Page 26 of Grizzly's Grump
"You think I give a damn why you came?" I snap. "You shift into a grizzly, Calder, and just stand there. I understandably ran like a bat out of hell. You didn’t come after me."
"Obviously, I did. I'm here now."
I shriek in pure frustration. "Don't give me semantics. You didn't follow me..."
"No, my brother Eli did. You were never in any danger."
"Says you. You, who just stood there like you being able to shift into a grizzly was a normal thing..."
"It is normal for me."
"Well, it isn't normal for me. Nothing about this is normal for me. You stood there—on all fours, I might add—and looked at me like that should be the end."
His nostrils flare. "You're probably right that I could have found a different way, but I couldn't think of one. I didn’t chase you because you looked terrified."
"I was terrified. Do you think that’s the only thing I felt?"
His jaw ticks. "I didn’t want to make it worse."
"Well, guess what?" I stalk toward him. "It is worse. Because now I can’t stop thinking about you. About what you are... what I saw you become. And I don’t know whether I should smack you or kiss you."
His eyes darken. His fingers twitch, flexing once before settling into rigid stillness at his sides, like he’s holding back something barely restrained. "Don’t do either unless you’re sure."
I step closer. "If you think you can scare me off now, you’re wrong. I'm done with being scared."
"Cilla…"
"No." I stab a finger into his chest. "You don’t get to hide behind your grizzly. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’thandle. You’ve been pushing me away since the day we met, and I let you. But I’m done letting you dictate this."
His shoulders go rigid, every muscle taut with restrained emotion, as if he’s bracing for a blow that never comes. The charged energy pouring off him is thick and unmistakable—less a sound than a pressure in the air, one I feel in my bones.
"Say something," I demand.
"I kissed you once," he rasps. "And I couldn’t forget the taste. If I kiss you again, I won’t stop."
"Good."
I grab the front of his hoodie, fisting the fabric tight, and yank him down to me. My mouth finds his with a force born of days of confusion, longing, and anger—hot, unfiltered, and desperate. I kiss him like I’m taking control, like I’m done waiting for him to decide if I’m worth the risk. There’s no hesitation, no pause—just heat and need crashing between us.
He groans into the kiss, like it’s the only thread keeping him from unraveling. His arms crush me to him, broad palms spanning my back with desperate urgency, as though he can press the space between us out of existence. I return the kiss with raw, unchecked hunger—biting at his lower lip, licking into his mouth with the heat of all the nights I lay awake needing this. I want to consume him, to mark him with my taste, to sink so deep into him there’s no part of me he doesn’t know by feel alone.
He lifts me without breaking the kiss. My legs wrap around his waist on instinct, my clogs thudding softly against the cabinet as he carries me in a rush of need. We don’t make it far—he turns, slams me up against the cold metal wall, and the shock of it punches a gasp from my throat. His hands are greedy, roving, gripping my hips like he owns them, sliding up to the small of my back and down my thighs like he’s memorizing every inch. I cling to him, breath ragged, my fingers tangledin his hair as the metal of the wall bites into my spine in the best possible way. There’s no rhythm to his touch, just hunger and desperation and the crackling, near-violent chemistry we’ve been pretending didn’t exist.
"This is crazy," I pant against his lips.
"Then stop me."
"Not a chance."
The heat between us spikes. His mouth moves down my throat, teeth scraping lightly against my pulse. I moan, fingers digging into his shoulders. He smells like pine, damp earth, and something wild I can’t name—like wind through untouched forest or rain hitting warm stone. My apron gets tossed somewhere. Shirt, gone. He tears it open as if it offended him. My bra follows, as do the rest of my clothes.
His mouth closes around my nipple, and I nearly scream.
"God, Calder?—"
He growls against my skin, rough and low, and the sound sends a tremor through me. I tug at the waistband of his sweats, desperate, and he finally sets me down long enough to strip.
I look. I cannot help but look.
