Quarterback Werebear

by Candace Ayers

  In a matter of moments, Wesley stood before her, completely naked.

  Chloe swallowed. Taking in the broad, solid muscle lit up in the headlights, her stomach tightened. She felt a tingling between her legs, the butterflies flickering in her abdomen.

  Wesley placed his hands between his legs, cupping his manhood behind them. Chloe blushed, and averted her eyes.

  “Are you hurt?” Wesley asked tightly.

  Chloe shook her head.

  “I’m taking you home.”

  Chloe hadn’t noticed his expression before, and now realized that it was set in a grim fury. She’d never seen such a look of anger on his face.

  “Thank you so much Wesley. I’m sorry—I can’t believe this happened…I don’t know what to say.” Chloe suddenly felt ashamed. He probably thought she was a stupid child, going out in the middle of nowhere with a stranger.

  “Don’t you dare apologize,” Wesley snapped. “None of this is your fault. I could fucking kill that dickhead. I swear to God.”

  “Better that you didn’t. I’ll tell the police everything. He’ll get his justice.”

  “A jail cell is too good for him,” Wesley spat in disgust.

  “As long as he doesn’t get to do this to another woman, that’s all that matters. I’m fine—thanks to you.”

  Wesley muttered obscenities under his breath, yanking the door open to Todd’s car. He took the keys out of the ignition and popped the trunk. A moment later, he returned wearing a pair of sweatpants that were too small and tight for him. They must have belonged to Todd.

  “Let’s get moving.”

  Chloe nodded, making her way to the car. She sat in the passenger seat hating the smell of the upholstery, hating everything about Todd’s flashy ‘toy’.

  “Feel free to total this car when you’re done with it,” Chloe stated grimly.

  “Don’t you worry about that—it’s going in the Huron River.”

  Wesley revved the engine, speeding away from Newport Road.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chloe unlocked the outer door to her building and Wesley followed her inside, taking in the beautiful arches and intricate carving of the old building. He was glad she lived in a place like this—clean, warm, and supposedly safe.

  He checked the door as it closed behind them, gratified to see that the building might have been old, but the door was sturdy, and there were two CCTV cameras in the lobby, pointing down at the entrance.

  Chloe led the way up a large staircase and stopped at the first-floor landing.

  She led him through another door, which opened up into a long corridor with the individual apartments on either side. They walked almost the entire length of the hallway in silence, until Chloe stopped outside her door.

  “This is me,” she whispered.

  She unlocked the door, opening it wide for Wesley to step inside.

  He did so, noticing how much this room reflected Chloe as a person. There were posters and books he remembered her having back in Jackson Hole. The place was also immaculately tidy, just like her room at home. But it felt comfortable and cozy.

  “It’s nice,” he said quietly.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you want something to drink?” Chloe asked, moving toward the small kitchenette area that contained a sink, a kettle and colorful mugs hanging from hooks in the wall.

  “I’m okay, thanks.”

  He felt awkward, strangely out of place, even though her place seemed so familiar and home-like to him.

  “I guess I should call an ambulance,” Chloe added as she set the tea kettle on the small two burner stove.

  “No need. I heard him calling on his cell when we reached the car.”

  Chloe paused for a moment, and then nodded.

  “Of course, I forgot about that super-sonic hearing.”

  “If I was a bat, yeah.” Wesley tried to joke. Chloe pulled a face, rolling her eyes.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. He was trying to distract himself, just to stop from marching out of the room and hunting down that piece of shit—but dumb-ass humor wasn’t helpful right now.

  Chloe made an herbal tea, the scent of chamomile filling the room.

  “I should call the cops.” She added, making a move in the direction of her purse, before pausing and realizing that her phone had been destroyed.

  “Tomorrow,” Wesley insisted. The last thing she needed was to be put through the rigorous questioning of police tonight. “You need to rest, get some sleep.”

