Howling for My Baby

by Beverly Rae

  “I’m sorry, babe.”

  “I know. But it’s not your fault. You’re willing to try and he’s not. Until he is, it’s simply the way things are.”

  They grew quiet, letting the sounds of the night surround them.

  “Tell me. What do you think?” Jason nuzzled her ear in the exact spot he knew drove her wild.

  “Hmm? What do I think about what?” She rested her weight on him. Sighing, she watched the pack of cubs play in the meadow below their vantage spot on the rocks. The view under the full moon was almost as nice as the company. “Are you sure they can’t see us up here?”

  “I’m positive.” A nip on her ear told her what he thought about her dodging the question. “You know what I’m talking about. What do you think about my family?”

  “Oh, your family.” He continued nipping along her bare shoulder, sending shivers through her. “Well, let me see. Your father seems gruff, but I think he’s a pussycat underneath his tough exterior.”

  “Let him hear you call him a pussycat and you’ll find out how tough he really is.” His tongue traced the same path. “He’ll bite your head off.”

  I bet he would. Syd leaned her head to the side and craned her neck to place a peck on his cheek. “I like him. He reminds me of my father.”

  Jason choked at the comparison. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No I’m not. Seriously, think about it. They’re both strong men. They’re both rough around the edges. And they both love their kids.” Even though Skeller hadn’t accepted her new life yet, she was sure that one day he would.

  “Okay, maybe they’re a little alike. Shit. So far you’ve compared my old man to a cat and a hunter. Yup, you sure know how to win and influence your new family members.” His hands massaged her shoulders, relaxing her.

  “Then there’s your brother, Daniel.”

  “Mmm? Yeah, my brother. And?”

  He nipped her neck, maybe a little too hard. “Jason, do you want to hear my impressions of your family or what?”

  “Um, how about later? Right now I’d rather get busy again.” He feathered kisses along the curve of her neck and turned her to run his lips over hers.

  The man was insatiable, but she wouldn’t give in. At least not yet. “Uh, what was I saying?”

  “Beats the hell outta me.”

  The hot gleam in his eyes caught her breath and she fought to keep her mind on her words. “Oh yeah, your, uh, brother. He’s handsome and such a good leader. And─”

  “If you say sexy I’m going to have to mess up his face.”

  “Ah, the green head of jealousy strikes.” He tried pulling her closer, but she resisted. “Jason, I’m trying to have a conversation.”

  “Uh-huh. But can’t we talk later?” He feigned a silly pouting face.

  She giggled. “Let me finish. Oh, yeah, I was going to say…and he’s so in love with Torrie. Plus, he’s a great father to their children.”

  Jason groaned and leaned away from her. “Okay, I give. Let’s get this discussion over with. So what did you think about Torrie?”

  “She’s terrific. I’m amazed at how she handles the kids without any effort.”

  “That reminds me. Torrie wants you to stay and teach the children.” He wrapped his arms around her again, tugging her closer.

  “I know.”

  “Well?”

  “I guess I’ll have to.”

  “Are you sure? Someone once told me she didn’t have to go anywhere with anyone. Seems to me the same thing would hold true for staying anywhere with anyone. In other words, you don’t have to teach here if you don’t want to. We can always live in town and you could keep your job at the school. You could even commute.” He kissed her softly, lovingly.

  “I know, but I want to stay. These children are special and free.” She slid out of his arms, slipped to the ground, then tugged him off the rock to join her. “Where else do kids get to run around at night like this? Besides…”

  “Torrie will call them into the cave soon.” He questioned her with his eyes. She started to sway, moving him with her. “What are you doing? And besides what?”

  “I’m dancing, silly.”

  “First you want to talk and now you want to dance? What’s next? Karaoke?”

  She slapped him playfully on the chest. “I need to tell you something.”

  They swayed in a circle, molding their bodies together, and she took his mouth with hers. He responded, holding her tightly until she broke away.

  “So tell me.” He winked at her and grinned the special grin she knew he saved for her. “What ’cha got up your sleeve, woman?”

  “I’m not wearing any sleeves.” She giggled and grew serious, diving into his deep brown depths. “I want to stay and run the school. After all, I love teaching children. Besides, I’m sure teaching my own will be even better.”

  She waited. When he didn’t get her hint, she rolled her eyes and tapped him on the nose. “I’m pregnant, you boob.”

  He blinked and did nothing more. No reaction at all.

  “Jason?” Had she misjudged him? She’d thought he’d rejoice at the news, but the longer he stared at her, the less sure she became. “Say something. You’re scaring me.”

