Tall, Dark and Paranormal: 10 Thrilling Tales of Sexy Alpha Bad Boys

by Opal Carew

  “Yes, Jolie, I do want to live again. And I have you to thank for it.”

  He set down the charcoal and walked over to her.

  “Me?” Her eyes, big and violet and—yes—hopeful followed him all the way over as she scooted against the back of the sofa to give him room.

  “Yes, you, Jolie.” He sat next to her. “It was your happily-ever-after speech that first day, mentioning sixteen-year-old unwed mothers and the mother who couldn’t spell your name right, and I saw you.”

  “Me?”

  “You.” He tucked a strand of her soft silky hair behind her ear, trailing his fingers over the rest of it, imagining it caressing him. “There’s so much life in you, so much fire, the desire to not let anything bring you down. And I thought to myself, how amazing it is that this woman who claims nothing and no one, goes on, driving ahead to carve out her place in this world, the past be damned. Nothing’s going to stop you from getting what you want, Jolie, and that invigorated me. It inspired me. And it awed me. It does that still. You do that still.”

  “I do?”

  He smiled, recognizing that it was all true. “You’re parroting me again.” He traced her lips. “I know one way to stop that.”

  “You do?”

  “Uh hmmm.”

  He had to kiss her. Just had to. One soft kiss to capture this tenderness, this new, raw emotion. He cradled her head and brushed the barest of kisses on her soft lips.

  She returned it tentatively. He understood. She’d been let down in the past; he’d been hurt. Two scared, battered people coming together.

  He slid his fingers into that curtain of hair by her temples, angling her mouth to fit against his and he tasted the seam of her lips.

  Desire shot straight to his groin, hot and fierce. She gasped against his mouth, opening, her tongue meeting his with the same intensity, and, in a second, the kiss changed.

  Heat flooded him, his blood pounding in his ears, his cock standing to attention, and suddenly he had to get closer. He pulled her against him, but pain sliced down his spine.

  “Jolie.” He pulled away. “My back. It doesn’t want to angle this way. Hold on.” He shifted on the narrow sofa, trying to pull her onto his legs without dislodging the drop cloth—more for her modesty than anything else—when Jolie put a hand on his.

  “Todd.” Her voice, low and throaty, conjured pictures of her naked and sated.

  “Yes?”

  Jolie licked her lips. Quickly, unconsciously, her eyes staring into his, the tempo of her breathing matching his, her fingers trembling against the thin barrier between them.

  It could have been an hour that they stared at each other; it could have been a lifetime. He’d never know. But it was as if they stood on a precipice, wind howling around them, a band of angry thieves rushing toward them, then—

  Jolie lowered the drop cloth.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  She was beautiful. But then he’d known she would be physically because she was in every other way. “Jolie, are you sure?”

  “I’m in l—I’m sure, Todd. The question is, are you?”

  A gift. He’d been given a gift.

  For the second time in his life.

  He turned around on the sofa, his hip next to hers, and stretched out beside her, his eyes never leaving hers. He slid one hand beneath her to caress the soft skin at her waist; his other hand found her cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. Her breath caught just as he leaned in to kiss her eyes closed. “I’m sure,” he whispered against her lashes.

  That was all it took.

  Her arm went around his neck and he pressed her to him, her breasts crushed against his chest, their lips finding each other. Tongues meeting, stroking, Jolie groaned, the sound reverberating along his nerves and suddenly he couldn’t get enough of her mouth. He couldn’t get enough of her. It was as if a dam had burst. All this long-denied feeling, the desire for her, came pouring out of him, and he wanted to wrap her in a cocoon of aching need and want.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair, fanning it over them, feeling the soft strands on his arms, imagining it raining down on his chest. He fisted some of it, tugging her head back, allowing him to trail kisses from her mouth over her jaw and down the long, graceful line of her neck. Her pulse fluttered against his lips; he could feel her shallow breathing as her breasts rose against his chest, and he wished he’d had the forethought to rip off his stupid t-shirt.

