Breakwater: Rick (BBW Bad Boy Space Bear Shifter Romance) (Star Bears Book 2)

by Becca Fanning

  “Herrrld errrrrrrn!” he screamed in her ear, his voice changing into something bestial, inhuman. Michael's skin exploded with long soft bristles of brown hair. Where his face had pressed against hers, there was now a massive snout, with whiskers that poked into her ears. The arms that pinned her to him became thicker, and his fingers receded into paws the size of dinner plates.

  The last thing Nicole saw was the side of the mountain rushing up behind Michael. Then everything went black.

  Nicole’s eyes cracked open, taking in the brightness of her room.

  At the foot of her bed, Michael was pressing an icepack to his side and grimacing. He saw her eyes open and let out a pained chuckle. “I’d heard of taking a lady for a quick tumble, but that was ridiculous.”

  “Like, do you know how corny you are?” Nicole said, her jaw shrieking in protest. She hand a hand up to her face.

  “Here.” Michael handed her the icepack.

  “You sure?”

  “It’s just some broken ribs. They’ll only rupture my lung and kill me,” he said, gingerly touching his side. “But the real concern is that you can’t yell at me for saving your life.”

  A knock came at the door. Greg's head popped in. “Hey, you’re up!” he said, softly stepping into the room. “Girl, you gave us one hell of a scare!”

  “Mmmhmm,” Nicole said, pressing the icepack to her jaw. “Stupid rattlesnake. Stupid mountain. Stupid band.”

  “Now, now. That’s just the near-fatal collision with the earth talking. Do you need anything?”

  “Codeine,” she said.

  “Hmm…we might have some aspirin. No guarantee on the expiration date, though. I’ll, uhh, leave you two alone,” he said, leaving the room.

  Michael sat on the bed next to her, his hand gently stroking her knee through the blanket.

  “Michael,” she said, “why didn’t you tell me you were a Shifter?”

  He looked away, then down at the floor. “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me.” she said.

  “It’s just…I don’t know. Some humans are fine with it, or at least they think they are. Until Mr. Growly comes out, then it’s all guns and pitchforks.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s not my fault I am like this. I was born this way.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she said, putting her hand on his arm.

  He gave a small shake to his head. “It’s easy to say that. It’s easy to think everything is going to be fine. It’s the 21st century, we’re a sophisticated society, etc. I had a girlfriend a few years ago. I kept it from her. I know that was wrong. But after a few months I told her. The next morning she leaves her phone in my room. It turns on when I pick it up,” he sighed. “She looked up silver bullets on the internet.”

  Nicole gave his arm a squeeze. “Not everyone is going to think that.”

  He spun to face her, his eyes golden and wet. “How do you know? It’s my life. It’s my family’s life. This was all a terrible idea. All of it. You…”

  “Me? What about me? What did I do?” she said.

  “It’s not about what you’ve done. It’s about what you’re going to do.”

  “What?” she felt herself soften. She still was mad at him but the least she could do was hear him out.

  “I’m a Shifter, Nicole. When one of us-“

  “I know what a Shifter is.”

  “What’s going to happen when our fans stop caring about our music and just look at us like a freak show?”

  “You shouldn’t hide or be ashamed of what you are, Michael,” Nicole said, looking down as she smoothed the sheets on the bed.

  “This is my life, Nicole, not an after school special.”

  “I’m here to do a job, Michael,” Nicole said. “I’m sorry we didn’t meet under different circumstances.”

  He patted her knee once, then stood. “At least we finally got to your real feelings about this.” He turned and walked out of the room.

  Nicole felt her cheeks grow hot and her vision went cloudy. She wiped a tear off her cheek. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be a journalist, to make the hard decisions and always bring the truth to light, no matter the consequences. This week had been hell for her and now she was pitted against the very reason she came here. Why did this have to happen? Everything had changed now. How was she supposed to look him in the face and act as though nothing had happened between them?

  She reached into her purse and pulled out her cellphone. She hit “Call” and waited. One ring. Two rings.

  “Hello? Nicole?”

  “Hi Josh,” she said. “I’m coming home.”Nicole rolled the sleeves of her sweater and sank into the sofa. Armed with a bag of chips and the remote, Nicole got to what had already become her routine in the past two weeks. She didn’t want to think about Michael. She didn’t want to think at all. She glanced past her aging widescreen TV and out the window. The sun had just set, and a light rain was pelting her window. See? She couldn’t go out and be social: it was raining!

  She had gotten back from Georgia and spent that day in a daze. Her fingers danced across the keys, and the letters on the screen in front of her eventually became words. Those words spun out into sentences, and before she knew it she was done. Done with the most difficult article she’d ever written. An empty bottle of Moscato stood on either side of her laptop, like guardians against clear thought and prudence.