  When he saw her hesitate, he added, “I’ll watch over you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chloe moved toward the bedroom and Wesley followed, watching her sink down on the mattress. Wesley hesitated, then perched on the edge of an armchair that sat in the corner. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but just didn’t know how—or how welcome it would be. She’d just been through an intensely traumatic experience. The last thing he wanted to do was make that worse in any way.

  “Sit with me, please.” Chloe said quietly.

  Wesley nodded, moving across the room. He sat down next to her, their arms brushing. He became aware that he was still bare-chested. The sweat pants he’d found rummaging through Todd’s gym bag in the trunk barely stretched to accommodate his thighs, but the couple of t-shirts that were in there were way too small to even attempt to slip into.

  “I can see if I have a t-shirt, if you’re cold?” Chloe asked doubtfully.

  Wesley shook his head with a half-smile. It was unlikely that Chloe would own anything that was going to fit his frame.

  “Why don’t you have a shower?” He suggested instead. “Then get into bed. I won’t leave unless you want me to.” He gestured to the chair. “I’ll spend the night right there.”

  “Please,” Chloe agreed.

  She stood up from the bed, and headed to the small bathroom that was across the hall from the bedroom.

  “I won’t be long.”

  “I’ll be right here.” Wesley said.

  Chloe shut the door, and Wesley was left alone.

  The moment she left, he felt his strength flee. He placed his head in his hands, wanting to yell with rage. His body started to shake and tremble. He couldn’t escape the thought of what might have happened if he’d been too late. Or not come at all. What if he’d left for Chicago the night before like Coach Fulchic had asked him to? He wanted to vomit.

  There was no greater shame, no greater degradation than that of a shifter who had allowed his mate to meet with danger. Especially at the hands of another male. Wesley shook with anger, hating himself for his weakness—hating what Chloe had gone through.

  When he’d felt Chloe’s fear and terror, he’d been a couple miles away in a hotel room that he’d booked for the night. Thank god he hadn’t stayed at the Detroit Marriott where the rest of the team was holed up, and had instead chosen to spend the last few nights nearer to where he knew Chloe was living. He could only imagine what would have happened if he were an hour away.

  The closer he’d gotten, he found he could taste it—he experienced everything Chloe was thinking and feeling as she did—the acid bile building up in her mouth, the pain in her legs as she ran, how her lungs were burning—and the horrible, ripping ache as she had thought of home, of how she had wished her dad was there to save her. That had torn at Wesley—ripped through his being and twisted his soul.

  Wesley was experiencing every excruciatingly painful repercussion that happened when a shifter abandoned his true mate.

  He had tried to outrun the feelings. Tried to expel them on the football field. All to no avail. None of it had worked. All he’d done was create pain and suffering—for Chloe, and for himself. His own pain he would have embraced and endured his entire life, but not Chloe’s.

  Wesley rose swiftly, stepping out into the kitchenette and splashing his face with cold water from the tap.

  The bite of the cold water brought him back to his senses. He moved back into the bedroom, back to the armchair. He
would stay here tonight—and for as long as she needed him to feel safe.

  Chloe re-entered the room. She was wearing a camisole and shorts, with her wet hair tied back in a bun. Wesley’s heart stopped. He felt lust stirring in his groin, an instant, and obvious, hard-on pressing against the tightly stretched sweatpants. He turned away.

  Wesley cleared his throat.

  “You should get into bed. I’m going to be right here.” He willed himself to calm down.

  Chloe climbed in between the sheets. She looked beautiful but tired, soft shadows appearing beneath her eyes as she untied her hair and lay back against a pillow. The sight of her like this, vulnerable and sleepy, melted Wesley’s heart.

  “You can lie next to me. I mean, I want you to. Please?” Chloe said.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea–”

  “Wesley.”

  He couldn’t refuse her. He moved onto the bed, lying stiffly on top of the covers. They turned toward each other, barely a hand-span between them. The bedside lamp lit up Chloe’s hair, and the intensity of her green eyes.

  “You don’t wear your bear,” Wesley observed, noticing her bare neck.

