ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories)

by Hawke, Jessa

  Well, there was one thing Lilly thought she might like wrapped around her more than just the night air.

  It had been an incredibly long and difficult two years since her move from Texas to New York. First, the apartment she had set up for herself had been rented out to somebody else. Then, she had had to drop out of her master's studies because she couldn't pay tuition. And worst of all, after she had moved in with the Brooklyn bar owner she was dating, she caught him in bed with some skinny-minny blonde little thing who was no older than eighteen. What was a girl to do?

  She had picked herself up and found a job as a front-of-desk secretary for an Upper West Side psychiatrist and could now afford to pay for part-time classes. Sure, her new apartment's ceiling leaked during snowy days and smelled like cats, but at least she could afford one of those big, luxurious mattresses that could actually house her body- no twin beds for this girl! After all she had been through, especially being dumped and thrown out on her butt for a slimmer model, Lilly felt she deserved a treat. So when she came across GoGo's winter deal for a ten-day trip to Italy Lilly's heart jumped. Italy, the birthplace of DaVinci and Casanova? How could she say no?

  Five minutes and a click of her mouse button later, she was on her way, palms sweating.

  She had never traveled alone before, and was not at all sure she would enjoy herself, even in a place as beautiful as Italy. Her heart pounded as she read the itinerary- Rome, Florence, Venice, Maestra- Maestra? Where on earth was Maestra? Still, she could not wait to go. What was Italy like in the winter/ she wondered, packing warm woolen tights and, as a temptation to fate, some lacy bras and panties. You never knew what might happen.

  Her mother, when she heard of the trip, stayed very true to her one-track mind. "Maybe you'll meet a guy!" she cried into the phone.

  "Mom," said Lilly, exasperated, tossing some more toiletries into her suitcase, "This is a trip I'm taking for ME. I don't want to meet a guy.' At least, not in the traditional sense. It might be nice to have a quick kiss and a cuddle with a cute local somewhere. But she did not tell her very traditional, proper mother that.

  GoGo Travels specialized in group tours for people ages twenty five to thirty five, so Lilly knew that at least she would not have to worry about a bunch of little drunk teenagers ruining her special trip. Would her fellow travelers like her, though? Would she like them? Lilly could not quell the anxious thoughts.

  Unexpectedly, the other travelers turned out to be predominantly Australian, and Lilly found that she quite liked their mellow, relaxed attitudes towards pretty much everything. Since so many of them had he means to travel, most had been halfway around the world and back, and the first two days of the trip were filled with a frenzy of getting to know each other and hearing all about Sweden, Germany, and Thailand. There were twenty-nine people on the trip, paired off into rooms together, which left one odd man out who always had a single room to himself.

  They called him The Lonely Canadian.

  Her traditional upbringing told her that all good-looking guys were jerks, but after her last boyfriend, Lilly did not know whether or not she believed that. And besides, Brent Scond, the Lonely Canadian, was one fine piece of man-candy.

  Six two and leanly muscled through the hip and thigh, he was one of the few men who towered over Lilly and was not gangly, like a little boy. In fact, there was little about Brent that could remind any woman of anything little. She had seen his photos on the group page before arriving on the trip, and she knew even from that alone that this was one man she wanted to get to know a little more intimately.

  Lilly's flight to Italy had gotten in far later than expected, and she missed her shuttle to the hotel where the group was supposed to meet. A breathless taxi ride and an hour later, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place- should she rush down to meet the group, or did she have time to shower off twenty hours of plane and change? She ran to her room, hating the feeling of all her bits and pieces jiggling, and compromised, changing into a navy sweater and jeans that hugged her curves. Maybe if nobody got too close, they couldn't smell her. She had run down to meet the group, everyone already situated at little bar tables, doing a meet-and-greet.