  He blinked again and narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to have a baby?”

  “That is what pregnant means.”

  “And it’s mine, right?”

  Her jaw dropped, stunned at his question, and she stepped away from him. Anger wasn’t far behind. “Tell me you didn’t say what I think you just said.”

  “Well, you did say my brother was handsome and a good father.” Jason wiggled his eyebrows and winked at her again.

  “Oh, you dog, you!” She swung, but he caught her slap halfway to his face. “I wish I had a gun right now. Why, I ought to─”

  Taking her other arm, he put both around his neck and drew her to him. “Good grief, Syd. You ought to know when I’m ribbing you by now. But I know one thing I’ll never joke about.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah? What?”

  He touched her soul with his intense look and quickened her pulse. “I’ll never joke about my love for you.”

  She melted from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. “Kiss me, wolfie.” Jason’s laughter rang out over the meadow before he brought his lips to hers.

  About the Author

  Beverly Rae’s witty, sexy, action-packed romances leave readers experiencing a wide range of emotions. As a multi-published author, Beverly is always working on her next book, taking the “usual” and twisting it into the “unusual.”

  To learn more about Beverly, please visit www.beverlyrae.com. Send her an email at info@beverlyrae.com or join her Yahoo! Group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Beverly: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Beverly_Rae_Fantasies.

  Look for these titles by Beverly Rae

  Now Available:

  I Married a Demon

  To Fat and Back

  Touch Me

  Wailing for Love

  Coming Soon:

  Magical Mayhem

  What’s a nice girl like me doing with a demon like you?

  I Married a Demon

  © 2008 Beverly Rae

  Jennifer Randall ignored her instincts and rushed into a vacation-fueled romance and quickie marriage to devilishly handsome Blake Barrington. But as a Level 10 Protector with the super-secret Society, how’s she supposed to keep the man she adores happy while hunting down gargoyles, zombies and other evildoers of the Otherworld?

  As if balancing work and newlywed nookie sessions wasn’t hard enough, now she’s been assigned to find the Bracelet of Invincibility before a high demon lord can claim it. And Blake seems hell-bent on distracting her at every turn.

  Blake Barrington will do anything to regain his mortality and live happily ever after with the woman he loves. Including delivering to his demon lord the one object that could be his salvation—the Bracelet. Too bad part of the c
ontract includes killing his wife. Getting around this small glitch might be doable…if his ghoul-cursed brother wasn’t after the prize, too.

  Jenn’s suspicions mount, and finally the evidence is undeniable. Her sexy spouse is a demon.

  Great. Now what? Shag her husband? Or shoot him

  Warning: Okay, so there’s graphic sexual language. So what? Trust me, if chopping off a few demons’ heads doesn’t bother you, why would the sex? Either way, it’s all good.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for I Married a Demon:

  At the exact moment I noticed him, he was only a few feet from me. Mr. Ta-DaH—my nickname for Mr. Tall and Dark and Handsome—lay sprawled like the King of the World basking in the sun, surveying his kingdom and the lowly subjects he allowed to share his beach. He held a drink in one hand and scrutinized me through dark sunglasses, his chiseled face a mask of controlled passivity except for the slight lift at the corners of his mouth.

  I’m good at playing cool. I have to know how to play it cool in my line of work—both of my lines of work. But this guy’s intense scrutiny was almost more than I could handle. With my sunglasses resting on the bridge of my nose, I nonchalantly spied on him, trying to appear unaware that he studied me. I tried to suck in my ass, hoping to make the dimples disappear, but knew the battle was lost before it began. How do you suck in a bottom, anyway? Is it the same as a butt clench? I sighed and hoped he liked women with junk in their trunks.

  The man was perfect. At least physically, but physical was all I had to go on. His wet hair, silky and shiny black, slicked away from his forehead and curled around his earlobes. Just the right amount of matching chest hair glistened with drops of perspiration, drawing my gaze to all the right places. Notice I said perspiration, not sweat. No one this good-looking ever sweats.

  I’m talking the perfect model of a man. The kind of man I’d buy if I could call in my order and have him delivered to my doorstep in thirty minutes or less. Remember how moviegoers went gaga over Matthew McConaughey when he started taking off his shirt? Yup, me, too. I was one of the hundreds, probably thousands of women, who sat through his movies, not caring about the plot. Instead we sat glued to our seats and waited for him to strip off his shirt and take the heroine to bed. Take M’s sex appeal and multiply it by a zillion times more heat and that’s what oozed from this guy.

