Bear Meets Girl

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Crush pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine. He reached for the door, but stopped and warned, “Do not move until I come get you.”

“I wasn’t.”

He smirked at her. “Liar.”

“All right. Fine. I’ll wait.”

God, the woman was impatient, but considering how much pain Crush was guessing she was in, she wasn’t much of a complainer.

Walking around to the passenger side of his truck, Crush pulled open the door and lifted Cella out. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. “Thanks for this. And for earlier.”

“No problem. You hungry?” He kicked the truck door closed and headed to his porch.

“I could eat.”

“Hope spaghetti’s okay. I only really know how to make spaghetti. And whale blubber, but I figured you’d rather the spaghetti instead.”

She chuckled. “Spaghetti’s fine. Although it’s called pasta now.”

“I’m old school. It’s called spaghetti.”

Still holding Cella in his arms, Crush managed to unlock his metal screen door. He held it open with his foot and juggled his keys until he found the one for the front door, unlocking it and stepping inside.

Crush walked through his house until he reached the kitchen. He placed Cella on top of his kitchen table, then flicked the light on. “Let’s get you some ice for that knee.”

“Okay.”

Crush went to his freezer, where he kept his seal and walrus blubber, and grabbed a couple of ice packs. He turned to walk back over, but stopped. And stared.

“Where, exactly, are your pants?” he asked.

She pointed at a spot over her shoulder. “Over there somewhere.”

“And you took them off because ...”

“Gotta take care of the knee, right? Ice through black denim probably not very effective.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So are you going to bring me that ice pack or should I come over there and get it?”

Crush walked back across the room until he stood in front of her. “I should get you a dishrag or something. You shouldn’t put this right against your skin.”

“Oh, come on. You know I can handle ...” She stopped talking, looked him over. “You’re right. Give me your T-shirt.”

“Why?”

“You want to put a dirty dishrag on me?”

“As opposed to my dirty T-shirt? There’s blood and gunpowder on this thing.”

The feline held her hand out. “Gimme.”

“I have clean ones in the laundry room.”

“But I want the one you’re wearing.” She gave him another once-over. “And I want it now.”

Okay, so her knee was throbbing and she had a headache from getting hit in the face by the big fist and head of a bear. But he was just so cute! And, what was that word? Gallant? Carrying her inside and offering to make her “spaghetti.”

Cute. Cute. Cute.

“Fine. Since you’re so adamant.”

“I am that.”

He placed the ice pack on the table and took off his light jacket, tossing it over one of the chairs. Cella dropped her hands behind her, her palms flat against the wood table, propping her up.

“You sure I can’t just get you—”

“Waiting.”

With a long sigh, Crush reached back with both arms and gathered up his shirt, pulling it over his head and off. And honestly, watching all those muscles flex—and God, there were so many muscles—really did make a girl forget all sorts of aches and pains.

Crush tucked the ice pack inside the shirt and then carefully placed it on Cella’s knee. She winced and, since he was staring at her face, he started to pull back.

“It’s not that bad,” she assured him. “It’s sore but I’ll live.”

Nodding, he settled the ice pack on her. “How is that?”

“Fine.”

He took a step back. “I guess you have your father’s knees.”

Cella scowled. “Big and hairy?”

He blinked in surprise and quickly shook his head. “No. No. I mean, he had the same problem with his right knee. You both skate the same way because of it ... just different knees.”

Cella rubbed her nose. “Wow. You really are a fan.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not. I’m just fascinated by how hyperaware you are about stuff.”

“Those who can skate, do. Those who can’t, obsessively watch and either praise or criticize.”

“Which do you do?”

“Depends on how good you are.”

“That’s right. I’m not as good as my dad.”

“I never said that. I just think you fight more than you skate.”

“I’m the enforcer. I’m supposed to fight.”

“Bullshit. You’re supposed to protect your team.”

Laughing, Cella explained, “I do protect my team. By fighting.”

“Everything is a bare-knuckle brawl to you, isn’t it?”

“No. But it should be. Imagine the shit that could be worked out with a good and proper fight. That’s how we handle it. Business deal goes bad, a bare-knuckle fight fixes it.”

“How does it fix the problem?”

“It just does. Think about it. Politicians can only get their long-winded and boring bills through Congress if they’re willing to raise their fists.” She brought up her fists, snarled a little. The bear shook his head, but he smiled.

“I guess you’re all about anarchy then.”

“No way. Malones have lots of rules and everyone abides by them or they get their asses kicked.”

Since the bear was laughing and smiling—not a scowl in sight—Cella wrapped both arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting cuddle-y,” she answered honestly.

“Your knee is severely swollen, your lip split, you have a black eye, and I think your nose is broken.”

