Angel and Slate

by Carina Wilder

  She wondered how the bear inside made him perceive her; how a woman such as herself must seem to a man with the heart of a grizzly.

  As the two men spoke, Slate’s eyes had searched hers out a few times, as though he was speaking about her. So she decided to have some fun with him. She’d always enjoyed dancing, the freedom of moving around to a beat, whether slow or fast. And now she took advantage of the pulsing rhythms coming up through the floor to improvise a dance for him; a sort of faux mating ritual, inviting him to return to her.

  Smiling, she swayed her hips, the cue still in hand as she shimmied her body around it. Signalling him to come over, to come play with her. Would he do it? Could he relax enough to let her take him by the hand and move his own body?

  And as he walked towards her, beers in hand, the newly formed smile on his face answered the question: he was, it seemed, very happy to be with her.

  “What’s that grin about?” she asked, gratefully accepting one stein, her body still gyrating to the beat.

  “I dunno. I just realized that life’s pretty good.”

  “You only just realized it?” she asked before taking a sip of the refreshing liquid and putting it down. She took his beer and laid it next to hers before grabbing his hand to lead him to an empty spot on the floor, not far from where they stood. “Tell me, why’s life so good?”

  “Let’s say that watching you over here, that cue in your hand, a beautiful woman waiting for me—it’s a nice picture, one that I wasn’t sure I’d ever see. I appreciate it is all.”

  “Good. So come dance with me,” she said.

  He laid his hands on her waist and moved with her, his tall form impressive in its fluidity. Their hips moved together, bodies pressing gently into one another.

  “You’re good at this,” she said, her tone breathless and admiring.

  “It’s been a while. But I always did enjoy dancing in the old days.”

  “I can tell. But a dancing bear—isn’t that some twisted cliché?”

  He took her left hand in his right and pulled her closer before twirling her around, sending her spiralling away from him, a peal of feminine laughter rising from her throat. She made her way back to him, at which point he pulled her close and dipped her backwards, his strong arms holding onto her waist. She looked up into his eyes—those gorgeous, inquiring, deep eyes of his—and for a moment her smile faded.

  The look on his face, playful just a moment earlier, had altered to one of pure hunger. Desire. As he held her there, in front of everyone, he looked as though he might claim her for his own, and there was no part of her that would have resisted.

  His breath caressed her lips in hot strokes, sweet and alluring. His scent was pure sex, his expression pure need.

  And she so, so wanted him to kiss her then and there.

  But instead, he simply stared into her eyes, his own seemingly trying to work her out. Perhaps he wanted to assess her intentions—to figure out how noble they were, at least where he and his daughter were concerned. Maybe a part of him knew that she’d come into this only looking for a simple, temporary wedding date. And if not, maybe she should tell him.

  “Listen, Slate, I…” she began as he pulled her up slowly, her palms pressing gently into his chest. But the words didn’t want to come. Not like this. The moment had been perfect, and she didn’t want to ruin it with the ugly truth.

  “You?”

  “I am, apparently, speechless,” she chuckled.

  “Well that’s a first, from what I can tell.”

  “You do funny things to me, grizzly. Strange things, and I don’t quite know what to make of them.”

  “Good.” He pulled away, freeing her from his grip, and she pressed a hand to her own chest as she caught her breath.

  “Speaking of which,” she said, grasping the nearby pool cue which was still leaning on the side of the table. “You told me that you’d show me how to hold this thing.”

  “Something tells me that you know perfectly well how to hold long, hard shafts of wood,” he chuckled. “But if you insist, I suppose I could…” He let out a less than genuine sigh. “I might have to touch you again, though, and well, that would be just awful.”

  “Yes, it would,” she said, wondering if he knew what the thought of his hands on any part of her was doing to her body. Something told her that he knew all too well; that his grizzly knew, too. She turned to the table, the cue in hand, bending her body over so that her backside jutted out towards him. In a deliberately awkward motion, she aimed for the cue ball.

  Slate let out a chuckle. The grizzly shifter was lightening up and enjoying himself—and her. No more nervousness; no more holding back. He was going to have fun if it was the last thing he did.

  “Is this right?” she asked, deliberately thrusting her ass towards his body as though to appear extra uncoordinated, but of course it only served to make her look extra curvaceous, and to send blood flooding to his cock as he watched her.

  “Not quite,” he said, slipping up behind her, draping his long, muscular arms around her body. “First, you shouldn’t squeeze the cue like you’re trying to rob it of its last breath because it killed your family.”

  “No?” she asked, her voice coming out in a whisper as she felt his body against hers, hot and firm. So, it seemed that he had a cue of his own, impressively long, thick and hard, only his jeans and hers between their very eager bodies.

  “Is this better?” she asked, not caring a whit about her grip on the wooden stick.

  “Much,” he said, his own voice soft in her ear as she felt a twitch, a pulse from behind. She definitely wasn’t the only one whose body was reacting to this delicious situation.

  “So now, aim the cue straight at the ball, making sure it doesn’t go flying upwards,” he half moaned. Angel thrust her right elbow forward, shooting the cue with it and striking the side of the ball, which flew clumsily in the wrong direction entirely.

