Her First Time With A Bear (BBW Shifter Romance) (4 page)

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.”

The look he gave her said he thought otherwise, and she got up to leave before he changed his mind. She could do this; she knew she could, if she gave up sleeping, and possibly eating. Paris hoped her mom was having a great time wherever she was. She did not curse her luck often, but this was one of those times.

“I take it you bought the new study guide I asked you to get? You'll need it on Friday,” the professor called after her.

“Yes. Sure have,” she turned and said over her shoulder. Liar. She had forgotten about it, he had told her to get it on the day she had gone home to find her mom leaving, and with everything else, it had disappeared from her mind. Trouble was she had no money to buy it until after the weekend.

She could always ask Ted, but it was out of her way, and she would end up being late for the bar. Perhaps she could go and see him early in the morning. That would mean not doing her homework, which she had started to get up early to do, that being the only free time she had.

Paris saved it to the back of her mind as she ran for the bus. Her professor had wanted to see her after school, it didn’t leave much time before the bus left, and she could not afford to miss it, because then she would be late for work.

She had five shifts and her Saturday job. If she had her sums right she should just be able to manage. Then there were the tips from work, but they all went into a big jar to be shared out at the end of each week. Paris hoped there would be enough in there to give her some free money, for emergencies. “Like books,” she murmured to herself, her head resting on the glass window as the bus took her home.

Once off the bus she practically ran for home. At this rate, she would not need to worry about her figure, or exercise, the stress and hard work would wear her down to nothing. Well, she could hope, up until now nothing had seemed to work, her whole life had been spent being the ‘heavy boned’ girl.

Well, that was one good thing about all this; her figure no longer bothered her that much. There were worse things in life than a voluptuous body.

She dashed into the small empty cottage and changed. Then she was back out of the door, making it to work with only five minutes to spare. Racing in through the door, she quickly went out the back and dumped her coat and bag. Chickening out on seeing Wes before her shift started, she stowed his jacket with her stuff. Luckily, she managed to avoid him completely, although she felt his eyes on her as she passed by his office. He did not come out, and so her nerves were steady by the time her shift started.

To her dismay she had to work with an older woman, her name was Brenda. That messed up Paris's next plan to get the money she needed. On her way here, she had thought of the tip jar, and was going to ask Cindy if it would be OK to borrow some from that. Now she could not bring herself to ask someone she had just met. Brenda seemed to know a lot about her mom though, which Paris found a little unnerving. It turned out her mom had planned to leave for some time, and had discussed it with Brenda.

“She said she fancied going south, some guys came through here a couple of weeks back and showed some interest in her. Asked her to look them up if she ever went that way,” Brenda said, sharing the gossip in a good natured manner.

Paris thought back, there was one night when her mom had rolled in sometime in the morning looking and smelling as if she had been to her own private party,

“Did you get their names?” Paris asked.

They were standing together waiting for food, as Brenda walked off to her table she said, “No, didn’t take much notice. Things like that pass me by these days. Good for her though taking off for a bit of fun.”

Paris pressed her lips together and frowned. Yeah, good for her, if she had not left her daughter in the lurch. She rubbed her head, a dull throbbing starting in her temples. A nagging doubt had been wheedling its way into her head since her talk with her professor. She was beginning to believe he was right, she would have to change courses or drop out.

Maybe her mom had the right idea. Paris was beginning to feel fed up of being old before her time, not like the carefree young woman she was supposed to be. “Thanks,” she said, picking up her order and turning to take it to her table. Her gaze swept the room and caught sight of Wes. He stood at the bar, pouring a drink for someone, but watching her every move.

Yes. Why not have a bit of fun with a man like Wes?

Don’t be stupid, her inner voice said, that ship sailed already, and you need this job. She also wanted to finish college, or she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life. There was no point kidding herself, she could not be happy living her mom's way of life. Somehow, she would get it to work out.

Putting a smile on her face, she took the food over to the table. A couple sat together, talking quietly, he was stroking her hand, and while they broke up when Paris came with their food, she had the bizarre thought that she had heard a cat purring. Looking under the tables gave her no clue, and she shrugged it off. Must have been her imagination, either that or the stress was making her lose her mind.

Her shift ended, and a relieved wiped down the tables. Her feet hurt worse than ever, but at least she did not have to work tomorrow night, she could sit down and work out her finances down to the last penny, and catch up with her homework. The book for college would have to wait until next week.

“You OK Paris?” Wes asked, his deep voice rumbling behind her made her jump.

“Yes. Thanks. I’ll see you Friday,” she said, it was as much a question as a statement.

He nodded, heading out behind the bar. Man of few words, but then it was not his voice she fantasised about.

She had done OK tonight, a least a few of the tips in the jar were from her, so she figured the customers were warming to her. Whether that was good enough remained to be seen, some of them had odd ways, but she did not question anything, she was too bone tired.

As she walked out, past his office, he called out, “I’ll take you home.”

“No. I’m fine, really.” Paris did not feel strong enough to fend him off tonight, or to play his games.

“I insist, and don’t worry; I won’t push the boundaries tonight.”

Paris wondered what those boundaries were, and who got to set them. In the end, though she got her coat and bag and went back to his office. She would be grateful of the ride home, and one look at him told her no was not an answer he was going to take, so why even bother.

She hung his jacket up. “I forgot I’d still got it on last night.”

Wes looked up from his paperwork, and then got up and grabbed his keys. “You were a little preoccupied,” he said.

She wanted to give him some smart retort, but could not think of one, nor did she want to start something with him. No talking was probably the best way forward.

Going out of the back door, they walked in silence over to his truck. Once again, he helped her in, but there were no lingering looks or touches, tonight felt purely business, an employer making sure his employee got home safely. She relaxed a little, especially when the loud engine gave her a good reason not to speak.