“Oh. Right.” She released him long enough to pop her nose back, eyes crossing from the pain. Shaking that off, she put her arms around his neck again and smiled. “All fixed.”

Crush laughed, then cut it off by clearing his throat. “You are—”

“Amazing? Dynamic? Enthralling?”

“I was going to say nuts. Crazy. Loony tunes.”

“You say tomato, I say whatever. Now come here and kiss me.”

Again, Crush had no idea what to do with this woman. He knew what he’d like to do with her, but he was having a hard time getting past the fact that she’d gotten her bell rung by violent bears. She was bruised, battered, and swollen. Not only that, she’d killed. A lot. Shouldn’t she be somewhere trying to emotionally recover from all that? Or off licking her wounds? Shouldn’t he be getting her tea and making her listen to something soothing and Irish? Like Enya?

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he even suggested such a thing, he’d end up looking like her. Besides, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find her kind of hot right now. Was that weird? That was weird, wasn’t it? For the first time, he regretted that he’d spent most of his time with full-humans. He had no idea how to handle a true She-predator. An apparently horny She-predator.

The scent of her lust made him dizzy and he didn’t even bother to try to stop her when she began to tug him down for that kiss. Even worse, he wasn’t sure he could control his own reactions. He wanted to slam her against the table and take her hard. But then he saw her black eye and he knew he couldn’t do that. Or, at the very least, he shouldn’t do that. He shouldn’t. Right?

“Are you going to kiss me,” she asked when their faces were inches apart, “or just keep staring at me like I might break apart at any second?”

“What if you do?”

“What if I do what?”

“Break apart? You’ve already been bear-handled once tonight.”

She was silent for a long moment. “Are you telling me you’re worried about giving it to me too rough?”

“Yeah. A little. You drive me crazy, Malone. I’m thinking all my gentlemanly ways might hit the skids.”

Her smile was small, pretty. “God,” she whispered, “now I’ve gotta fuck you. You’re making me all squirmy.”

“I’m not trying to—”

“Too late. You did.”

She leaned in, took his mouth with her own. And it was like she was draining all common sense right out of him. He could barely breathe. Knew he could no longer think. Especially when he realized she was actually squirming. Something about knowing he was making her wet made him even crazier. He wasn’t used to feeling crazy, feeling like he had no control.

He knew he had one chance to pull away, to tell her to stop this and when she felt better, they could consider doing this sort of thing properly. He had one chance—and he let it fly right by.

As soon as his arms wrapped around her waist, Cella knew she had him. The way he was gripping the back of her T-shirt, hands twisting in the material. God, and his mouth. When he kissed a girl, he really kissed her. Standing a little taller, making Cella come up with him, his mouth desperately moving against hers, his tongue exploring.

She’d had good kisses before, but never like this one.

And even better was how he felt under her hands. All that hard but smooth skin, bunched-up muscles playing under her fingers.

Yeah, if he really thought she was willing to wait until she was all healed and one hundred percent, he was nuts. Besides, what could she say? She was always horny after a tough night fighting guys who started attacking her for no apparent reason.

Cella moved her hands down to Crush’s waist and pulled him between her legs.

“Wait,” he said, taking his mouth away from hers.

“What?”

“Your leg. I don’t want to hurt it.”

He had a point, but she had to ask, “Because of me or because I’ve got a game coming up?”

He gave a small shrug, his eyes downcast like a little kid’s. “Can’t it be both?”

Too much in lust to feel the need to be angry with the big idiot, she stretched out her good leg and hooked her foot through one of the slats of the kitchen chair. She pulled it closer.

“Sit,” she ordered him.

He tugged the chair closer and sat down. She was, in a word, overjoyed, to see the hard-on the bear was struggling with. Although she was usually a big fan of foreplay, they could do that later. She had one need at the moment and she, like most felines, demanded instant gratification.

Cella grabbed her backpack and unzipped it. “Get your pants off.”

“Uh ... okay.”

While the bear got off his pants and thankfully without her telling him, his boxers, Cella dug deep into her bag until she found the strip of condoms Jai always made sure to shove in any and all bags Cella had.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Jai would say when Cella would find the condoms at the most inopportune times, “it’s just that I’m making sure there are no surprises. We’re both too old for surprises.”

Cella yanked one off and tossed it to the bear. “Put it on.”

“You sure are bossy.”

“Yes. I am.” She wiggled off her panties, maneuvering them around the ice pack, and tossing them in her bag. By then the bear had the condom on.

She motioned with her hands. “Move a little to the left. A little more. Good. Stay there.”

Using her arms, Cella pushed herself off the table and onto the bear’s lap. She smiled when she landed. “Now put me on your cock and let’s get to work.”

And that was around the time Crush started laughing.

“I’m serious!”

“I know you are. That’s what makes it so damn funny.”

