Bear Meets Girl

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A fresh ice pack was placed on her knee and Cella opened her eyes, smiling up at the bear standing over her.

After pulling up his pants, he’d carried her up to his room and laid her down on his bed, covering her with a blanket. Then he was gone and Cella was too tired and sated to really give a shit. She might have dozed, but not for long.

“The swelling’s down,” he told her, adjusting the ice pack.

“It usually doesn’t last too long. Although, last night I thought it would last forever.”

“It must be a nightmare after every game.”

“It is. But what can I do?”

“They can’t fix it?”

“Sure. If I want a full knee replacement.”

“The way we heal, would that really be a problem?”

“No. As long as I never want to play pro hockey again.”

“Right. Rule number twenty-three A.” Geez, he knew all the pro shifter hockey rules by code, including the one that said any replacements or additions to a shifter’s body meant automatic dismissal from the league.

Cella chuckled. “Super fan.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to let my geekiness flow.”

“It’s all right. You can’t help yourself.” Awkward silence descended after that, so Cella said, “I’m cold.”

“Oh.” He jumped up. “I’ll get you another blanket.”

“Why would I need a blanket at all when I have a polar bear?”

He frowned, confused. “Huh?”

She gestured to the bed and demanded, “Cuddling.”

“Oh. Oh, right.” He shrugged. “Didn’t want to crowd.”

“Did I bare a fang? Claw at major arteries? Roar and roar and roar until you run screaming from the room?”

“Not that I noticed.”

“Then you’re not crowding. She-predators always let you know when you’re crowding. Didn’t date many of us in your past, huh?”

“I’ve dated a few.”

“A few? After you were eighteen?”

“What does my age have to do with—”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why am I still waiting?”

Crush started to get on the bed and Cella growled. “What are you doing?”

“What now?”

“You’re dressed.”

“Just my jeans.”

“I want naked cuddling.”

“Are you always this demanding?”

“Feline,” she reminded him, making sure to sound as haughty as possible. Not really hard.

“What if I don’t feel like being naked?”

“Naked!” she roared. He quickly looked down and she bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t start laughing, too.

“Fine. Naked it is.” He stripped off his boots and jeans and crawled in beside her.

“Happy now?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I’m always happy when I get what I want.” She snuggled in closer, keeping her leg bent so her ice pack stayed put.

“How are you feeling?” Crush asked her, his big hand rubbing up and down her side.

“Much better.” She lifted her face. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful. And you know it.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like to hear it. Bruises, cuts gone?”

Big fingers brushed her cheeks. “Not yet, but I doubt Meg will see much of anything by tomorrow.”

“Good. The kid gets so worked up when she sees real damage.”

“The way you play? She must see that all the time.”

“She’s a smart kid. She knows when it’s from hockey or training with Smith or dealing with a family issue, and when it’s from a situation that could have had her sobbing at my graveside.”

“She hates what you do.”

“Yeah. She does. But KZS is here to protect our own. And as long as there’s been a KZS, there’s been a Malone part of it. Usually more than one. Although, it was easier when all I did was take out stuff from a distance.”

“You don’t anymore?”

“No. I mean I still do, but like I told you, they want to move me up the ranks, and in order to do that, I have to have more fieldwork than just eliminations. Honestly, anyone with a good eye and a steady hand can take out a target a thousand yards away at nearly a hundred stories high with adjustments made for heavy winds and inclement weather.”

The bear leaned back a bit, and gazed at her. “Not really.”

Crush knew he was in deep. Deeper than he’d meant to ever be, but what could he do? Bears ran on emotion. If you startled them, they killed. If they felt trapped, they killed. If they were hungry ...

And those bears that were human most of the time were no different. When he’d busted through that roof door, all he saw was Cella on her knees and a gun aimed at her head. After that, there was no negotiating for him. No ordering anyone to put down their weapons. Instead, he’d just roared and started shooting. To protect her and to protect his team.

And instead of coming home and thinking about that, as bears liked to do—think, analyze, debate—he came home and fucked a feline. A feline who continued to refer to him as her “pretend boyfriend.” Like that was normal.

Then again, nothing about this woman was normal. Not even for a shifter was she normal. Because she was a Malone and that meant she was different from all the other tigers out there in the world.

“What’s wrong? You’re scowling at me like I decked your dog... .” Cella looked around. “Where is your dog?”

“At Mrs. Hanson’s. My next-door neighbor. She babysits Lola when I’m out.”

“You have a babysitter for the dog?”

“She gets lonely.”

“Your. Dog. Just face it already.”

“Let it go.”

“So why are you scowling?”

“Just wondering ... we’ve had sex. Am I still your pretend boyfriend?”

“Why? Are you pretend breaking up with me?”

Crush blew out a breath. “Forget I asked.” He gazed at her. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?”

“Anything.” Then he added, “Anything that doesn’t involve your family. Just you.”

“Oh. Wow. Okay. Uh ...” He watched her struggle with that simple request. “Um.” Finally, after what felt like a really long time, she said, “I don’t like beetles.”

“The band?”

“No. The insect.”

“You don’t like beetles?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I think they’re gross.”

“What about spiders?”

“Don’t mind spiders. They deal with ants and flies.”

“I’m sure beetles serve a purpose.”

“Don’t care.”

“Okay.”

“Now you’re judging?”

“I’m not judging. You don’t like beetles. That’s okay. I don’t like lizards.”

“What’s wrong with lizards?”

“You’re going to judge me about lizards but I can’t judge you about beetles?”

“When you ask me a lot of personal questions ...”

“I asked you one.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why ask me a personal question? Why do you care?”

Annoyed that she was clearly annoyed, Crush sat up until his back rested against the headboard, and he pulled her onto his lap, replacing the ice pack on her knee, then wrapping his hands around her waist. “I ask you questions because I give a shit. Because despite my best intentions to not get emotionally involved, I like you.”

“Why didn’t you want to get emotionally involved?”

“Because you’re crazy.”

“Oh. You’ve got a point.” She looked off and said, “I really like Australia.”

“Okay.”

“I went once. For vacation, not a job. Hung out with the dingoes.”

“Full dingoes or—”

“Shifter dingoes.” She nodded. “They were fun.”

She pressed both her hands to his chest, fingers stroking. “Maybe we can go out sometime.”

“What do you mean go out?”

“You know ... out.” She unleashed her claws, kneading his chest. “Like a date out.”

Crush closed his eyes, his entire body tightening. Lips pressed against his throat, fangs grazed the tendons.

“Is that a yes?”

“Huh?”

“All that groaning you’re doing, I was wondering if that was a ‘yes, let’s have an eventual date.’ ”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

He gripped her shoulders and rolled until she was flat on her back and he was between her legs. The damn ice pack long forgotten.

“Am I going as your date or your pretend date?”

She brought her hands up, dug her claws into his scalp, scratching him right at the base of his neck—which felt fucking awesome!

“Real date,” she promised. “But still pretend boyfriend.”

Crush grinned. The feline would always be difficult, wouldn’t she?

“I can live with that.”

“Good. Now where’s the rest of those condoms?”