"I am a cranky, simple guy who doesn't see the need for many words." He surveyed her, his gaze stopping on her bare feet. "How drunk are you?"
She curled her toes into the wood floor. "Not very. Witches have high metabolisms, and I burned a lot of the booze when trying to heal Angie."
"You're clearheaded?"
"Aye." What was his point?
"Good. Then I can ask you a straight question." His eyes were molten chocolate in the firelight.
She swallowed. More questions about her motivations? Lovely. "All right."
"You wanna fuck?"
* * *
Bear liked catching the classy witch off balance. Her face flared a bright pink, and she actually took a step back. "Too direct for you?" he asked quietly, humor bubbling up through his chest.
Spirit seethed in her eyes. "You're not up for it."
"Wanna bet?" He tucked his thumbs in his damp jeans and studied her. Wearing his shirt, without her heels, she was petite and somehow all smooth, long leg. Her toenails had been painted an intriguing blue. He would've guessed a simple beige or light pink. But they were bright blue.
The woman had many layers to her personality and a wild side. He just knew it. Yeah, he wanted to tap all that. Wanted to figure her out.
She lifted her delicate chin. "We just met." With her hair wet and curling down her back, she was pure temptation.
He had never been a guy to ignore temptation. So he loped toward her, appreciating the fact that she remained in place. When he reached her, the scent of roses grabbed him around the neck and squeezed. "Who cares? You asked to mate me." Which definitely was not going to happen. However, he'd still like some naked time with her. He brushed her hair away from her face, tangling his fingers in the heavy mass.
Need shone in her eyes, but defiance flashed across her face. "I have to conserve my energy for healing you."
"I'd rather fuck." Might as well give her the truth. She was the one who'd offered to mate him. "If you were serious about your plan, then don't you want to see if we're compatible?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm no' worried about that."
He'd take that as a compliment. "Your little plan has a couple of flaws, doesn't it?"
She blinked, her gaze turning wary. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Her throaty voice coated his skin and wandered right down to his balls.
He shifted his weight. "Sure you do." Her pretty pink lips all but invited him to take a bite. "Get here, mate me, get fire, and go. This might be a bit more complicated."
"You don't know me," she burst out.
He twisted his wrist in her soft hair, effectively forcing her to lift her face. "I have no doubt there's a lot I don't know about you." He leaned down, his lips hovering right over hers. "You know what I do know?"
She breathed in sharply. "What?"
"You want this." Holding her in place, he lowered his mouth and took hers. There was something infinitely delicate about Nessa Lansa, but he'd already kissed her gently once. There was only so much softness in him, and it was gone. He'd never been that guy. From day one of his life, he'd fought hard for every single thing he had. Everything he owned.
Fighting was what he knew. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting tequila and something that was all Nessa, something sweet with a tiny bite.
She stilled for about two seconds and then kissed him back, her hands snaking over his shoulders. Her lips were soft and lush, and they felt shockingly good against his. A low moan rose in her throat.
The sound. The soft sound clawed through him with the force of a heated storm. He deepened the kiss, taking what he wanted, asserting himself. Oh, he wouldn't hurt her and he'd try for gentleness when he could, but she needed to know who he really was. What he really was. There was no changing him, so if she wanted a classy guy who got a manicure once in a while, she was looking in the wrong place.
His free hand swept down her back and over her ass. If she wanted a ride on the wild side, she was in the right place. She pressed against him, and his mind went blank. Her soft body against his hardness stole his thoughts and banished any good intentions he might've drummed up.
His fingers spread over her scalp, and he held her still, plundering even deeper. His heart sped up, and his blood pounded through his veins in a hard cadence. He could almost hear the drums-feel the animal inside him take over.
Kissing her, he stood on a precipice. A new one. This was different.
She was different.