Bear Shifter Dating Agency, page 6
Duncan smiled. "Then I'm going to ask the next awkward question: why did you sign up for a dating site?"
"My friend put it in my head," I said, grinning widely. "And, you know, nights get lonely. Plus it's been a really long time since I've had someone...cook for me." I let my voice trail off, suggestive and low. Duncan's eyes flashed, his smile turning a little more playful.
"I'll be more than happy to cook for you, Winter. Whenever you want."
I blushed, that little flutter of anticipation turning into a full on flood of butterflies. "I'll remember that," I said. Food was still cooking after all, it wouldn't do any good to ruin the fish he'd caught and brought for me just because I wanted to climb him like a tree.
I set my water down, searching for something to change the subject, because if he kept looking at me like that I was going to climb him like a fucking tree. "I have some salad I can make, or instant mash. Don't judge me," I added with a warning look.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "No judgement here," he replied, holding up a hand. "Whatever you feel like making is fine."
I nodded. The fish were quite large, and if this was going to turn into dessert tonight, then I didn't want to be full and sleepy. I opened the fridge and pulled out the salad kit, taking a metal bowl from the cabinet and opening the bag. I dumped all the contents inside and mixed it together, setting the trash to one side. Immediately, Duncan came forward and took it for me, throwing it away. I smiled, pleased by the gesture, the implicit partnership of preparing dinner together.
It was...nice. And it wasn't like being with Tyler was. With Tyler, I either cooked or we ordered takeout. There were no homecooked meals where he provided the food, he never went hunting for me, he didn't know a can opener from a soup ladle so the best I could get out of him was him hovering near me, complimenting the smells and trying to cop a feel whenever he could.
Which had also been fun, don't get me wrong. It just was... Juvenile? That wasn't the word. Not simple, either. I guess shallow is the best word for it. Neither of us were pretending like it was anything meaningful, or anything permanent. Then Dahlia came along and made it the most permanent thing in the world for me, when he wasn't around to share in that.
I sighed, trying to push the thoughts away. I was having a good time with a very attractive man, I didn't need to be thinking about my ex.
I paused mid-mixing, my breath catching as Duncan came close to me again. He reached past me, his other hand steadying and huge on the small of my back, and took his glass so he could top it up. "Do you want more?" he asked. His hand hadn't moved.
Yes, I wanted more. But I wasn't thinking about water.
I swallowed and nodded. He smiled, and refilled my glass as well, setting it back in its place. "How much longer on the fish, do you think?" I asked quietly, turning and tilting my head up to look at him. He was standing so close, his hand was still on my back, a touch as calming and natural as it was invigorating.
He tilted his head and scented the air. "About fifteen more minutes, that should be fine," he said.
I laughed. "There's no way you can tell that just by smell."
"I've been around fish my entire life," he replied with a grin. "If there's anything I can pick out, it's fish." I laughed again, shaking my head. His thumb moved, rubbing along my spine briefly, before he pulled away. Immediately I wanted him back. I already felt like I was burning up being near him for that small amount of time. His body heat lingered in my clothes, on my skin.
"I can't imagine that's the most pleasant smell."
He shrugged, smiling at me as he sipped his water. "You get used to it. I only hope I don't carry the stink around me too badly."
I hesitated, looking up at him. It would be simple, now, to lean in and give him a playful sniff, to let him take me into his arms and thoroughly ruin dinner. I met his eyes, seeing them darken. His smile lingered, even as his gaze broke with mine and fell to my lips. Oh, yes, he wanted to kiss me. All I needed to do was lean in.
I was about to, when I heard a slight hitch of sound from my hip, followed by Dahlia huffing and starting to cry. I jerked back in surprise, blushing heavily when Duncan's eyes lifted, to the ceiling, as though he could hear her without use of the baby monitor. Maybe he could.
"I'm sorry," I said, recovering as quickly as I could. "She probably needs to be changed. I'll be back as quick as I can."
"Don't feel the need to rush," Duncan replied with another of those warm, encouraging smiles. "I have no issue waiting until the princess is settled again."
