The Fox and her Bear (Mating Call Dating Agency, #2) (9 page)

“Thank you,” Dawson said, gripping her hand. “I don’t know how I knew you’d come, but—”

“Oh, no, I meant seeing that fine ass of yours.” She broke into a laugh, and Hibby with all her professional composure, allowed herself a brief smile and a chuckle.

“Just doing my job,” she said. “Press that red call button on the thing if you need me. I’ll be around with your drugs in a couple of hours. You want a cot?” she asked Angie. “Technically you’re not supposed to be here, but,” she shrugged to finish her thought.

“I could use one.”

“Wait, wait,” Dawson said. “You can’t stay here. You’ve got a life to live. You’ve got to get back to work. I can’t let you do this.”

“Let me?” Angie asked. “I don’t remember asking permission. Although if you don’t want me to stay I guess I understand. We
did
just meet after all.”

For a moment, the two of them just stood there staring at one another, her hand in his. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out except a sigh. “It... really doesn’t feel like that, does it?” she asked when she managed enough sense to speak without shaking. “I mean, like we just met?”

“There’s something about you,” Dawson said. “You know that after you left, I played the best I’ve ever played? I might even try to record something. I’ve... never had the nerve to do that. I figured I was just some bar player destined never to leave town and try for anything bigger.”

Hibby wheeled a cot that was more like a trundle bed than a standard, Army-esque cot, into the room and both of them turned to look at her at the same time, realizing they never noticed she left. “I don’t want to interrupt you two, so I’ll just leave all this stuff here. Call if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Angie said, her voice sounding hollow in her throat. As she looked down at the disheveled, bloody and somehow indescribably beautiful bear. What was going on in her chest? Or better yet? Her brain? Falling for some guy wasn’t exactly an Angie thing to do. After all, she was the unflinching, stoic dispatcher that could get a thousand-yard stare in the worst circumstances that had ever befallen White Creek.

And here she was, holding a guy’s hand and playing nurse to him about six hours after they met. “What the hell am I doing?”

“Holding my hand.”

“Oh God, I said that out loud didn’t I?” she laughed to cover her embarrassment.

“Ow.”

“Did I squeeze too hard?” Angie asked, glad for an excuse not to think about her blabbing.

“Yeah,” Dawson said. “It’s... right here,” he pointed at his elbow.

Angie furrowed her eyebrows. “Need some medicine? Wait, why does your elbow hurt? You’re trying to get me to kiss it, aren’t you?”

“Ow, it hurts,” Dawson said, unable to completely hide his mischievous grin. “Oh it’s so bad.”

She rolled her eyes, but at the same time, she was smiling too. “Here,” she said and bent down to quickly peck his elbow with her lips. “Boo-boo all better?”

“Yeah, but it... oh now my arm hurts,” he said, pointing to his uncovered biceps. “Right here, it’s...”

She stooped over again, brushing her hair back behind her ear, and kissing his muscled arm. This time though, she went a little slower, letting her lips warm his skin before she pulled back. “Better?”

“Yeah, but... shoulder aches,” he said. She felt his fingers flutter against the small of her back and when Angie stepped a little closer, he flattened his hand. Warmth from his palm radiated through her entire body, tickling her from head to toe. “Right,” he faked a groan when she kissed the gown, then moved it aside and pressed her lips again on him. “Yeah, right there.”

Angie watched him, the warmth from his hand turning into an ethereal, almost dream-like comfort that spread from her core outward. “Is there anywhere else? Oh no...”

“What is it? Did you see something else?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, bending over near his ear. “I think I saw a cut right here.”

She sucked a gentle kiss where Dawson’s neck met his shoulder. When he clutched her almost imperceptibly tighter, she kissed him again, letting her lips stay against his skin as her breath warmed him. She finally pulled away, and saw a light dusting of goose bumps left behind. He didn’t need to ask her to kiss him right behind the ear, but the soft groan that met her ears encouraged her to continue.

“I think it hurts right here, too,” he said when she pulled away, pointing at his chin.

Her lips brushed against his throat, then the stubble under his jaw. She ran them along his bristly jaw, to his chin where she sucked softly and gave him a little nibble. “That better?” she whispered.