  “My friend took it for safe keeping. She wanted me to get over you. To move on.”

  “A friend here?” He asked.

  Chloe nodded.

  Wesley closed his eyes for a second, her words like a weapon that cut at him. She had missed him. She had wanted him. And he hadn’t been there for her.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly.

  Chloe sighed quietly, sounding inescapably sad.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Her hand reached forward, moving a strand of Wesley’s hair away from his temple. Wesley had always kept his hair “hippy long” as Tanner Holt, Chloe’s dad referred to it—just to the nape of his neck. He’d wanted to cut it short, many times, but Chloe had always made such an angry fuss that he’d stopped doing it—and hadn’t wanted to after he left her.

  Chloe smiled.

  “I’ve always loved your hair.”

  “I was just thinking about that. Your temper tantrums when I tried to cut it.”

  Wesley smirked as Chloe’s cheeks grew pink.

  “Temper tantrums were a long time ago,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “I don’t think you realize that I’ve grown up—not really, do you?”

  “Believe me, I know you’ve grown up,” Wesley replied gruffly. His body was painfully aware of how Chloe had grown up. His desire flared and burned whenever he laid eyes on her—and had done so ever since she was sixteen.

  “That boy tonight.” Chloe started, then hesitated. Closing her eyes briefly, she continued. “He’s from a wealthy, well-established family. He has a 4.0 gpa. He’s a star football player. He would have had a great career ahead of him. He would have taken me anyplace I wanted to go. Huge house, nice car…everything you always thought you couldn’t give me. I just want you to know that.”

  Wesley fell silent.

  The gaping hole in his logic, the reasons he stayed away from Chloe, were becoming more and more painfully apparent.

  “I should have given you the choice,” he said honestly. “I didn’t think you were old enough to make it logically. I should never have taken that away from you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Do you think you can ever forgive me?” He asked quietly, looking into the deep pools of her eyes. Desperate to see a flicker of desire there—to see his own salvation.

  “Will you give me the choice now?”

  Wesley swallowed. His mouth suddenly dry as a desert.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want? Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Don’t patronize me, Wes. I’m not a child any longer, and I know what I want.”

  Wesley nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  “Then I want you, Wesley Reed.”

  He leaned forward, his body burning. He brushed his lips against hers, his fingers grazing her cheekbone. Chloe’s mouth parted, deepening the kiss and pulling him to her. He could feel his whole body drowning in her taste and delicious aroma, his tongue gently exploring her mouth as he grew so hard, he thought he might explode.

  He had only ever experienced a shadow of this intensity in his dreams of Chloe—touching her, holding her like this was visceral and almost painful.

  Wesley groaned, tearing his lips away from hers.

  “Wait–”

  “What’s wrong,” said Chloe, confused and breathless. He saw hurt flicker across her expression.

  “There’s nothing wrong,” he said quickly, “I just want—I want you to know everything first. You know I’m a shifter.” Wesley paused, unsure how to say the rest. “Which means that I have a mate. You do know what mates are to a shifter, right?”

  Chloe nodded slowly. Her pained look turning to terror.

  “Wesley, not now. I don’t want to hear this right now. Don’t break my heart again.” To his surprise she moved closer, clutching his body like she never wanted to let him go. She buried her head in his shoulder, as if she didn’t want to hear him.

  “It’s you, Chloe.” He rasped. “You have to know it’s you. How would anyone else compare?”

  She moved back to face him, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

  “I don’t really know what it means,” Wesley continued. “Hell, until five years ago, I didn’t even know what a shifter was. But when I found out, I knew you were mine right away. That’s why I had to leave. You were so young—how could I burden you with something like that? The way it was explained to me…it sounded so final and absolute and at the time, you hadn’t even gotten a chance to date, to experience other guys.”

  Chloe smiled gently.

  “Well, I know exactly what it means,” she replied. “It means you’re an idiot, Wesley Reed. It means we were born to be together. It means I don’t have to try out other guys, nor do I want to. There’s no point. Me and you are forever. And there’s nothing scary about that.”