I blinked at him, and laughed. "Does that make me the queen?"
"If you want to be."
God, that flirtatious tone was going to be the death of me.
Another soft laugh escaped me, before I brushed past him and hurried up the stairs. I was both grateful for and annoyed at the interruption. Grateful, because Duncan was driving me crazy with the barest of touches and I was seconds away from forgetting myself, and dinner, and everything else. Annoyed because, well, I wanted to forget.
I wanted to know how his lips felt against mine, if they would be chapped, or were as soft as they looked. I wanted to feel his stubble, coarse under my palms. Dragging down my neck, how it would make my thighs chafe and burn so that I wouldn't be able to walk properly the next day. I wanted to see how big his hands looked on my hips, and, fuck, I wanted him inside me. I wanted him on top of me and surrounding me, growling into my ear as he mounted me.
It had been way too long, if I was getting this worked up over a simple touch to my back and a little flirting.
I opened the door to Dahlia's room and saw that she had kicked off her blankets and dropped her pacifier. I sighed, rolling my eyes, and came over to her, picking it up and cleaning it off before I offered it to her again.
She took it readily, smacking loudly on the pacifier as her eyelids lowered again and she stopped flailing. I picked her up and gave her butt a testing sniff. No mess, that was good, if Duncan's sense of smell was that sensitive I didn't want him put off by baby poop. He said he loved kids but a full diaper could test even the strongest bonds.
I wrapped Dahlia back up and laid her down, checking the battery on the music box and seeing that it was still plugged in and fully charged. I smiled, and closed the door behind me once I was sure she was asleep. Hopefully she wouldn't drop her pacifier again.
When I came downstairs, Duncan wasn't in the kitchen. I heard movement coming from the dining room, and went there, freezing in the doorway when I saw Duncan rummaging through the cabinets behind the table. He pulled out a set of cloth placemats and laid them down opposite each other, before arranging the plates, knives, and forks he had taken from my kitchen to put down.
He looked up and smiled at me. "I hope you don't mind, I figured I'd set the table."
"How the Hell are you still single?" I demanded breathlessly.
He laughed, shaking his head. "Long nights, not a lot of time to socialize I guess," he replied, shrugging. He set the last knife down and straightened, coming towards me. His eyes were so dark, just as powerful and penetrating as they had been this whole time. I couldn't bring myself to move back, not even when he was almost flush against me, towering over me as we created a standoff at the door.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, then lifted again. His expression didn't change, but I felt the tension building like a rubber band pulled tight. He didn't move. Whether he was wary of frightening me or moving too fast, or he was waiting for me to make the first move, I didn't know. I didn't know how to read his eyes yet.
Duncan blinked, and breathed in. "The food's ready," he rumbled. I swallowed, and nodded. His smile grew. He took a tiny step forward, leaning in, leaning down. Our noses brushed and he breathed in again, as though my scent was a drug he could get high from.
"Winter," he said, his voice barely more than a growl that sent a shiver right down my spine and made the butterflies in my stomach catch on fire.
"Yes?" I whispered.
He came even closer, heat radiating off him like a furnace. I was trembling now, my knees barely able to hold my weight. Slow as melting ice, he lifted his hand and cupped my face. His hand felt huge on me, cradling my jaw. He could easily cover my throat completely with a single hand. My heart was beating so heavily I thought I might pass out at any minute.
"May I?"
"God, please," I gasped, an instant before his mouth was on mine. His other hand found that place on my lower back as I fell against him, digging my nails into his shoulders to keep my balance as he kissed me. I half-expected him to taste or smell like fish, but he didn't. Not enough for me to notice, anyway. His lips were just as soft as they looked and the graze of his uneven teeth against my upper lip took my breath right out of me.
He turned me, subtly, until my back hit the doorframe, and kissed me again until there was no air that he wasn't feeding me, no heat that he wasn't giving off. I moaned and could only cling to him, tugging desperately at his turtleneck as I tried to hold on.
