life now, so she said, “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble, I’ll look for a job elsewhere.”

He spun her around, pinning her back to the door, his knee firmly pressed between her thighs so she could not go anywhere. Her eyes filled with tears, “Please let me go.”

He looked at her lips, and she knew then he was going to kiss her. She wanted to push him away, but the part of her that wanted to know what it was like to be taken by this man won. Her gaze drawn to his lips, and before she knew what was happening she leaned forward and kissed him.

He did not move, for a whole, endless second. Then he groaned, and his lips captured hers, moving against them until her knees felt weak. She reckoned he must be an expert at kissing too, and she struggled to know what she was supposed to do when his tongue pushed for ownership of her mouth.

She grabbed hold of him, her hands fisting his t-shirt, pressing her body forward. He would think he had got it right, that he had her all worked out. Prick tease, was not that the term for women like that. But how was she supposed to stop herself when in amongst the mess her life, this was the best thing that had happened to her for years. No, in all her years.

His hand slid up and cupped her breast, and she gasped with shock, her senses suddenly returning. She pulled back, horror on her face; she really did have her mother’s genes. Paris had always thought she was better than this, but she was wrong, she was weak.

She thought she would have to fight him off, but as soon as he felt her tense he stopped, and stood silently studying the shame that had spread across her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“No, you really don’t do you?”

Paris was back to feeling like a little girl again. She hung her head, waiting for him to berate her for coming on to him. Surely, in his line of work, and with a body like that, it could not be anything new. Women must throw themselves at him all the time.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened up. “I’m sorry if my mom leaving has left you short handed. I hope you find someone to replace her soon.” Feeling confused and angry with herself she put the key in the lock and turned it, relieved when the door opened and she stepped forward inside.

“Paris,” he said. She stopped, but refused to turn and look at him, so he continued. “I’m sorry. I should have kept my distance, but I couldn’t help it. Don’t blame yourself, it’s all my fault.” He turned and walked back to his truck. Before he reached it he turned and said, “Your shift starts at five tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

Bewildered she stood and watched him drive off, the truck roaring up the road. There was no way she was going back to the bar. She would manage some how. Then she realised she still had his jacket on. She pulled it tightly around her body, imagining it was him. His strong arms holding her tight, keeping her safe.

She would have to return it. But that was all, no more job, no more kisses. However, no part of her really believed she could keep away. He was like a drug, and she was already addicted.

He had his answer. She really was the sweet innocent thing she claimed to be. That one kiss had told him everything he needed to know. Yet she had asked for it, her body giving him all the signs he would ever need to know that she was his.

His conscience still would not allow him to take her though. He could not force her into the world he lived in. Not that he saw anything wrong with it. In fact, he pitied all those who lived with only themselves. Alone without the animal side that lived within him, waiting to be released.

He felt it now, as he drove away. Tonight he would let it free.

Parking his truck, he did not go inside the bar. Instead, he took off at a slow lope across the open fields and into the woods that surrounded them. His senses told him when he had reached his territory, and there he stopped, stripping his clothes off and folding them up before placing them on the ground, tucked into a hollow tree trunk.

He had learned to hide them some years ago after some people out on a midnight walk came across them. Thinking it would be funny to take them. Perhaps they thought he was a streaker, or one of the witches that liked to dance under the moonlight, letting it fall on their naked skin. He had seen plenty of them over the years. Whatever it had been he had lost his clothes and his wallet, it had made him more careful.

Shaking off the memory, Wes felt the cool breeze on his naked skin, and felt the power of his other nature inside him. Looking around to check there was no one else in sight, he changed, shimmering in the moonlight to become a haze of atoms and cells.

All changing, all moving, coming back together as something more, something different. His size almost doubled, and his body became covered in russet hair. He lifted his head and roared, feeling the strength of his other self coursing through him.

If someone heard him, they would think it was a prank. He had found people often ignored noises. They lived in a noisy world. Eyes on the other hand, and particularly the ease with which people took photos these days, that was the problem. A digital image of him could be taken in a second, and hurt him and his kind for years.

Now changed, Wes headed deeper into the trees, following the rough track he had made into the forest, always keeping to the parts where he would leave no paw prints. Here he could get lost for hours, no one to see him. Not unless he encountered other shifters, which he often did. Wolves were the most common. A pack of them lived on the other side of the forest. However, they treated each other with due respect, he had no quarrel with them.

He did not take much notice of where he was going, until he realised he had moved to the edge of the forest. There, in the distance was the secluded house Paris lived in. The light was still on, was she up, or did she leave it on because she was alone and afraid of the dark.

So she should be. Look what lurked outside, in the shadows. Things like him, shifters and worse. This was not the kind of place people stayed in for long. Shar took the house on because the rent had been low; he had heard her telling Cindy. She had stayed longer than most, usually it only took a few months of dark nights and mysterious noises before normal people had the distinct urge the place was odd.

Normal people did not stay in Knotted Oak for long. Wes had an idea that was because the witches had spelled the forest centuries ago, when their powers were stronger. Now they, like most of his kind were diminishing. The magic seeping from the land.

He looked at the little light in the distance again. He needed a mate. It was unlike him to show any emotion towards anyone he might hurt, he was a hunter, and she was his mate. It was not for him to show compassion.

So he hardened his resolve. She was his, and he was going to claim her, and protect her if she needed it. Then he would breed with her. Past that, he had no thoughts for the future. His genes would be passed on, that was all that mattered.

“Paris, you will have to try a lot harder if you want to stay on this course and get a good exam result,” her college professor was saying.

Paris nodded in agreement. “I’ve had a lot on, I’m sorry.”

“I realise you have to work alongside your studies. However, if the course is too much for you, then we could swap you onto something a little less intense. Perhaps extend your studies for another year, you started a term later than everyone else as it is. I worry you are pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m so close to finishing, I know I can catch up.” She could not even contemplate another year of studying. She needed to pass her exams and get a job. A proper job, which did not involve drop dead sexy men.

He sighed, looking over her previous test scores. “Last chance, Paris. I mean that in the sincerest way. You are a gifted student, but you need to give it all of your attention if you want to carry on. It would be easier to rearrange things now if that’s what’s best.”