  She swiped to unlock her phone, the message from Josh still active from when she opened it over a week ago. He didn’t just like the article, he loved it. He was ecstatic, saying it was the best coverage he’d read in years. It was real cover story material, and the editorial staff had worked two overnighters to re-do that month’s issue. It would probably be on shelves now, putting another spotlight on The Solid Oaks, for better or worse.

  Thinking back to Michael's words that night, she knew it wouldn’t be for the better. With all this attention, he’d never get the sweet simple life he wanted. Not anymore.

  Nicole’s eyes snapped back to the TV. Some prima donna with amazing makeup was imploring the home audience on why she should be the next…something. Was she a model? A musician? Was she eating bugs on an island? She was speaking but Nicole really couldn’t bother to pay attention.

  “Nope!” Nicole said as she snapped the remote at the TV, the sudden flat blackness somehow more engaging than that lady had been.

  Nicole stood up, swaying slightly. She had to eat something. Maybe. She remembered she had a bottle of sake in a cabinet, and that was basically like eating rice. Proud of this new plan, she made her way towards the kitchen.

  Then stopped.

  She could hear something faint. Through the pitter-patter of raindrops outside, there was something else. Something lighter. Something melodic. She crossed the living room and looked out the window onto the street below.

  Under a streetlamp right outside her building, she saw him. His denim jacket and jeans were soaked through, a dark ruddy blue like the Gulf of Mexico in August. In his arms he held his big acoustic guitar. His eyes found hers, and he smiled as she opened her window.

  “What the hell are you doing, Michael? Are you nuts?” she called down, folding her arms in front of her.

  “Hope ya don’t mind if I do a little practice here. I’ve been running through a new tune, thought I’d see how you liked it,” he said, changing the tension on a string until it hummed with the note he was looking for.

  “If this…if this is supposed to be some kind of romantic…thing…I’m entertaining guests! You’re just embarrassing yourself!”

  “Sure. Give my best to Denise from America’s Next Top Fitness Instructor,” he said, flashing a solid white grin.

  Stupid Shifter hearing! Nicole harumphed and crossed her arms extra hard. She wasn’t going to give him any satisfaction. This stupid stunt wasn’t-

  Michael's guitar sprang to life, a bluegrass ditty that leapt across the space between them, slicing through the air and the rain. The notes hit
her like bullets shot from his guitar, cracking the stubborn sulk she was resolved to stay in. His big palm came down across his guitar’s rosette and it went silent. For the briefest moment, even the raindrops seemed to stop, waiting patiently for what happened next. Michael's voice rose up, soft and sweet.

  Sweet mountain tumble, spin me round and round,

  Sweet mountain tumble, feet never hit the ground,

  The look in her eyes, the words on her lips,

  Holding me through life’s mountains and dips…

  Nicole felt it just…slip off. The pain and self pity that had kept her paralyzed in her apartment. It sloughed off like an old winter jacket. The room moved around her, swaying back and forth as her feet carried her to her door. She took the stairs four at a time, throwing back the front door and sprinting to close the distance between them.

  He was still singing as Nicole collided with him, pinning the guitar between them as her lips pressed against his. He pulled the guitar aside as he kissed her back, hungrily.

  “Hi,” she said quietly, burying her face in his neck, smelling his aftershave.

  “I take it you like the song,” he said, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “Freezing,” he said, water dripping off his ears.

  He lumbered after her, stiff from the cold rain and wind he’d endured outside her window. She managed to finally pull him into her apartment with the last of her strength. Dripping wet, he looked around her apartment.

  “Not quite what I expected,” he said. “I thought there’d be more empty liquor bottles and balled up typewriter pages.”

  “Luckily for me you decided to serenade me shortly after I took out the trash. And no one uses a typewriter anymore,” she said. “We have to get you out of those clothes. It just won’t do to have you freeze to death in my apartment. Your brothers will think me a bad host.” She reached out and began to unbutton his denim jacket.

  Michael's hand closed around hers. He looked down into her eyes. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why didn’t you write about it? About us being Shifters?” His other hand lifted the contacts from his eyes and put them into a case in his pocket.

  Nicole didn’t need any more time to think about the answer to that question. She’d been asking herself the same thing since she submitted the article. “Because you love your music, and I didn’t want to take anything away from that. You’re going to become famous enough as it is. The public doesn’t need to know about your…wild side.”

  Michael pulled her close, a masculine heat suddenly emanating from his wet clothes. “I thought that was the whole point. To find my wild side and share it.”

  Nicole leaned in close, “I’m not sharing it with anyone,” and pressed her lips against his. She worked the buttons on his jacket and peeled it off.