He pulled away when we needed air, his breathing slow and deep like he was trying to physically breathe himself calm. His eyes were black, now, pupils spread wide to overtake the original color. My mouth tingled and my entire body shook with desire.
I met his eyes, and he smiled.
"That," he said quietly. "We should do that again. Soon."
I nodded, struck mute.
"After dinner," he added. I had to laugh, the bubble bursting suddenly and with ease. It wasn't awkward. He ran both his hands down my arms, took my hands and kissed my knuckles, before he guided me back into the kitchen. He handled the fish and I took the bowl of salad, each of us bringing our glasses of water to the table, and serving utensils.
I dished out the salad and he carefully laid a fish each on our plates. The skin was crisp and the fish swam in a sea of butter, lemon juice, and rosemary flakes. It smelled fantastic, and my stomach rumbled.
Duncan's eyes met mine. I forced myself not to dig in right away. I had spent enough time with Tyler to know that there was a hierarchy to being fed. The one in charge ate first. I wasn't about to pretend I was the one in charge. Duncan was clearly used to being the alpha of his clan, the protector and provider, and I liked that about him. I didn't want to challenge that.
He considered me for a moment, before he realized that I wasn't going to eat before he did. I could have imagined it, but I swore a flash of approval passed behind his eyes, but it was gone in a blink. He cut into the fish and carefully negotiated the delicate rib bones from the meat, taking his first bite.
I took mine quickly after. "This is delicious," I said, and it was. Easily the best food I'd had in a long while, even the stuff I cooked myself. I was no slouch in the kitchen but, especially recently, I hadn't bothered with taking too much time to prepare anything that required effort. Dahlia was only somewhat on solid foods and there was no point cooking a fancy dinner for one.
Duncan hummed, and nodded. "It was a good catch today," he murmured. Then, he smiled at me, and raised his glass. "Thank you for allowing me to share it with you, Winter."
I grinned, and reached out, forcing him to set his glass down. I tapped my fingers against his knuckles instead. "It's bad luck to toast with water," I said.
His brows rose, a playful smile on his face. "Are you very superstitious?"
"You know, five hundred years ago people called it superstition, until humans figured out that the fey are very much real and that it's actually good to have a packet of salt in your pocket when you run into the woods."
Duncan laughed. He took my hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of my fingers before letting me go so I could use my knife to eat the salmon safely. "So it's not superstition, it's a badly kept secret."
"A rumor that's actually true," I confirmed. He laughed again. He had such a nice laugh. I could imagine it, deep and low in my ear first thing in the morning, curled up in his arms. I liked making him laugh. I liked a lot of things about him, and that was nothing to speak of the heat in my stomach, brought to an insistent simmer.
"Well, rumor or not, I certainly wouldn't want to jinx this," Duncan said a moment later. His eyes met mine, intense and earnest. I swallowed, feeling my cheeks turn red.
"I don't either," I replied, biting my lower lip. "This was... This is really nice, Duncan. Best night I've had in a while, at least with someone who could speak in full sentences."
That earned a laugh. "I'm sure she'll get there soon," he replied. "She'll start shifting soon, too. Honestly it's a little surprising that she hasn't yet, but I suppose she doesn't have someone like her to emulate." I pressed my lips together, sitting back. He paused, noticing my change in mood. "I'm sorry. That sounded insulting."
"No, I get it," I said.
"I know you're an amazing mother, Winter. Bear cubs are a handful even as humans, and the fact that you're doing it alone is more proof to me. She's sleeping safe and sound, right now, because you made a home she can feel safe in, and that's no small feat."
I nodded. His reassurances did make me feel a little better. I didn't need external validation, but it was nice to hear. "But you're right, she doesn't have someone like her. I'm just a little squishy human." The words were bitter, but I forced them to come out light.
Duncan noticed. "You're not just anything, Winter," he replied. "No one is just anything."