  She kissed him again. Wesley felt the armor surrounding his heart break and fall away. There was nothing to fear. She had known all along what being his mate meant—far better than he did. He was an idiot.

  He deepened the kiss. He no longer needed to hold back. He rolled his body, throwing the covers away from her. He wanted to see her—all of her. She clung to him, her thighs rubbing against his erection. He moved his hand down, burying it beneath her sleep shorts and finding the slickness at the apex of her thighs. He gently stroked the softness there, feeling her grow wetter and wetter beneath his touch. He reached his fingers upward, losing his mind, wanting to be buried deep inside her.

  Chloe rocked against his fingers, softly breathless and mewing. She cried out softly, and Wesley mouth covered her lips, swallowing up her moans of pleasure.

  He ripped the shorts away, then hurriedly pulled up her camisole. He took a sharp intake of breath as her breasts tumbled out, her nipples the same dark pink as her lips—swollen and taut. He covered them with his mouth sucking gently as she groaned, wrapping her fingers in his hair. She was perfect. More perfect than he’d imagined all those lonely nights when the only thing he could think of was her.

  He couldn’t wait any longer.

  He shoved down the tracksuit pants, kicking them to the end of the bed with his feet. Chloe’s hands ran down his body, her panting becoming louder as she gazed on his erection.

  “We don’t have to go any further, if you don’t want to,” he murmured.

  “I do want to,” Chloe replied breathlessly. She reached out her hand, tentatively stroking his manhood. Wesley felt its muscles flicker and jump at her touch. As Chloe’s grasp grew tighter, Wesley thought he was going to explode. His scrotum tightened as Chloe shifted herself closer to him, guiding him between her thighs.

  “You’re going to have to help me from here,” she murmured. “I’ve never done this before.”

  Wesley nodded, trying to pretend he wasn’t
exploding with pride—so grateful to be her first, and so honored that she trusted him.

  He leaned up on his shoulders, gently pushing himself inside her. She was soaking wet, and Wesley had to take a few calming breaths in order not to just ejaculate there and then. With painstaking slowness, he pushed deeper, feeling her muscles tighten around him.

  “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop,” he breathed.

  Chloe shook her head, “No stopping.” Kissing him deeply, she widened her legs, urging him on with her hips.

  Wesley tried to keep his pace as slow and gentle as possible. His breathing became ragged and sharp, his muscles flexing and tightening at the effort of maintaining control.

  “More,” panted Chloe, “please.”

  He pushed into her more deeply, worried that he was hurting her, but instead she flexed her hips, meeting him—wanting him to enter her.

  “You’re not going to hurt me—I promise.”

  Wesley thrust once, then again. When no cry of pain came, and only soft moans of pleasure, he continued to move inside her, deeper and deeper, grunting in pleasure as the friction sent electricity buzzing through his body. He pulled her down further on the bed, lifting her hips, pushing himself deeper inside. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He growled, knowing he was about to come. He moved faster, Chloe’s pants becoming louder until she cried out in pleasure, her body shivering, her nails scraping down his arms. He exploded inside her, feeling her gently sucking everything he had to give. His whole body jerked, shaking from the release.

  Wesley collapsed, laying down beside Chloe and drawing her against his chest. He had never known such peace or contentment.

  He heard Chloe emit and equally contented sigh.

  “Can we do that again, please?” She asked.

  He nodded, “For the rest of our lives.

  Epilogue

  Chloe, Tanner, Heather, Derek and Audrey stood in the crowd at the Super Bowl, screaming and applauding the Chicago Bears win against the New York Giants. Alongside them were Chloe’s friends, Mia and Harper, cheering just as loudly as Chloe’s family. Next to them stood O’Neill and his wife, Sophia. The couple had become important to Chloe—once O’Neill accepted the fact that Wesley would have a girlfriend during the season—no if, ands or buts. Chloe had a lot to thank Sophia for in that regard.