  He cupped her, grazing the nipple with his thumb, desire tightening his balls as it pebbled for him. Her head fell back more, this time through no effort on his part, and he traced her collarbone with his tongue, kissing the soft hollow at the center. Her skin smelled of lavender, a soft sheen gliding against his cheek as his lips sought her.

  “Jolie… “ He breathed in her scent, kissing every inch of her breast, mouthing the soft flesh down to the nipple. Rock hard, it perked upwards as if begging for his attention. He groaned, taking it into his mouth, and Jolie called out his name.

  Desire licked through him as he circled her nipple with his tongue. She speared her hands through his hair, holding him close and he sucked, each of her breaths pulsing her further into his mouth.

  “Your breasts are spectacular,” he murmured against them.

  “And by the way, they’re real.”

  The line from a Seinfeld episode made him laugh. He pulled back. “God, Jolie, there’s no one like you.”

  “I certainly hope not, because you might mistake her for me.”

  “Never, Jolie. No one can ever be you.”

  ***

  Todd’s eyes were the dark forest green she remembered from the last time he’d kissed her. His golden hair, tousled—by her fingers this time—fell forward, framing his eyes, making them seem like the only thing in the room, and Jolie sank into their depths.

  He wanted her.

  She was almost afraid to believe it. But when she glanced down to see his tanned fingers against her breast, her nipple moist from the warmth of his mouth, the rise and fall of his chest, she believed.

  And she wanted. She needed.

  She desired.

  And was desired.

  It gave her courage. It gave her validity.

  And it gave her the right to want him.

  “I need to feel your skin.” She tugged on his shirt. Wanted to feel it against her, around her… in her.

  Time had no meaning. One minute there was a shirt between them and the next, it was all smooth, golden bronze skin lightly dusted with more golden hair, and Todd was kissing her again.

  The kiss claimed her. It wasn’t sexual in any foreplay way, but a “you are mine and there’s no one else here between us” thing and it was her undoing.

  She ended up beneath him and they pulled and tugged the drop cloth from between them, all the while somehow keeping their lips and bodies in constant contact. Somehow Todd shed his shorts and, dear Lord, the man did go commando.

  His fingers skimmed down her body from the sides of her breasts, around to her tush to dance along the band of her thong. “You’ve got a thong on.”

  “Yes.” Way to state the obvious, both of them.

  “Do you know how sexy that is?” His breathing kicked up more notches than she even knew there were.

  “Why don’t you show me?” Naughty Girl left residual effects, apparently.

  But Todd didn’t seem to mind. He growled and her insides got all quivery, then his very big, very hard, thrusting bit of evidence pulsed against her thigh and her melting insides flowed out between her legs. She had no defenses left against him, against this feeling—yes, this love—she had for him.

  “Oh, God, Jolie.” He stopped.

  Stopped?

  “What?” He stopped? Her mind was trying to process this series of events while her eyes searched his.

  “Protection. I don’t have any.”

  Well, there was a mood-kill.

  “Um.” Gosh, she’d never thought about that in any of
her imaginings. “Well, I haven’t been with anyone in—” she did some quick mental calculations—”six years, and even then we used, um, protection. And I’m on the pill.”

  “You are?”

  She nodded. “Feminine reasons.”

  He smiled. “Well, that’s good, I guess. For this. Now.” He swept some hair from her face. “I haven’t been with anyone but Trista since I met her, so I should be fine.” His eyes brushed over her lips again. “Should we, that is, do we risk it?”

  Interesting how her pitiful dating life actually came in handy. As for the risk… no way was she stopping now. This might be her one and only shot at something that constituted happy in her life. “Yes. We do.”

  “Oh, God, Jolie. What have I done to deserve this? You?”

  She could give him a whole list, but he didn’t give her the chance before she was swept up in the artistry that was Todd. He touched her, caressed her, kissed her as if she was the only woman in the world and he couldn’t get enough of her.