  She spotted him right away, but the mop of sandy blonde hair carefully slicked back and the huge blue eyes that threatened to swallow her whole. Heart thumping in her not-unsubstantial chest, Lilly sat down across from him and couldn't resist peeking at him from the corner of her eye. And, she had to admit, she liked what she saw. He was cool, calm, as self-possessed as a man should be- which did not surprise her, considering he was the oldest person in the group, outfitted in slim-cut jeans that fit him well enough to send a flush up her cheeks. She liked the long, clean lines of his hands, with skin so smooth that she could just imagine him running them up her waist, pulling her towards him off silk sheets, skimming the lacy edges of the bra that contained her temporarily; as she watched his broad, beautiful lips crease into a warm smile, she saw him bend his face towards the swell of her full breasts in her mind's eye, to gently skim there, tantalizing her.

  But Brent never even glanced at her. When she caught him talking to Mara, a petite blonde with an elfish face, she wondered if that was his type. The uncomfortable thought sent her tugging her sweater self-consciously tighter around herself. Oh, forget it, she told herself. You didn't come here for that, anyway.

  The beauty of Rome the next day quickly overtook any discomfort she had experienced. After a quick tour from an excellent local guide, Lilly spent the day wandering the streets of the ancient city, breathing in the grandeur and art; she was amazed at the way she could feel the vein of biblical times weaving into the very life of the twenty first century. And she had to admit, she did not mind the way that the men on the street looked at her, either. She had heard that Italian men enjoyed a full-bodied woman, but she had never quite bought into that until she saw the appreciative glances of Roman men of all shapes and sizes. Still, she thought, as she waved goodbye to two skinny Italian waiters who eagerly walked her out of a local cafe with a pistachio gelato on the house, there was something about all of them that didn't quite measure up in her head.

  What was it? she wondered, as she sat on a marble bench in the city center in front of a balloon vendor pumping helium into heart-shaped creations. She realized that there was a certain something in all of their glances that had put her off; it was that she could almost narrate the thoughts in their head. The things I would like to do to that big, bella body, their eyes said, and it was just too close to what her unfaithful ex-boyfriend had said the first time they were in bed. She was so tired of the lies, the bad boys with smooth tongues who viewed her as nothing but an object. Besides, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, there was another reason she was finding herself unable to focus on the local cuties.

  If she was being perfectly honest with herself, it was because she could not take her eyes off of Brent. Something in the way he talked, the way he helped the girls retrieve their heavy suitcases from the bus made her think he was a gentleman despite the earring stud in his left ear and the black leather jacket he wore. Really, she thought, who believes in the fact that those things are the harbingers of being "bad" anymore?

  Besides, it might be nice if Brent got a little bad with her. Well, not bad- maybe a little... naughty. As the balloon man released a stream of color into the air, Lilly pictured knocking on Brent's door, watching him slide that leather jacket down his broad shoulders, those huge ocean-colored eyes looking into hers, burning with something hungry. Oh yes, she thought, that would be something indeed.

  After the GoGo group dined on pigeon steak and squid ink pasta that night, Lilly found herself unable to sleep. Partially, this was because her roommate snored louder than a garbage truck at 5 A.M., and partially because she could not stop thinking about Brent. Yes, he was one dangerously good-looking bastard, and probably knew it, but from watching him, it did not appear that it had gone to his head at all. Mara, the girl who dreamed of riding
away into the night on a Vespa, had been talking earlier about "short man syndrome," and the idea had made a lot of sense to Lilly.

  "Short guys are so concentrated on the fact that they're short that they don't have the time to make a woman feel good about herself," Mara was saying wisely to Lilly and three others over thimble-sized espressos.

  There was certainly nothing short about Brent. As she snuggled deeper into her covers, Lilly imagined that the cool press of fabric around her was actually Brent pressed against her, solid muscle on the soft flesh of her bottom, hardening and whispering into her ear that she was beautiful.

  Morning came much too soon with a wake-up call from an overly cheerful receptionist who could speak nothing but Italian. Groaning, Lilly pulled herself out of bed and into a gray wool skater dress while her roommate snored contentedly away. Fine, grumbled Lilly to herself as she walked down the stairs of a hotel too old-fashioned to have a functioning elevator, let her miss the bus. Between the awful snores and the flashes of Brent's golden naked skin that kept popping up in her mind, she had not gotten a wink of sleep all night.