“Now here,” he lifted an arm, pointing to his own lips. When she got a little closer, close enough so that she could feel the warmth of his breath and the heat radiating off his skin, Dawson let his hand fall on the back of her head and pulled her in. “We still gonna have that date?” he asked before tasting her lips with his tongue, softly, gently. “I promise it’ll be more fun than this.”

Angie crawled up on his bed, careful to not prod his injured side, and cupped his face between her hands. The curtains drew closed without either of them anywhere near enough to touch them. Angie glanced quickly out the window as it closed and noticed Hibby giving her a wave.

“I owe you one,” she whispered.

“Me?” Dawson slid his tongue between her teeth, exploring her every line and curve. She sucked back, biting his bottom lip when they both needed to come up for air.

“No, the nurse that just closed our curtains,” she smiled, breathing out her words before kissing him desperately again. “Tell me if I hurt anything.”

“Right now you could stick a hot poker in my side and I wouldn’t notice,” Dawson stopped for a second, kissing her again, balling up a fist in her fiery red mane, and letting his other hand slide down Angie’s back to where her shirt came up just enough for him to feel the warm smoothness of her back. “Anyway, I’m half healed already. The thing about bear veins might have been a big load of crap, but unless you kill us, we tend to heal
real
quick.”

She took a breath, and let it out in a quailing sigh as her bear explored her again, sliding his tongue against hers, drinking her breath and holding her close.

“Well I might notice,” he whispered before nibbling her ear and swirling a kiss behind it. “But I wouldn’t care.”

Angie cooed a laugh, nuzzled against Dawson’s stubbly chin and sat up. Straddling him like that, she could feel his length swelling between her legs. It took every shred of effort she could muster to not pull him out of the gown. She dragged her fingernails gently along his jaw. He pulled her down for another kiss, and then, with a shove of his hips, sent a sweet charge snaking up her back.

“Oh my God,” Angie whispered. “I’m really doing this—we’re really doing this, in a hospital.”

“Who said nothing good ever happens in a hospital bed? Hold tight,” he whispered. “You’re doing something crazy to me. I can’t explain it, but...”

She looked down into his eyes and saw them flaring with gold and yellow flecks inside the green sea of his irises. Angie slid up and then down on him, feeling the tingles of his pleasure force her back to arch hard against his body. Before she really knew what was going on, or had any sense of what, exactly, she was doing, she felt wet heat creep slowly from between her legs.

Grabbing ahold of Dawson’s forearms, Angie found them hairier than before. “I guess you’re liking this?” he asked. That’s when she noticed that her own sense of smell was heightened.

“I’m not the only one,” the big bear, slid his hands up Angie’s back, which bristled with soft, red fur. “Open your eyes, let me see them. I want to see what it looks like when you come.”

She gasped a soft breath, as her sex clenched tight. The motion of his hot girth against her clit was just about to send Angie through the roof. She gritted her teeth hard, trying to force herself to hold on just a little longer. “I don’t want this to stop,” she whispered. “But I can’t... you’re making me...”

Dragging her fingernails along Dawson’s muscled chest, she left red tracks on his skin where the gown lay open. She took another breath, gasped again and squeezed her eyes shut.

One of Dawson’s hands left her back and slid between their bodies. He hooked a finger upwards, right against her sweetest place. “God, you’re wet,” he groaned from deep in his throat. “If we weren’t here right now, I’d throw you down and make you mine over and over until neither of us could stand up.”

“And,” she bit her lip, careful to keep her eyes open as best she could, “if your side wasn’t ripped wide open.”

He laughed a breathless, dry laugh. “Like I care about that.”

She pushed down against his hand, and his cock as hard as she could. “I’m... I’m coming, I—”

A deep growl slid out of Angie’s lips. White heat starting at the base of her neck spread through her entire body. Her nipples prickled hard and sweet against the soft cotton of her old He-Man t-shirt, and she bucked against Dawson. A hot red flush crept up her back, and when he pulled her down again, he sucked a hard, desperate kiss that took the last of her breath.

Louder, heavier, her breaths were coming in short, hard bursts. Every single nerve in her body flared, and the cords in her neck stood taut for just a moment.

“I want to see your face,” he curled his finger against her clit again. “And I’m going to want to see it again when I’m in you.”

