Matched To His Bear: An M/M Mpreg Shifter Dating App Romance (The Dates of Our Lives Book 2)

by Lorelei M. Hart

  But while my mind was distracted, he rubbed his coarse stubble over my jaw, sending a message to my ass and my length. One hardened while the other was drenched in slick. Please don’t let me leave a wet patch on his pants.

  “Come back to me,” his gravelly voice instructed.

  “I’m right here, but it sounds as though you have to leave.”

  “Work,” he grunted. “Not far. We have five minutes.”

  Using two fingers, I walked them over his arm to his lips. “What can we do in five minutes?”

  He bared his teeth. “Plenty. But I don’t have time for a shower.”

  I coughed, hoping he hadn’t been paying attention to my slack-jawed expression, and to cover up any awkwardness, I parted his shirt and peered at the tattoo that spanned his chest.

  Bear. Male, I guessed as the word appeared in my head, though I was no expert. It was claws and teeth and fierceness, and my first instinct was to cower and cover it with Brad’s shirt. There was also a rawness and anger.

  But as I studied the detail: the deep brown all-seeing eyes; the despair that had the animal’s fur standing at attention; the teeth used to both protect and feed itself; instead of terror, my emotion changed to understanding. Melancholy. That’s what it was telling me.

  I traced over it and Brad shivered, placing his huge palm atop my hand, pressing it to his chest. With the regular throbbing of his heart underneath, I placed my lips over the tattoo.

  Brad’s other arm wrapped around me, cocooning me in his warmth. His mouth on my ear whispering, “I gotta go,” reminded me of when I was a kid and my mother took away my blankie to be washed. I’d stand forlornly waiting until she hung it on the line, and then I’d grab it, placing one end on my cheek until it dried. Or she yelled at me to come inside. One of the two.

  “Wish you didn’t,” I mumbled, my lips on the bear’s snout. “But I get it.” I got off his lap and adjusted my shirt. No way was Corey going to see my disheveled appearance because for sure he’d still be at my place waiting to hear about the date.

  “Can I drop you somewhere? At home?” he asked as he ran his fingers through his hair and rebuttoned his shirt.

  “No. You go.” We were standing outside his place and he was waiting for a ride share as he’d drunk too much alcohol. I wasn’t planning on telling him I was walking home, even though it’d probably take me an hour.

  “I’ll call you,” he promised.

  “You don’t have my number.”

  “I’ll send a message through the app.” And then he was gone, the scarlet orbs of the car’s rear lights standing out in the darkness as the driver braked at the corner.

  I lied. I wasn’t walking. I was skipping and clicking my heels as they did in 1940s musicals. The cool night air on my cheeks was just what I needed to calm the frenzy inside me, and the sixty minutes it took me to reach home had me organizing my muddled thoughts. Sort of. That amounted to, “I really like him.”

  That scent. Was it Brad’s aroma I’d picked up at the airport over a year ago? Or had my mind been playing tricks on me, similar to when eyewitnesses identify the wrong suspect, convinced they’re correct. Was it that I was so desperate for affection, I’d latched on to the first date I’d had in ages? I didn’t have the answers.

  And what of my dream? There was so much to unpack. I tucked that away for another time. Now I wanted to climb into bed and go over every detail of our evening.

  Contrary to my expectations, Corey had left, though wine was chilling in the fridge, the bed was made with freshly laundered sheets, and there were chocolates on both pillows.

  Even his manic unpacking which transformed my haphazard housekeeping into a calming hideaway where everything had its place didn’t distract me as I undressed, and after remembering to place my clothes in the hamper, I got into bed.

  It was little more than an hour since we parted and I missed Brad. But something niggled at me, tapping me on the shoulder and forcing me to confront it. What if he’d done that age-old dating trick where he’d arranged for a friend to call him as a way out of a crap date? My heart contracted and my belly churned. What a downer.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” a voice of reason stated in my head. “He’d have done it earlier at the restaurant, not brought you back to his place.”

