ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories) (359 page)

              "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 adorned 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.

This was something she wrestled with on her way up to her room.  On one hand, she did not want to pry deeper than what he had already been willing to share with her.  On the other, she was in Italy; what she did now could hardly matter.  Should she go down to his room?  She knew where he stayed and that there was no question of a roommate--he was, after all, the
Lonely
Canadian for a reason. But what if, she thought, slipping her warm wool coat off her shoulders, he did not have to be alone tonight?  

              Quickly, before she could change her mind, Lilly slipped out of her room and headed towards the stairs, heart thumping so loudly she was sure the whole hotel could hear it.  She’d simply knock on the door and ask if he wanted to talk.  That was all.

              Room 101.  This was it.  It was now or never.  Lilly raised her fist, and, before she could give in to her impulse to run back up to her room and hide beneath the covers in lustful agony, knocked on the door.

              Brent opened the door and Lilly almost lost her power of speech.  She had imagined all kinds of scenarios, intimate talks, and coy things left unsaid, but she had never imagined quite this particular progression of events unfolding before her.

              The tall Canadian had, indeed opened the door, but the severely grumpy expression on his face told her that he had managed to fall asleep.  And she had just woken him up.  But it was not fear that had robbed Lilly of her ability to formulate words.

              He had opened the door in nothing but the blue sweater that matched his swallow-you-whole eyes exactly and a pair of black boxer briefs lined in blue.  Even caught by surprise, he was remarkably well-coordinated.

              But before Lilly could even begin to consider that fact, she realized that her heart was not beating normally.  It had actually stopped.

              Because the Lonely Canadian looked, how should she put it?  Oh so incredibly good.

              His powerful upper body tapered into a slim waist, and his legs were even leaner with muscle than the promise of his jeans could have lent to her already fevered imagination.  His blonde hair was tousled over his chiseled face and that small furrow between his eyes that screamed against the intrusion of light into his dark room begged to be kissed away by a pair of willing lips.  

              Her
lips.

              “I-I came to borrow some earplugs if you have them,” she stammered.  “My roommate snores, so…” she trailed off.

              The furrowed eyebrows unwrinkled and Brent turned around to search his room for the requested device.  The sight of his small, neat butt temporarily stopped Lilly’s breathing.  She could not tear her eyes away from his legs, tanned gold like the rest of him, thick muscles working as he walked.

              He came back to the door and handed her two small white earplugs.  “Thanks,” she said quickly, pocketing them, disappointed.  She was turning around to leave when Brent spoke.

              “Do you want to come in?”

              Lilly’s heart jumped up in joy.  She looked back at him shyly as he opened the door wider, and went in.

              Brent sat down on the edge of the bed, rumpled with sheets and gestured towards the cushioned chair catty-corner from him.  He looked like a model, she thought, nestling her body into the burgundy seat, posing for one of those “Hot Guys Getting Up in the Morning” articles.  He placed his elbows on his knees and propped his chin upon his hands.  

              “I enjoyed talking with you, you know,” he said to her suddenly, fixing those intense eyes on her face.

              Lilly swallowed hard.  “Did you?”

              “Yes.”

              “I did, too.”

              “It felt amazing to be able to share all of that with someone,” he said, moving over on the bed so he was at the foot of the chair.  “Especially someone like you.”

Her heart really
was
beating indecently loudly.  “And what am I like?” she asked, hardly believing her boldness.

              “Well, you know,” he was saying, getting up and putting his arms on each one of the armrests of the chair, closing off her escape.  Not that she had any desire to run.  All she could do was focus on the mouth, that incredibly soft-looking mouth forming the words that excited her.  “Someone sweet,” he said, leaning in towards her ear until she could feel his warm breath tickling her.  Her eyelashes fluttered; she was dizzy, wanting to shut her eyes so that the feeling that was innervating her all the way down to her toes wouldn’t go away.  “Someone sexy,” said Brent, and then, very unexpectedly, placed a gentle kiss on Lilly’s neck.  She heard somebody moan aloud, and realized with a shock that it was her.

              She opened her eyes, and she could feel an intense wave of vulnerability and desire sweep over her as she looked up at him.  “You think I’m sexy?” she asked softly.

              With a huge grin and growl, he hauled her up by the arm and pressed her to him, peppering her neck and face with soft kisses until she could feel her chest heaving.  And then he took her face in his hands and kissed her full on the mouth, so firmly and with such complete mastery that Lilly literally felt her knees go weak.