I smiled. "I appreciate you saying that." We continued to eat, trading stories of Nome, my past before it being raised in Oregon, Duncan's attempt at college, some of the places he had seen on his boats or I had researched during my work. I found him so endlessly fascinating, and easy to get along with. He was mild-mannered and polite, not overbearing and brash like I knew a lot of shifters could be, especially around humans.
Of course, the view didn't hurt, either.
It felt like time had stopped completely, but when the meal was finally done and I saw the time on the oven clock, my eyes widened in surprise. It was already almost eleven at night. I couldn't remember the last time I had spent so long with someone without getting antsy or impatient to leave, to get back to my own personal bubble of silence.
I set the dishes in the sink and filled both the salad bowl and the baking dish with soapy water so they could soak. When I turned around, Duncan was leaning against the doorframe, watching me. I flushed instantly, biting the inside of my lower lip, which still stung from the passionate kiss we had shared before dinner.
"I don't have anything to offer for a nightcap, or even coffee," I said, stepping up to him. He tensed, like he was preparing to lunge, a predatory look coming to his face. "Do you want to call it a night?"
"Honestly?" he rasped.
"I'd prefer that, yes."
His upper lip twitched, like he was fighting the urge to snarl. "Honestly, I'd rather have dessert. But if that's not on the table, then I would simply enjoy your company. If you're not too tired."
I arched a brow, and looked down pointedly at his folded arms. He uncrossed them instantly, straightening to his full height. I smiled at him, and prowled forward the final few steps, sighing as he wrapped his arms around me and leaned down for a kiss. It was like, the second our lips touched, we picked up right where we left off.
He slid his hands down my back, over my ass, and gripped my thighs, lifting me up with no effort at all. I gasped, wrapping my arms and legs around him, kissing him like I would die if I didn't. "Upstairs," I demanded. "Second door on the left."
He growled quietly, and obeyed my instructions, his footsteps light despite his heavy boots as he carried me upstairs and into my bedroom. He slid his hands up my thighs again, catching my shirt this time so that he could hold me by my bare waist when he set me down on my bed.
The kiss didn't break once. I pulled back with a soft gasp, panting heavily, and parted my knees, crawling backwards so that he could follow me onto the bed. Duncan was watching me like a cat watched a mouse right before it pounced, like he was starving for it. He kicked off his boots and then covered me like a blanket, his body huge and heavy, pinning me down with ease.
He nosed my hair away from my neck and kissed my rushing pulse, sending another series of sparks down my spine. I arched up against him, moaning softly when I felt his thighs shove mine further apart, making me so aware of how much space he needed to take up and how empty I felt, on the inside.
I slid my hands through his thick, straight hair, rearing up and kissing him desperately. My teeth sank into his lower lip, making him snarl. His fingers flexed on my hips before he started pushing up my shirt again.
To my surprise, he didn't try to take it off. He merely exposed my belly, which I had worked hard to get back to the state it had been before I was pregnant. There were still stretch marks, thin silver and faint purple lines fanning out across my stomach and waist.
I bit my lower lip, self-conscious suddenly, but Duncan growled softly and kissed them, each and every one. It was such an intimate gesture, so full of worship, that I was overwhelmed by it. I could only pet his hair and watch him give my stomach all the attention he wanted to give it.
Until, slowly, his fingers curled in the waistband of my leggings. He looks up, those dark eyes piercing me through the slight cover of fringe that had fallen into his eyes. I pushed the strands out of the way, wanting to see him without any barrier. I nodded, lifting my hips so he could tug my leggings down to my knees, my underwear just remaining in place.
Although I was barely undressed, I felt so exposed. "Take off your shirt," I commanded.
He laughed, and sat on his heels. He wordlessly yanked his turtleneck over his head, tossing it onto the floor behind him. I stared at his broad chest, covered in a thick pelt of hair the same salt and pepper color of his hair and stubble. It looked soft and sinful. His skin was tanned and almost completely unmarked. There were no battle scars on him.
Either he never had to fight, or he never took damage when he did. Both options were incredibly appealing. I sat up, flattening my hands on his chest to see if the hair there was as soft as it looked. It was. Oh, God, I wanted him so badly.
