Page 83 of Bears Behaving Badly
Chapter 27
Warm. Warm and comfortable and fragrant and luscious.What kind of pillow is this? I’m buying a dozen.Oh, it had everything; it was soft and yielding and snoring, all the things any red-blooded werebear wanted in a—
He cracked open an eye.
It was not a pillow.
It was Annette.
Which was even better.
How long can I stay like this with her? I hate to wake her up and ruin the… Ouch.
“Ten more minutes,” she mumbled, then smacked him on the arm again with a small, closed fist. He had a vague memory of her saying something about needing a new alarm clock… Was it just yesterday? Christ, how many did she go through a week?
He also had a vague memory of Annette having a nightmare, going to the kitchen, guzzling something (the gulps were pretty loud), then returning and pouncing on him to initiate the hottest make-out session he’d ever had, and that included Tanya Finn the morning after senior prom. The things Annette could do with her mouth! Her ripe mouth, all soft lips hiding sharp little teeth that nibbled and kissed, and she’d had him hard and aching in about half a second, and probably not even that long. Holding back from just picking her up, slamming her on her back, shoving her knees apart with his, and burying himself inside her sweet center had taken Olympian-level willpower.
But he’d meant what he said: she could have whatever she wanted. Even if all she wanted was nothing.
And then: back to Snoresville, population Annette. Christ, just thinking about it was enough to make him want to rip the covers off, beg her for a fuck (quick, long, mercy, hate…whatever category of fuck she was up for, though he’d have to fake hate), then doing things that would forever destroy the box spring.
None of which was on the table, not least because Annette seemed to be laboring under the laughable idea that he didn’t want her. At least, that’s what he thought she’d said. It had been late, they’d been horny and exhausted, and the next thing he knew, it was the crack of eight.
He reached out and gently shook her shoulder. “Annette, it’s me. Uh, David. It’s time to get up and go back out into the world and get disillusioned all over again.”
“Don’ like this brand of clock. Makes the bed shake,” she whined. Then again with the fist: SMACK!
Jesus, my entire forearm just went numb.He moved out of smacking distance, like every alarm clock she’d ever had would’ve if they could’ve, and said, “Breakfast?”
She sat bolt upright, like a sexy Frankenstein’s monster coming to life after the electric jolt. “Nnnnnnn?” She looked around blearily and yawned. “Why does my bed smell weird? And why are you in it? And where are we? And is there bacon?”
“Ask me again when you’re all the way awake, if you still have questions. We’ll find the answers together,” he vowed, bounding out of bed and not caring how silly he sounded. “Rise and shine!”
“GoodGod, a morning person,” she moaned, and flopped back down.
* * *
“What in the name of all that’s…” Annette stared at her reflection and tried not to gasp in horror. She was covered in love bites; dark-purple hickeys were dotted all across her collarbone and neck and (after a quick peek beneath the nightgown) her breasts. And as the events of last night came back to her, she’d be willing to wager David was sporting a few, too. If she ever wagered. Which she did not.
What am I going to say to him?‘Sorry about molesting you…again’?‘Please don’t read into it’?‘Even though I know you’re not interested, I wanted to find out what your nipples tasted like anyway’?
“It didn’t happen, it will never happen, stop trying to make it happen.”
Well, she’d ignored that and gone ahead anyway. So now what?
There was a polite rap on the bathroom door, and thank goodness, because she didn’t have an answer and welcomed a distraction. She could scent David on the other side. “It’s open.”
He stuck his head in and grinned when he saw her. “Morning.”
“It is. Yes.”
“How’d you—” He cut himself off as she turned to face him, then stepped inside, closed the door, then joined her at the mirror, showing off his own set of toothmarks and love bites.
She stared at their reflection.This is the first time we’ve shared a mirror. And a bathroom. And a bed.“This will only confuse the rumormongers,” she said, and she hadn’t been teasing but he burst out laughing anyway, and she couldn’t help smiling. If she’d overstepped, he appeared to be fine with it. Or would at least overlook it. The former was the ideal, but she’d take the latter, too. This wasn’t high school. There was no time for drama. That kind of drama, anyway. They were trailing killers, or killers were trailing them, or both
(probably both)
and nothing was more important than solving the riddle of Caro.