  His hands cupped her face and ran through her hair, dipping under the back of her sweater to feel the heat of her skin. He moaned as she pressed herself against him, the fullness of his cock growing down his pant leg.

  “We’ll just have to put these in the wash,” she said, pulling his wet t-shirt over his head and plopping it onto the floor. Her fingers dug into his jeans, the backs of her fingertips tickled by his growth of hair below the belt line. She pulled him backwards as they kissed, her sweater becoming another dark lump on the floor. Her bra followed, and electricity shot through her as her nipples brushed against the hair on his chest.

  He growled as he looked down at her, his eyes glowing like hot gold.

  That sound, that look, that primal desire was crystal clear. Her heart began to race. Nicole felt her own body respond, a dew drop forming on the front of her underwear.

  Michael's nostrils flared, taking in her lusty scent. His eyes went wide for a moment, then he conquered her mouth with his, crushing her in hot bliss. His thumbs hooked into her yoga pants and pulled them down to her knees. Without releasing her mouth, a massive arm picked her up like she was weightless, his other hand pulling her yoga pants and slippers off in one go.

  “Oh, Michael…” she said, her damp hair covering her face. In darkness she felt her back press against the wall, and a massive hand wrap around her breast. The hot wetness of his mouth latched onto her, and she shrieked in pleasure as his tongue flicked against her nipple. Nicole lifted one leg and wrapped it around him, rubbing her aching slit against his thigh. She reached backwards to hold the wall, to brace herself against the first orgasm that came crashing over her. She moaned as pulses of heat shot through her.

  “Your scent,” he whispered, his tongue lashing her captive nipple one last time. His arms swept her up and he carried her, effortlessly, to her dining room table. “I can’t wait any longer,” he said as he sat her down on the table. The stubble on his cheeks scratched her thighs in an intimate, familiar way.

  “Mmmmm,” she cooed, her hands softly running through his hair as he placed soft kisses across her breasts and down her stomach. She bit her lip as his tongue came out and gave a long slow lick right up the front of her underwear.

  “How do you smell so good?” he said, his tongue going back to sweep against her sopping wet fabric.

  “Unnngh….” Nicole moaned, feeling every bump of his tongue through her soaked panties.

  With a pull and a snap, Michael tore her panties from her body, leaving her hot core splayed open to his attentions. He descended on her immediately, his lips and tongue tasting and probing in an urgent feral way. One of his hands pressed down on her stomach, sealing her to the table. The other hand spread her lips, the air in her apartment suddenly cold wherever his hot tongue left a wake. His tongue dipped into her, sampling her honey. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he said, his tongue sliding up and down her lips.

  “Shut…up…” she managed between gasps. Looking down her body, she saw a pair of golden eyes looking up into hers. She was his prey, caught and unmoving, and he would do with her what he wanted. She threw her head back and cried out as his lips planted down around her clit, his tongue licking her relentlessly. Her eyes closed and she floated in a warm sea, her orgasm becoming an otherworldly experience. Muffled sounds reached her ears and she opened her eyes.

  Michael stepped out of the last of his clothes. A streetlight from outside cast an orange glow into the apartment, giving his jawline a striking appearance. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took her in. His heavy cock twitched, the head glistening in pre-cum. Behind this his sac hung heavy and low.

  She sat up and scooted off the table. She stood in front of him, her fingernails running light trails through his curly chest hair. The little black wisps pulled taut then snapped into their original curls. The white lines she left in his skin felt like she was marking him. She liked that. “It’s my turn to have some fun,” she said, kissing her way down his sternum as she knelt in front of him.

  “Oh Nicole,” Michael said, his eyes closing and his head going back. His legs, thick and strong as tree trunks, flexed as her mouth left a damp trail of kisses down his abs. He planted his hands on his hips akimbo style.

  Nicole playfully shot her tongue into his belly button, giving him a jolt. She reached his aching prick, heavy and engorged. She stroked him in her hand, enjoying the girth and power of his member. Like hot silk over a steel shaft, she gave him a squeeze and saw a new pearly drop form at the end of his cock. Her other hand went to his balls, giving them an appreciative squeeze. “And what do you have for me here?”

  “It’s going to be all over your rug in moment if you keep teasing me,” he said.

  “Such a wasteful boy,” she said, bringing him to her mouth. The head of his member pushed past her lips, the crown slipping past her teeth to pin her tongue. She gurgled, bobbing her head along his shaft as she sucked the musky saltiness from his cock. His pre-cum seeped out, his body eager to deposit his seed. She pulled her mouth off of him and swirled her tongue down his shaft, lappin
g at the connection between his cock and balls.