  Of course! I was worried for nothing. Jumping out of bed, I grabbed the shirt I’d worn and snuggled it. That fragrance had been part of my dreams and now it shared my bed. Inhaling the perfume that saturated the cotton fabric, I vowed never to wash it. I’d have to hide it from Corey.

  The phone beeped. Speak of the devil! I ignored it. I wasn’t ready to share my… was it happiness or infatuation? Too soon for the former, definitely the latter. Another ding. Shit. If I didn’t respond, he’d be at my door at dawn wanting deets.

  But my hand trembled and a hot flush sprang up over my cheeks and chest. Brad! Hi. That was the first message.

  And the second. You awake?

  Yes! Yes, I’m here. Way over the top but I was kicking myself for not answering sooner.

  Sorry I had to dash off. Life of a lawyer.

  I get it. Professors of English Lit rarely get called out in the middle of the night. I paused in my typing. Though occasionally Dickens’ characters need a talking to.

  Ha ha! I’m an uncultured SOB. You’re lucky I’ve read Charles Dickens!

  I got a laugh out of him even though it was a written one. Hoping I was doing the right thing, I tapped out, I had fun tonight.

  Me too came the quick response.

  We shared phone numbers because this texting thing was tedious and arranged to speak tomorrow. I had a late start but wouldn’t be done til 9 p.m. and he was out of town most of the day.

  Bye.

  Bye. I was tempted to add, “I miss you,” but it was too soon.

  Eight

  Brad

  “Riddle me this—” I stared down the two teens that had in effect ruined my evening with their stupid-ass pride and new-found fur. “Why do you think I live in the city and not here full-time?” I was standing in a clearing behind our den house with two hormone-filled teens who got pissed over a freaking scratch on a car door for fuck’s sake.

  “Because it would look weird if the entire law office lived like frat brothers?” Kyle, the youngest of the two and the car door scratcher, guessed.

  “No. That’s a good reason, but not one I’d thought about.” It at least showed he thought about what I’d asked unlike Gianni who was still working on controlling his bear. The stupid scratch wasn’t even intentional. “Gianni, care to wager a guess?”

  “Because you have money?”

  “Wrong. I do have money, but that has jack shit to do with why I sleep across town instead of my place here. Do you want to know why?” My eyes were now all bear. I was done with them. A stupid fucking challenge—really? Did they not understand the severity of their actions?

  Of course they didn’t. They were teens, which was why den law allowed the Beta to be called in and stop the bullshit before blood was shed. Still, a little common sense would be nice.

  They both bobbed their heads up and down, their fear rolling off of them in droves. Good. Maybe it would prevent this crap from happening again.

  “I live there so I don’t have to deal with all of this crap after a long day of work. And really? An official challenge? Was it worth losing a brother wolf over? You drive a 1993 Aspire for goodness sake. How that is even on the road is a miracle. Chances are the bike that ran into it cost more and has more damage to it.”

  “Is your bike wrecked, Kyle?” Gianni’s eyes opened wide. Had he not even considered that? It was official. I didn’t have the patience for this bullshit.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get to look.” Kyle shrugged. “You kind of challenged me before I even got off the ground.”

  “Well—answer me—is that worth your brother bear?” I asked.

  “No, Beta Brad,” Gianni bared his neck. “I fucked up. I officially
request the challenge be withdrawn.” He mumbled the words I needed to hear.

  “And it is so,” I bellowed out so all the nosey ears that had gathered would be appeased and be on their merry way to gossip town.

  “I should bleed you both where you stand.” I wouldn’t, but I should and they needed to know that. “Is this done?” They both nodded their heads like little bobble dolls. “Then both of you go home. Tomorrow you are to report to housekeeping and ask for the worst, most disgusting job they have, then do it. Then go to groundskeeping and do the same.” They both agreed and left chatting away about the bike and making sure it was all right like nothing had ever happened.

  “You’re too soft on them.” Barry stepped out of the shadows. He was as irritating as his father, Barrett, only worse because his eyes were set on me. “They’re just going to do it again. If they were my young,” he settled his hands on his belly, “I would bring them up right.” He was so not subtle in his hints that he wanted kids and that I would be a good mate, but this belly-hand thing was new. I fucking hated it.