That was all it took.

Angie let out a whispered scream, and then bit her lip so as not to upset all the patients who were no doubt listening. Relief flooded her system, and she threw back her head, shaking despite herself. Dawson grabbed her hands, squeezing them tight. “Something happen? Your hands are shaking?” He kissed her again before sliding out from under her and propping himself up on an elbow, on the side of his body that wasn’t in agony.

“We really just did that, didn’t we?” Angie giggled. Her neck was still flushed with pleasure, and she could still smell the scent of herself in the air.

“You did it, nurse,” Dawson said. “I’m just a helpless invalid and you took advantage of me.”

With another laugh, he tickled her neck before fluttering a kiss above the collar of her shirt and then wrapping his huge arm around her. “But next time, I’m not gonna be so helpless.”

“Next time, huh?” she asked softly. “What makes you so sure there’s gonna be a next time.”

He kissed her again in the same place. The soft rasp of beard made the sweet tickle even more wonderful than if he’d been smooth. “Oh, I think we both want to see what it’ll be like when there isn’t a hospital gown and a pair of Levi’s between us. Am I wrong?”

“No,” she twisted her neck and smiled. “No, I think you’ve got the right of it, piano bear, I think you have the right of it.”

“Normally I wouldn’t answer to that,” he said as she closed her eyes. “But for you? I’ll do anything.”

As Angie’s eyes fell closed, she felt Dawson’s breathing even out against her neck. A tear ran down her cheek, and slipped between her smiling lips.

*

M
orning came with another plate of colorless mush.

Luckily, Dawson and Angie woke up about ten minutes before the orderlies showed up, so the only person who saw them together in the bed was Hibby when she brought more pills for Dawson just after midnight. She’d given them a jocular warning about tearing his stitches out, but Angie didn’t last two minutes before she was unconscious on the trundle bed. It had been so long since she’d slept at night that it felt strange to wake up with the sun.

She blinked a few times and peeked out of the window. “It’s really bright,” she stated with a bald sort of flatness. “I’m not sure I like it.”

Dawson chuckled. “That’s the sun, you know. You probably have some kind of crazy vitamin B deficiency if just seeing it gets you despondent like that.”

As the orderly deposited breakfast on the table, he hesitated before removing the lid.

“What is it?” Dawson asked with just a twist of a growl in his voice. “Not potatoes is it?”

“Er,” the orderly made a motion to take the plate away. “It’s, uh, grits I think.”

“The only thing in the world I hate worse than potatoes? You know what that is?” Dawson’s eyes narrowed to slits. With his hair in a wild halo, and his muscular frame covered in a cotton gown with floral print straight out of 1982 on it, Dawson looked absolutely ridiculous. Angie had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at him.

“I asked a question,” Dawson said. His voice was becoming dangerously low.

“No, uh, sir, I don’t,” the poor orderly quailed. Dawson looked toward Angie and gave her a wink. If it was hard before not to crack up, now it became almost impossible. She squeaked out just a little chuckle and then stared really hard out the window to make sure she didn’t ruin the joke.

“Sorry, I can take it back, I—”

“I. Asked. A. Question.”

The orderly gulped. Angie had the same sort of tension built up inside her that reminded her of
really
having to pee that one time she’d been on I-20 in the middle of a complete lockdown for eight and a half hours. Except this time, she wouldn’t have to figure out how to use a coke bottle.

“Er... grits?”

“No, son,” Dawson growled the same way he must’ve right before he tore that guy up who attacked Tenner. “Asparagus. I love grits. Thanks! Cheese on ‘em?”

The small-framed orderly let out a rattling laugh, as though he was testing the laughter waters. “I, er, yes I think so. And some ham.”

“Ha! I really got you!” Dawson boomed again, and then let out a pained groan, clutching his side. “I got him, Angie! Did you see him squirming?”

Angie took a couple of steps across the room and put her arms around the poor, still-shaking orderly. She hugged him tight and whispered a thank you in his ear. The young guy smiled, though he wasn’t exactly sure why.

She knew though, somehow, that this massive bear of a man just needed to laugh. She knew that everything in his comfortable little world had come apart at the seams in the past couple of days, and this was as good a nervous prophylactic as anything.