  “Okay, that was a good attempt,” Slate said. “But I can see that I’ll have to give you a lot more lessons.”

  He was still pressed against her, but now his hands had migrated to her waist, pulling her gently backwards into him. Angel, losing control, let the cue drop from her hands and pressed her palms flat against the table’s felt. A moment later she felt one hand peeling layers of blond hair away from her neck, then his lips slipping upwards along the white flesh.

  She inhaled, holding her breath in her chest as he kissed his way along her skin. His right arm was fully around her now, drawing her body to his in a sensual display, seemingly indifferent to any potential spectators. Instinct, that’s what this was. Desire and instinct. His animal coming to the fore.

  Her chin lifted, welcoming those lips, that tongue tasting the salt of her skin. It felt so good—so good that she wanted him with everything in her. Now a clamp of teeth on her flesh—gentle—but still, there was a ferocity to the bite, a feral gesture of possession. These were the canines of a grizzly, not the gentle nuzzle of a shy man.

  A moment later she let out a soft yelp of pain. Almost immediately he released her, backing away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Oh, Jesus. I didn’t mean—”

  She turned around, one hand propping her against the edge of the table as she rubbed her neck with the other. “It’s okay,” she said. “Actually, I quite liked it. That was the bear, wasn’t it?”

  The big man stepped forward, hands moving to her hips again. “Yes. He’s eager to come out since I met you. But I didn’t expect him to be quite so direct.”

  She nodded. “Good. I like the idea of him. I like you, Slate.” One of her small hands moved up to his face, the backs of her nails grating upwards along his stubble. “Everything in you. You’re not what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  She laughed, gesturing with her chin towards the beer that was sitting nearby on a table. “I thought you’d be a pint of light beer. Not the complicated mix of distilled scents and flavours that y
ou actually are.”

  “There’s nothing complicated about me,” he protested, a smile on his face. “Though light beer? That’s a little insulting.”

  “Well I was wrong, and so are you. Everything about you is complicated.” Her voice was low, inviting. “You’re quiet, but I get the impression that you can be loud. You’re gentle but powerful. You’re closed off and open, all at once. And…” Her hand slipped around his neck, pulling his face towards hers. “You’re sexy as hell.”

  She pressed her lips to his. She, the initiator of passion, he the willing recipient. It was only a moment before their tongues found one another, intertwining, seeking, demanding. And she was sinking then, her mind deep inside a quagmire of thoughts and emotions. Was this too much? Too serious? Too…anything?

  But his body told her that it was all just right as he pulled her to him again, his cock issuing a stark warning through his jeans: I want you. I need you. I would take you here on this table.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered when they’d had a chance to take a breath. “Pool lessons can wait.”

  “Agreed.”

  When they were outside they kissed again, her back against his truck, his hands tucked inside her sweater, slipping up her sides, forcing restraint upon themselves. “Where can we go?” he asked when he’d paused to draw in another deep inhale.

  “My place. I have a very large, very lonely bed.”

  “Bed, schmed,” he replied. “As long as you have a floor, I’m all yours. For that matter, I’d be with you on the cold, wet ground.”

  “Oh good, because I have those things, too.”

  They hopped into the truck, the experience a far cry from their first moments in the vehicle. When Slate had slipped into the driver’s seat his hand moved almost immediately to her left thigh, sliding slowly along its length, upwards as he drove. Gone was the reserved, uncomfortable man whom she’d met a few hours earlier. This was a grizzly shifter, ready to get laid. Ready to claim the woman next to him with his entire body.

  She’d inhaled again, she realized, and hadn’t yet released the air even as his fingers delved into the inner curve of her thigh. In a moment his pinky was resting against the seam between her legs, and she wished more than anything in the world that her jeans would dissolve under his touch, that he could stroke her like that all the way home.

  “I like this,” she said when she could breathe again. Then she laughed. “What a ridiculous thing to say. I like it when you touch me between my legs—like that isn’t incredibly obvious.”

  “It is obvious,” he said, that gorgeous profile smiling, showing the teeth that had marked her earlier. “More obvious than you know.”

  “You—you can smell it, right?” she asked. “You know I’m turned on like crazy for you.”

  “I do.”

  “What does that do to you?”

  “It makes me nuts,” he said, his face momentarily turning to hers. “Let’s just say that I’m having a really hard time moving the truck in a straight line right now.”

  Angel laughed. “Well, try not to hit any trees. I want to get you to my place in one piece, so I can take you apart.”

  “I’m planning on it.”

  Chapter 8

  When they’d reached the front door Angel opened it, stepping inside before Slate and quickly removing her boots. She turned back to him once he’d closed the door tight, her right hand immediately pressing itself into his chest before she slipped her left around his neck.

  The big man leaned down, searching for the next kiss, which she offered happily. Even though he’d bent towards her, she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach him, her arms locking around him.

  After a moment she pulled back, took his hand and guided him to the couch in the neighbouring living room, pushing him backwards before climbing atop him.