  “I’m sure you would.” He would not. He was always angling to get what he wanted in life, and that would mean those hypothetical cubs would be subjected to being manipulated. He very much should not have kids—or even a puppy. “Excuse me.” I brushed past him, calling back over my shoulder, “I need to go.”

  I walked over to Soren who was standing on the patio. This was one of the only things me, as Beta, had sole power over. By den law, Soren wasn’t even to be present because some elders a long freaking time ago felt that challenges could be manipulated by an Alpha or some shit. They believed an Alpha’s ultimate power over the den may sway the challenge in one direction. The history books weren’t exactly clear on the reason or how a Beta would be any different than an Alpha, but here I was missing out on my date.

  “What a waste of my time.” I sighed, walking past him and inside. I didn’t want Barry to get the idea he should join us.

  He very much should not.

  “You were a dumbass kid once too,” he reminded me as he followed me in. “Come. I’ll get you a drink for your troubles.” I wasn’t going to argue with him on that. It wasn’t like I could go home to my mate—he’d gone to his own place and I had no idea where that was or if he would even want me there. I could sleep in my room here, but who was I fooling? My bear was too fucking restless for that.

  Gods I wanted to be with Gabe.

  We ended up in the Alpha Suite, a whiskey in my hand.

  “Are the boys done?” he asked, plopping down into his oversized armchair.

  “Gianni snapped and fast. I wonder if we should insist he take a job on den lands instead of working at the fast food place. If he snaps there, things could get ugly.”

  “Probably not a bad idea,” he agreed. “You couldn’t pay me enough to go through puberty again.”

  “Same.” I took a long slow sip of my whiskey, savoring the taste. It wasn’t as good as the taste of my mate, but it was good. Real good. “Saved the good stuff for me.” I leaned against the counter, my bear not ready to sit. He wanted to run, but I couldn’t allow it. The way he was raging to get out, he’d hunt down my mate, and as creative as I was, I couldn’t see a way that would end well.

  “Sorry I had to call you on your date—or at least I assume I should apologize since you answered the phone ‘Someone better be dead.’” He mimicked my tone.

  “I am not in the mood.” I set my glass down on the counter and stomped my sorry ass toward the door, ignoring his chuckling in the background. I didn’t want to talk about any of this and especially not the human part. Soren would be cool about it, but that didn’t mean I was ready for the conversation. The only conversation I wanted to have was with my mate and that wasn’t going to happen.

  “I have things to do.” I walked out the door letting it close a little too loudly. I had an empty home to get to and a mate to not text because humans had that weird wait to text or call thing.

  Fuck it.

  I was messaging him anyway.

  My bear wouldn’t allow me not to.

  Nine

  Gabe

  “Not that.”

  I ripped off a tee and pulled on another.

  “God no!” Corey inspected his nails as he lay on my bed with his feet crossed, sipping wine he’d snuck from my fridge.

  “What then?” I asked

  He was sulking because I’d told him I didn’t need his help choosing what to wear for my date. My second with Brad. And now he was inspecting his almost-empty glass and hurling insults in my direction.

  “I need your help, Corey. Please.”

  His eyes flicked in my direction. I wasn’t out of the dog house yet. He was also pissed because he suspected I was holding back on deets about Brad and our first date. And he was right. But how could I explain a troubled and yet cherished dream that featured none other than… I couldn’t say it. The truth was just out of reach, and each time I scrambled for the meaning and opened a door, another one blocked my path.

  The dream and the incident at the airport were connected. I just couldn’t work out where Brad fit in. Not the shadowy, primitive presence, who never materialized—I hadn’t figured that out yet—but real-life Brad, the lawyer, with the intoxicating scent. Not now, Gabe. I’d driven myself crazy the last few days with diagrams and arrows and lists. That was Corey’s thing, not mine.