  His knee nudged hers apart. Not that they needed further encouragement. But the darned sofa was too narrow, so she lifted one leg along the back of it. Which had its recommendations, as his fingers danced along her inner thigh and her hips rolled against them.

  His lips re-sought her breasts and she had a hard time breathing. His fingers traced the piping on her thong and she wanted to rip the darned thing off. For such a flimsy piece of material it sure could get in the way.

  She couldn’t hold back the groan when he slipped inside the thong, finding the very heart of her desire. The man had dexterous fingers, which should come as no surprise considering his skill with a paintbrush. Truth to tell, she was beyond considering anything but the scent of him as she buried her face in his neck, the salty taste of his skin akin to ambrosia. She nipped the corded muscle there and it was his turn to groan.

  “Jolie, you feel so good.” The words escaped his mouth as she licked her way up to his ear, twirling her tongue around the outer shell. His fingers circled and stroked, one slipping inside, continuing the circling and stroking, and she ground her hips against him, drawing his earlobe into her mouth.

  His guttural moan set her heart pounding. “Todd.” She reached between them to stroke him. He pulsed against her hand and she had her own satisfaction growl happening. She’d done this to him. She and the person she was. The one worthy of being dreamt about.

  She closed her fingers around him and he groaned again, his fingers stilling in and on her. “Like that?” she asked against his throat.

  He nodded, then slowly slid his finger from her, her inner muscles protesting, clenching around him. Then she felt him smile against her as he thrust back in.

  Ahhhh.

  Her hand mimicked his and soon there was no telling whose heavy breaths were whose, which groans and sighs of pleasure belonged to which of them. They were both there together.

  And it felt completely right.

  So right it would scare her if she stopped to think about it.

  But no way was she stopping. Thankfully, he seemed to be on the same wavelength.

  His finger slid out of her to work the thong off and then she was as naked as he was.

  Oh, did it feel glorious.

  It felt right.

  “Todd, please.” She couldn’t stop the whisper as his erection throbbed against her when he slipped between her thighs.

  “I aim to do just that.” Strained laughter was in his voice.

  “I hope your aim is true,” she joked back.

  He pulled back and his eyes blazed into her, serious, ardent. “Very true.”

  She couldn’t speak.

  What was amazing wasn’t that he’d said it—though that was amazing enough—but what, a month ago, would have sent her screaming from the room, was now so natural, so right, it was like breathing.

  She lifted her hips, giving Heart and Body over to Todd.

  He nudged her mouth with the tip of his nose and she opened her eyes just as he claimed every part of her with a firm yet gentle filling completion.

  “Todd… it’s never been like this, I’ve never—”

  “I know, Jolie.”

  He knew? What did he know?

  “It’s perfect,” he answered her unspoken question. “You’re perfect.”

  She could do perfect. But what about love?

  Or was she asking too much?

  “I never thought I could care for someone else like this again.” His eyes bored into hers while the rhythm he set put her insides on high alert. “Jolie, you are truly aptly named. Beauty. Both inside and out.” He placed a kiss above her heart and she melted all over again.

  Melted literally, as there were tears leaking from her eyes. Todd kissed them softly and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  She considered saying something flippant, like “and away we go,” but she couldn’t. It was the most beautiful experience of her life as his skin stroked hers and their breathing kicked up to almost unbearable levels, their bodies moving in perfect unison.

  Slick with sweat—yes, this time she was sweating; for him, she would sweat—and they glided against each other, every tantalizing hair on his chest doing wonderful things to her nerve endings. Murmurs and sighs and groans signaled each new height. Moving together faster, gripping each other tighter, suddenly, it was upon them. The wonderful flash of pleasure, the soaring feeling as if her soul had taken wing, rocketing through the heavens.

  And she’d rather be on this trip with him than anyone else in the world.

  ***

  Finally, the world settled around them, sounds came back, the musky smell of lovemaking mixed with the oil paints that would forever remind her of this night and she smiled into his chest.