“Look, you wanted to protect my precious game legs. This does the trick. I’m all about making things happen.”

“You are such a Marine.”

“I know. Or would you rather I was all lost and confused, the heat of the moment making me an irrational mess?”

“No. That seems to be my job this time around.”

“I really make you crazy, huh?”

“Yeah. You really do.”

“Then stop making me wait. Because we both know I’m one of the few women who can really handle you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. You know it, too. At least your body does. Your cock keeps getting harder the longer we sit here. It’s actually pointing at the ceiling. I’d climb up on it myself but, you know ... game coming up.”

“Shut up.”

Snorting, Cella took his hands and placed them on her waist. “All ya gotta do is pick me up and put me down on it. Trust me when I say, the rest of it will work itself out.”

Crush knew, deep down, that getting this involved with Cella Malone was a one-way ticket to crazyville. His nice, quiet, extremely dangerous life would be turned on its head as soon as he had this woman’s pussy on his cock. His quiet nights at home—when he wasn’t being a cop and risking his life—would be over. There would be no quiet anything with Malone in his life. Was she worth the trouble?

He wasn’t sure, but then she leaned in, sniffed his neck, and gently scraped a fang across his jugular. The last of Crush’s restraint snapped, his hands tightening around her waist. He lifted her up, pulled her in closer, and while staring into her eyes, slammed her down hard on his cock, at the same time bringing up his hips.

The feline roared, her head dropping back, her arms wrapping around his neck. She held on tight, breathing in deep and taking a moment before she looked at him.

Panting hard, they watched each other.

“Well,” she sighed, “that does feel good.”

Crush couldn’t even answer her. He was too wound up. Too hard. God, the things he wanted to do this woman. It was taking every ounce of strength he had to—

“I’m a lot tougher than my pretty eyes and perfect bone structure might lead you to believe, Crushek. I can handle whatever you got for me.”

Unable to form words—at least coherent ones—Crush leaned closer, breathing in her scent. He growled, low, his fangs easing from his gums, his hands sliding up her sides, then her arms.

Crush moved forward, his hands tightening around hers, his body pushing her back until he had the top half of her pressed down to the table. Did he mention he loved how flexible she was? Because she didn’t seem to mind at all how he had her.

And he had her right where he wanted her.

He had her arms pinned above her head with his own, his head pressed against her chest. The low growl he unleashed rumbled through him and straight into her while he slowly rubbed his face against her T-shirt–covered breasts. And the entire time, she still sat in his lap, on his cock, completely filled and ready to burst.

Cella realized she was having trouble catching her breath, her body beginning to shake. It felt really good to have him so close to her, inside her.

But he wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he moving?

Taking both her wrists in one hand, Crush used the other to push up her shirt and then his teeth to rip her bra in half. Her back arched and he took that for the invite it was, wrapping his mouth around her breast, his tongue teasing the nipple. And, uh, what were his lips doing? Because they were doing something amazing. And ridiculously intense. So intense, she tried to move away, but his grip on her wrists only tightened.

She knew what he was doing, the tricky bastard. With every twist and tug and tease of her breast, her pussy tightened around his cock like a vise. His growling grew harsher, louder, and the vibration of it against her flesh had her nearly out of her mind. She panted, she mewled, she might have hissed a few times. Then she was coming. Coming so very hard that she cried out.

The bear lifted his head to gaze at her with those black eyes.

“You all right?” And she wondered if he realized he was still growling at her.

Unable to answer since she was still panting, Cella nodded.

“Good.” Remaining inside her, Crush slowly stood, releasing her arms so that he could carefully lift her legs and drape them over his forearms. “ ’Cause I’m not really done yet.”

Grinning, Cella lifted her arms over her head again and gripped the edge of the table. “Glad to hear it.”

It was too much. She was too much. The way she watched him with those bright gold eyes. She was challenging him. Wasn’t she always, though? And he no longer minded. He was really getting to like it. To like her. Difficult, crazy woman that she was.

Still careful of her leg, Crush stepped close to the table while pulling her out just a bit. She gripped his table so hard, her knuckles turned white. Her demanding gaze never left his face. He knew what she was telling him, without saying a word: “Fuck me as hard as you want. We both know I can take it.”

So that’s exactly what Crush did.

He fucked her hard, gripping her legs tight, his gaze locked with hers. Until her pussy contracted around him again. Her neck arched, her legs shaking in his arms, her panting turning into harsh cries. She was coming again and so was he. Coming so hard, he couldn’t see straight, could barely stand. He could only feel and wow ... did he feel great!

Crush erupted inside her, his breath leaving him in a long rush, his legs nearly buckling. He slammed his elbows against the table to stop from falling and took a moment to get his breath back.

After several long minutes, Cella sighed into the silence, “Holy shit! You’re the best pretend boyfriend ever.”