  Her mood brightened considerably, however, when she saw that the dining room was empty except for one very familiar broad back in a deep blue sweater. Suddenly, Lilly was no longer angry that she was awake when everybody else was clearly getting their beauty rest in. Because now she could get to spend the morning with the pretty Canadian all alone.

  As she set a glass of grapefruit juice down on the table across from him, Lilly realized that her heart was pounding, a matter which did not resolve itself when the sandy-haired man peeked up at her with completely clear eyes and smiled widely as he took in her ample form encased in soft, warm wool. In fact, she thought her heart was going to leap right out of her mouth. He was clearly a person who relished mornings; seriously, it was a crime for anybody to look that good in the mornings. Was this honestly how he would look when someone woke up in bed next to him?

  Not, she thought wickedly as she smoothed the dress under herself to sit down, if she was the one he woke up next to.

  "Morning person, are ya?" she tossed casually at him, to mask the wantonness of her thoughts.

  He reached a long arm out to grab a muffin off his plate. "I’ve got to be, for my job," he answered.

  "What do you do?"

  "I'm a commanding officer in the Canadian navy."

  Lilly felt her pulse hammer right through the veins of her wrist and neck. "An off- like you wear a uniform?"

  Brent had the good grace to roll his eyes. "Yes, yes, it's corny."

  "Sorry, it's just when you say something like that, there's a certain...image that comes to mind," she said to him teasingly.

  He groaned, but she could tell he was enjoying the joke. "I swear, if I hear another woman say, 'Put on that uniform one more time, I'm gonna--"

  "Put it on again?" Lilly asked with a wink.

  The Canadian burst out laughing. "Well, maybe for the right woman."

  Lilly felt a little burst of happiness at their morning bonding and not a small measure of excitement at his last comment. The right woman, eh? Well perhaps he had simply not met that woman just yet. She finished her breakfast and walked out, feeling his eyes follow her swinging hips all the way out of the dining room. The trip had just gotten that much more promising.

  Upstairs, she packed what she needed in her purse for the day and grabbed a jacket. Would Brent sit next to her on the bus today? She caught sight of her reflection in the hallway mirror of the hotel room and pursed her lips self-mockingly. Although she knew that the question was completely juvenile, she couldn’t suppress the little thrill of excitement it sent all the way up her belly to her heart. If he sat next to her, he would be close enough to smell, and she had no doubt that that scent would send her senses into a scatter-brained daze. I’ll bet he smells like soap, she thought dreamily to herself, running a pale red lipstick over her full lips. Like he just got out of the shower and is standing in front of me in nothing but one of those tiny Italian towels, dripping wet, hair slicked back…

  Of course she was late for the bus, caught up in her own miniscule morning fantasy. Her consciousness buzzed angrily at her--if she had not been so caught up in imagining sitting next to Brent, she might actually have a seat next to him. She boarded the bus and looked out at the sea of filled seats in front of her, heart sinking.

  As she made her way through the bus, she spotted Brent sitting by himself towards the back by a window. Her heart jumped as she saw that the seat next to him was empty. She plopped down, afraid to look at him, ridiculously scared that he would shuffle away, but instead, the tall Canadian turned towards her and from beneath his dark sunglasses and black fedora, she caught a rather welcoming smile.

  “GoGo, good morning!” crooned the cheerful tour manager into the microphone. “Today, we are on our way to the tiny town of Maestra, but Verona, the city of love, the city where Romeo made amore to his sweet Giulietta, is right on the way. So we will make a quick stop there, si? And tomorrow, we will go into Maestra, where you can explore…”

  It was far too early to be listening to a speech that chipper and Lilly dozed off, conscious only of the warm, lean body beside her. For once, she was grateful that everything in Italy was so small, including the bus seats, because this meant that although she had to jam her body into a tiny space, it enabled her to press her body against that of the Canadian, one of her round thighs pressing against his lean one, perfect beneath his jeans.