  She’d found a home.

  Finally.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Good evening, Beautiful.”

  There was no better way to wake up than with Todd’s smiling face mere inches from hers. “Evening?” She shook the cobwebs from her brain. “It’s that late?”

  Smiling, he bore not a trace of haunted in those eyes. “Well, early evening, but close enough. What are you worried for? You don’t have anywhere to be, do you? Though I have heard your boss is a tyrant.”

  “Yeah, a real brute. Likes to take charge, be in control, on top of things.”

  “Things? Or you?” Oh, he was right there with her on the teasing and it felt so good.

  She shrugged, doing a little come-hither from beneath her come-hither-less eyelashes. “Take your pick.”

  “All right, I will.” He surprised her with a quick tongue attack to the left breast. “I pick this one.”

  She threw her head back in sheer ecstasy. “You don’t play fair.”

  “Ah, but who wants to play fair when one can just play?”

  Good point.

  Which he proved quite nicely over the next hour or so.

  ***

  It was definitely on the long side of evening and heading straight into night when she stirred again. He twirled a piece of her hair through his fingers and she stretched like a cat after a long nap in the afternoon sun.

  “Hi.” He tickled her lips with the ends of her hair.

  She shook her head. “Hi yourself.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  “Ha.” He sat up and the drop cloth barely kept him presentable. Well, for public viewing. For private, it was covering way too much.

  His fingers flexed on her hip. “How does Chinese take-out sound to you, Miss Gourmet?”

  “Heavenly.”

  “Okay, then.” He grabbed his shorts off the floor and stepped into them. “Let’s drag ourselves down to the pool and we can eat there.”

  That glimpse of glutes nailed her to the sofa for a moment until she got her breathing under control.

  “Jolie?”

  “Um, okay. I’ll be right there. And I have to feed Boots.”

  “Must you?”
<
br />   “Of course I do! The poor little guy is probably starving.” She sat up and tucked the cloth beneath her arms, not that the modesty was needed. The guy had seen—and nibbled on—pretty much everything she had hidden.

  He did a mock sigh. “Fine, if you must. I’ll grab a quick shower and run down to the restaurant. What do you want?”

  Was a “side of Todd” on the menu? “Hunan Chicken, pork or chicken fried rice, lo mein. Really, anything’s fine.”

  “Anything? And here—” he leaned over to place another bone-melting kiss on her lips—”I thought you had discerning tastes.”

  “Hey, I do. I only go for the best.”

  He tweaked her nose. Wow. Playful and happy. There should be a big fluffy Cloud Nine under their feet right now.

  “Clever girl. You should think about writing a novel instead of that cookbook.” He walked out the door. “I bet it’d be a best seller.”

  She groaned—both at his play on words and the actual truth behind his statement. Suddenly her little non-disclosure was looming large on the horizon.

  So while Naughty Girl was away, Scarlett would come out to play—and worry about all of that tomorrow.

  Boots stretched when she went into the kitchen. Honestly, in her next life she was coming back as a cat. Chase a few mice, cough up a hairball or two, take a nap, have someone feed you, and all you had to do was rub up against them and purr in their ear. Yeah, that’d be the life.

  Kitty was eating, Todd was out getting dinner, and she was desperately trying to decide proper poolside attire. She still hadn’t bought a bathing suit. The magenta halter would have to do with a cute, black, flouncy skirt.

  She heard the dream machine pull into the driveway as she stepped into her hot pink flats. Okay, she needed some kind of fun shoes in her new wardrobe and the store was fresh out of kicky yellow ones. A girl had to have a vice or two.

  “Jolie, I’m back.” And there’d be one of hers.

  “Be right down. I’ll meet you at the pool.” And she was—right down. She was not about to lose one more minute in his presence. If it wouldn’t have seemed too weird, she would’ve tried to finagle a double shower and gone with him for the meal, but she had to have some kind of self-control. Not to mention, there’d be the question of when they’d eat if there’d been the shower-a-deux.