  “Oh, wow,” he said, his hands slipping up her waist as he stared at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You. On me. I just can’t entirely believe that I’m here right now, under a beautiful woman. It seems surreal.”

  Angel’s lips met his once more, soft and tender, her tongue’s tip pushing past his teeth to scout for his. “Does this feel less surreal?” she asked as she pulled back.

  “I’m not sure. Try it again.”

  Another kiss. Slate’s fingertips were digging into her now, reminding her of his teeth in her neck. Ownership. Possession. He was taking her for his, and she was loving every second of the conquest.

  Her knees dug into the cushions on either side of him as she rocked her pelvis forward, pushing into his massive erection through their clothing. It only made him pull her further in, her body feeling how thick, how enormous he was under those damned jeans.

  It was he who finally spoke the words: “Listen, Angel—I think I want you naked. Is that okay?”

  “Hmm, let’s see,” she said, crossing her arms as though deep in thought. “Yes. Yes, it’s so much more than okay.”

  “I should warn you, though—I haven’t done this in a while.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “No, I mean, I haven’t done this in years. I think you might find that parts of me have rusted over.”

  Her teeth gleamed white as she smiled at him. “You’re so adorable,” she said. “How can a man be so sexy and so cute at the same time?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it’s in my genes.”

  “In your jeans, definitely. And I’m fine with re-deflowering you,” she said. “If that’s what it takes. Though I suspect that all the skills you acquired ages ago have stuck with you. Just like your grizzly’s always in there somewhere.”

  “My grizzly,” he murmured, his eyes moving to another part of the room, clouding over with thoughtfulness. He seemed to Angel almost to be recalling a dream.

  “What’s he like? I mean, other than a little bitey?”

  Slate laughed. “Yeah, sorry again. The bear is…complicated,” he said. “And neglected. I haven’t spent time in that form in months. It’s like all my natural instincts are stripping themselves away.”

  “But why? Why would you forego shifting?”

  “A lot of reasons. There’s Ruby,” he said, his gaze meeting hers once again. “I don’t want to encourage her.”

  “Why not?”

  Slate didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he drew a finger along her collarbone, then let it follow the line of her right arm downwards. “Let’s not talk about it right now,” he said. “I want to work on one set of instincts at a time.”

  He kissed her where his finger had been, pulling her towards him, hands on her back. And then he bent, lips brushing against her breast as she inhaled violently, a sharp intake of breath signalling her arousal.

  Slowly Angel took her sweater by its hem and pulled upwards, stripping it off and over her head so that she wore nothing on her top half but her dark burgundy lace bra.

  “Beautiful,” Slate whispered, his eyes drawn to her chest, her white belly, the softness of it all. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  He dipped her backwards as he had when they’d danced earlier, this time slowly, his motions languid as his lips glided along her flesh, delicate trails leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

  “I want you to know,” he said between kisses, “I don’t do this. This…whatever it is. I don’t hook up with women. I never have.”

  “Okay,” she said. Kiss me more.

  “And I’m not going to screw you around tonight and then walk out of here and never call again.”

  “Again—okay.” The words came, but she wondered again for a moment if she was the one screwing him around. Maybe she should tell him about the wedding, about her hunt for a date. Maybe it was only fair.

  But her thought was interrupted by a series of chiming notes coming from somewhere in Slate’s pants.

  He pulled her back up, sitting her firmly on his lap as his expression turned sheepish.

  “Sorry, but
I have to get it—it could be the sitter,” he said.

  “It’s okay. It’s fine.” She said the brief sentences easily enough, but Angel wondered if she’d actually meant them.

  Damn it. So this was a taste of what it was like to date a parent.

  “Hello?”

  A stream of unintelligible syllables came from the other end of the line and Slate’s face changed again. Slowly, Angel climbed off of him, stepping across the room to offer a little privacy.

  “Ruby’s not feeling well,” he said when he’d hung up “The sitter thinks she might have a fever. I should…”

  “Go,” she replied, trying to resist the urge to bite her bottom lip in disappointment. “It’s fine. No problem.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I may be a selfish little thing, but not so selfish that I’d tell you not to go look after your ailing child.”

  Slate gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to the door to pull on his shoes and coat. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow morning,” he said.

  “Okay.” The word came once again, her tone painted with greedy disappointment, and Angel cursed herself for showing her true colours. It really was selfish to wish that he’d ignored the ringing phone and continued to play with her. She gave herself a hard, internal pinch as punishment. “I hope Ruby is all right,” she added, her voice softening, trying to make up for her ridiculous initial reaction. “Please let me know in the morning.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  * * *

  As Slate made his way towards his truck outside, an unseen menace ate away at his chest.

  The mood had changed abruptly when the phone had rung, as though a giant wall had slammed down between them, though neither had wanted to acknowledge it. There it was in all its glory: their incompatibility; her inexperience with this aspect of life, and his abundance of experience as a parent.

  So much, in fact, that he no longer had a life to speak of. His bear was in a semi-permanent state of hibernation. And to a woman like Angel he must seem like a pain in the ass. But this was his duty; Ruby was his world and he reminded himself of it as he drove away, leaving a beautiful, shirtless woman behind.