  Sometime later, she heard rustling beside her and felt Brent moving. She pushed the hat she had pulled over her eyes to block out the harsh morning sunlight off in time to see him reach into his book bag and pull out an extra pair of dark sunglasses, which he then proceeded to put over her eyes instead of the hat. She smiled, flooded with a new wave of attraction to this man and his incredibly tender action.

  She knew she shouldn’t, but she pretended to fall asleep again and lolled her head against his shoulder. He pulled his arm out of the way and she fell against his chest, cradled in the crook of his shoulder. She could feel the chest below her ear, how solid it was, and the warm fabric of his sweater soft against her cheek. That was really what Brent was all about, wasn’t it? A strong character encased in politeness and sweetness, wrapped in an incredibly attractive package.

  Lilly felt the warm arm he had put around her pull her closer as Brent began to doze off. As if by accident, his fingers began to slowly stroke her arm, then her wrist, finding the sensitive flesh there. It reminded her of how college boys would try and convey their feelings to her just a few short years ago, with the main difference being that Brent was not a boy. And as a man, he surely knew what that tantalizingly delicious touch was doing to her.

  The strokes became longer and lighter, sending shivers up her as the upper cells in her arm reacted to his touch. His lips grazed the top of her head, and she could almost sense him relishing the scent of her white tea shampoo. He was murmuring something, and she couldn't catch it at first.

  “Hmm?” she just about purred aloud, surprised at the sultry notes in her voice.

  He snuggled deeper around her. “You’re so comfortable,” he murmured again, and Lilly felt a hot blush spread all the way down her body.

  Brent’s hand traveled down her arm to her thigh, and she was amazed again at the sheer size of the man. Few men dwarfed Lilly in height and girth, but Brent reached her legs easily and had just started the same stroking pattern on her thigh when the bus microphone crackled on and the unbelievably annoying voice of the tour guide announced that they were in Verona.

  Lilly and Brent stretched reluctantly, and she leaned her head back so she was looking up into his huge blue eyes. He caught sight of her expression and laughed aloud. “I know. I don’t want to move, either.” Nevertheless, the bus was clearing out. And so they both got up, shaking off the warm coziness. As she stepped into the aisle, she felt something being placed on her head. She turned around and discovered that Brent had adorne
d her with his black fedora. “So nobody steals you away,” he teased her, gaze lingering on her lips.

  Although seeing Juliet’s balcony had been a long-standing dream of hers, Lilly couldn’t wait until the tour was over and they were back on the bus. She only had one thought, and that was to get back into Brent’s arms. Still, the arch-dominated city was clearly meant for lovers, and by the time GoGo had boarded the bus again, a pleasant, sensual mellowness had filled Lilly.

  By no accident, she and Brent were sitting together again. This time, he had his headphones in, and Lilly felt more than a little rejected by his lack of attention. She shuffled away from him, closer to the window and at the slight movement, he turned towards her and, without saying a word or opening his eyes, he handed her one of his headphones. The simple gesture touched Lilly.

  “You’re really very nice, aren’t you?” she whispered, and at first, he was so quiet she was not sure he had heard her.

  But he had. And it was as if the floodgates had been opened; the conversation that followed that one phrase would stay with Lilly for many years as an example of perfect, shining harmony between two people who wanted to share things with one another. He told her about the ten year relationship that had gone sour, she told him of the boyfriend she had caught in a lie. They discovered things about each other that uncovered the parts of themselves that are closed off to strangers, and by the time they reached that golden moment in a conversation where the words flow freely, they were looking into each other’s eyes. And Lilly was aware of an ever-increasing desire to brush her lips, gently and trembling, against his, to taste his tongue and the salt of the pain he had been through on it, and have his hands, his beautiful hands, undress her with no regrets or fears. Still, when he looked away, she couldn’t tell if he felt the same way. After all, when she had held his hand as he shared with her, he had not held it back. More than anything, she wanted him to keep sharing with her.