  Corey topped up his glass and the subtle clinking had me focus on him. “The reason I haven’t told you much is… I really like him. Talking about it, putting it into the universe feels as though I’m going to jinx it.”

  “Okay. I get that.” The glass was on the bedside table—on top of a coaster, of course—and he bounded off the bed. “This T-shirt shows off your pecs.”

  I peered downward at my chest glancing from left to right. “I have pecs?”

  He ignored me. “Get rid of those jeans. They’re too tight.”

  I threw up my hands. “That’s the point.”

  He tapped his nose. “Good thinking, Batman! But you’re going to play mini-golf. There’ll be twisting, stretching, flexing, and brushing against one another. If you can’t bend down, he’ll think something’s wrong.”

  “Fine.” I put on what he suggested and grabbed my messenger bag. “You’re not staying here.”

  He downed the rest of his wine. “I wasn’t planning on it. That time I was getting rid of dust bunnies under your bed and you and whatshisface had sex scarred me for life.”

  I shoved him out the door, saying. “Oh, please. The next day you’d typed a list of new techniques for me to try along with helpful diagrams.”

  “I was only being supportive,” he muttered as he got in his car and took off.

  My car, which I’d bought secondhand, had a dent on the passenger side which was my fault, and a scratch along the driver’s door. Again, my fault. But it got me to work every day and for that I was grateful.

  We’d arranged to meet at the indoor mini golf course. This was a glow-in-the-dark course which I’d heard about but never tried. I figured we get some laughs and avoid any possible uncomfortable silences which often happened when you were forced to sit opposite someone in a restaurant.

  The course was themed and we could choose jungle, underwater, outer space, or forest. I was early as I hoped to be lounging casually near the entrance pretending to be immersed in a book when Brad arrived. But I’d forgotten the book and he had beaten me there.

  “Hi,” I said shyly as I strolled over to him. Last time we’d seen one another, he’d been fondling me. So, did we shake on it, give one another a peck on the cheek, or shove our tongues down one another’s throat? A, B or C.

  Brad placed a hand on the small of my back and pulled me to him. Option D. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “I’ve played golf, because as a lawyer, a lot of business gets done on the course, but never done this. Hope I don’t embarrass myself.” He may have been talking golf but his eyes were r
aking over me. Damn this man was hot. If this wasn’t a family-friendly place, I’d drag him to the bathroom and have him fuck me senseless.

  “Trust me, it’s not that hard.” I sounded as though I was an expert, but hadn’t played myself since I was kid. And hadn’t displayed any prowess even then. “And this is kind of fun. Everything glows and they give you 3D glasses so the experience comes alive.”

  He nuzzled my ear. “If you say so.”

  But I couldn’t reply. His warm breath on my ear stunned me into silence along with his aroma. It was as though it was tracing its wispy fingers over my face, memorizing it as a blind person would when meeting someone for the first time.

  “F-Forest?” I stammered.

  “Huh?” His eyes had a faraway look to them and his wary expression had me wonder what I’d said or done to prompt that.

  “The theme.” I jerked my head toward the large images glowing on the wall behind the ticket booth.

  “Ummm… let’s not. How about the jungle?”

  “Fine.” I took out my wallet, but he brushed my hand away. Eying a bunch of kids who’d arrived—probably here for someone’s birthday—I cursed them because while I’d always considered sex in public a bit icky, my skin was on fire, goosebumps prickled over it. I was running hot and cold. “It’s my treat. I suggested this place.”

  “I earn way more than an English professor.”

  Oh, no, no, no, no! “That’s very sweet of you, Brad. But that’s not how things work.”

  He glowered at me. “It is where I come from. The alpha pays.”

  The guy selling tickets gave me a ‘Hurry up’ glance, but I was having none of it. “We’re equal partners in this… this… this thing between us.”

  A kid at the back of the line spoke in a loud whisper. “Do you think they’re doing it?” His friends tittered and the dads accompanying the group shushed them. Brad turned to the child, his eyes narrowing, a fierce expression on his face and growled. While the children huddled behind the grownups, his growly tone turned me on.