The silence might have been awkward, but no more so than any conversation they might have. He drove fast, and it seemed only seconds later that he stopped outside her house, and switched the engine off; she undid her seatbelt and opened the truck door.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

“I thought it better not to talk, that’s all. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea again.”

He gave a short laugh. “Firstly, I don’t think I got the wrong idea.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he put his hand up to silence her. “OK, we differ on our opinions there. Secondly, that's not what I meant. I saw you talking to Brenda, you looked upset. Bad news about your mom?”

“No news about my mom. Brenda said she thought she had gone south to meet up with some men she got friendly with a couple of weeks ago.”

He nodded, “I remember.”

“I’m sure she'll call. It just makes me mad she could take off with no warning to me when she had talked it over with Brenda. I mean she couldn't have given me some notice so I could have made sure I had some money put by. I mean she took everything.”

Paris closed her mouth, shocked at her sudden outburst, it was so unlike her she usually bottled everything up, and in front of a stranger too. However, she struggled to see him as a stranger, there was something between them, she simply was not sure what.

“How much do you need?” he asked, pulling a big wad of notes from his pocket.

“No. Oh no. That wasn’t what I meant. I don’t want your money.” She put her hand up as if to fend him off.

He leaned forward, and placed his hand on her arm, and the way he looked at her made her melt inside. She wished she could just give into her lust for him, but lust meant unwanted babies, like her.

“Paris. If you need an advance to tide you over til pay day, that’s fine. I’m not giving it to you; I’m not trying to buy you.”

She thought of the book she needed, and food. Beans and rice were not appealing day after day. However, it might leave her short for the following week if she were not careful.

He sat patiently watching her as these thoughts crossed her face, he smiled at the open way she had. Nothing was hidden from him, and he liked that about her, but then there wasn’t much he didn’t like about her.

“Thirty. That’s all, there's a book I have to get for college.”

He laughed, and she felt stupid again. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he still chuckled as he took the notes out and handed them to her.

“Thanks,” she said, and got out, her cheeks flaming at the sound of his mirth.

She heard his door open and headed for the door, frightened of a repeat of last night. He caught up to her but this time did not touch her. Instead he apologised, “I’m sorry, Paris. I’ve owned the bar for a good few years, and I have been asked for an advance for just about everything you could think of. But never for a book before.”

“I’m glad you find me so amusing,” she said, unable to hide the hurt from her voice.

“Hey. No. I wasn’t laughing at you. I think it’s great you think so much about your education. It must be hard, doing everything yourself.” His voice sounded gentle for once, and she felt herself forgiving him.

“I don’t want to end up like my mom,” she blurted out.

“I can understand that,” he said softly. “Is that why you avoid men?”

“I don’t avoid them. Well, not really. It works both ways; boys don’t tend to find me attractive. I’m not the type of girl they go for.” She did not want to spell it out any more than that.

“I, for one, am very glad about that.”

His words carried a hidden meaning, she was sure of it, but tonight she kept herself very much under control. There was going to be no repeat of last night, and she hoped he felt the same. She wanted to press the point though, to make sure it was clear.

“So you believe me when I say I am not playing you?”

“Oh yes.” His answer was a little too fast, but his next words were very revealing. “As soon as you kissed me last night I knew you were not lying about being a virgin.”

His answer was much more direct than she would have liked, and she felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry, about that. It won’t happen again.”

“Now that would be a shame, because there is plenty I would like to teach you about how your body responds to mine.”

She stood looking at him, her mouth open. He came forward, kissed her softly on the lips and then turned around and marched right back to his truck. Paris was still stood there when the lights had completely faded from her sight. Then she turned and went inside, but found it next to impossible to sleep, her thoughts too consumed by Wes, and his promise of pleasure.

He needed sex.

Wes had so much pent up tension in his body he thought he would explode. A night in the forest would not be enough to release the building storm within him. No, he needed something more intense than that, a woman.

He knew where he could find one. Some women were addicted to sex with shifters. He could not blame them, after a night in the bed of a beast such as him; it was hard to go back to normal men.

So tonight instead of going home, he drove about ten miles into the deep forest, and into the arms of the first woman he laid eyes on. There was a place, not a legal bar or anything, but an old farmhouse where shifters could let their hair down, be themselves. It had become a magnet to people, ordinary people who knew the secrets of the forest, and its strange inhabitants. Women mainly, but some men went there too.

She was pretty enough, but then he did not care, it was a physical release he needed, not emotional. He bought her a drink first; he always tried to be courteous. She flirted, he listened, trying to smile and not look bored. Her hand on his thigh made him harder, her fingers inching their way up his leg.

“So, what are you? No. Let me guess.”

“Sure,” he said. They always liked to play these games.

“Big muscles,” she said, running her hands over his biceps, and across his chest. “And good hearing,” she leaned forward and blew into his ear before taking his lobe in her teeth and sucking it in.

His body twitched, and he turned and their lips met. Her tongue slid out and pushed between his teeth, all the while her hand massaged his thigh. She sighed contentedly, knowing she had a sure thing here, right in her hands. Pressing forward her nipple brushed against his arm, he could feel how aroused she was, and how she would let him do anything he wanted to her.

Trouble was he did not want her. He wanted Paris, her round voluptuous body pressed against his. Not this skinny overly exposed woman in her hot pants and revealing top. He smelt her arousal, but the scent on his nostrils was all wrong. It repelled him, his hard length received these signals and decided not to cooperate. He was not having sex tonight.

Not with this woman, or any other that was not the one. His temper flared, she had trapped him with her open naivety. Maybe a witch had put a spell on him; he tried to remember if he had had any trouble with one of them in his bar lately. No.