  His shoulders, wider than the beach chair he leaned against, mesmerized me and I couldn’t keep from imagining the way they’d feel. I’d have donated my whole stack of traveler’s checks to charity just to feather my fingers over them. I could see the strength in his muscular arms and sense the power he could unleash at any moment. He pressed his mouth to the highball glass, moving his square jaw, and I had to fight to keep from dashing over and licking off the tiny drop of whiskey left on his upper lip.

  His eight-pack abs called to me. Come, Jenn. Come and run your hands over me. I let my gaze glide down his rock-hard abdomen. Can you blame me when my heart started pounding and my mouth went dry? Can you understand why the place between my legs overflowed with wetness?

  I pondered what to do. Should I say something? Why didn’t he say something? How long could we lie here and stare at each other? What would I do if he got up and walked away? Or even more frightening, what would I do if he came over?

  Then he smiled at me.

  My mouth dropped open. I lifted my head from my beach towel, forgetting to play it nonchalant. Instead I gaped like a schoolgirl with her first crush. He stood and started toward me, making me oh-so-aware of his height and brawn. My examination of this spectacular specimen started at the top and moved slowly downward.

  I’d never found men’s legs attractive before—I’m an upper torso kind of gal—but the black hairs on his legs, the firm tanned skin stretched over his runner’s tendons, converted me to a leg gal right then and there. My membership in the leg lovers fan club was sealed the minute he squatted next to my blanket and gave me a front row seat to the hard bulge in his swimsuit.

  Granted, his first words weren’t anything particularly clever, but he didn’t need clever. He could have read me the directions on how to buckle a seat belt and I’d have thought it wonderful, riveting, mysterious and oh, yes, sexy as hell.

  “Hi, there. Why are you watching me?”

  Thick as molasses and hotter than the center of the sun, his warm voice traveled over my naked skin and made me shiver in anticipation of steamy nights and luxurious mornings in bed.

  “Uh, no. I mean, no, I’m not watching you.” I rolled off my stomach and onto my side in what I prayed was a slinky kind of move, and propped my head with my hand.

  Sliding his sunglasses to the end of his nose, he arched one thick eyebrow upward and knowing eyes twinkled the word liar at me. “Oh, I see. My mistake.” His gaze left mine to make a very slow, very deliberate trek down my thong-clad body, and the tips of his mouth tweaked a bit higher.

  Thank you, oh tortuous elliptical machine.

  I swallowed, trying to force the liar’s lump in my throat all the way down to my stomach. Since when had I ever felt guilty about lying? I was proud I could lie with the best of them. In my line of work—both lines of work—I have to be able to stretch the truth. Otherwise, I might not live very long—or sell a bug-ridden condo. But something irresistible about him drew the truth out of me. “Okay. Maybe I was. But I was simply returning the favor, if you know what I mean.”

  He reached out to take a wayward strand of my hair off my cheek. Yet instead of putting it behind my ear to join the rest of my ponytail, he played with it, rubbing the strand between his two fingers as if he’d never experienced the texture of hair. I found myself wishing I’d spent the extra bucks for a salon-quality conditioner.

  “I do and you’re right. I apologize.”

  Huh? “What for?” I suddenly envisioned those fingers playing with my nipple instead of my hair. Forget the conditioner, think scented body lotion. The image was so intense, I wanted nothing more than to take his hand and bring it to my breast. How I kept from grabbing his hand, I’ll never know. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “For staring at you. I apologize for my rudeness.”

  Unnerved by his words, I sat up and tried to position my body as I’d seen countless swimsuit models pose in glossy magazines. Yet instead of stretching my torso and legs in an alluring way, I ended up sitting cross-legged like a big kid. A real turn on—not.

  “Oh, were you?” Argh! Stupid comeback, especially since I’d already accused him of staring at me.

  “Yes, but you can hardly blame me.”

  “I wasn’t blaming you, but I’d be interested in knowing why I can’t. I mean, since you’re apologizing.”

  He took off his glasses and, like in all those cliché romance books my mom used to read, our eyes met and a sizzle passed between us. “The answer is very simple. What man could not look at such a tantalizing sight?”

  Sure it was a corny line, but I fell for him right then and there. Off the deep end, over the cliff, dived in head first and all those other sayings people use when they fall in love at first sight. As if he could read my thoughts, he leaned closer and placed a feather-light kiss on my lips. Yet, although his touch barely brushed against my mouth, the result rivaled the explosion of a nuclear bomb between my legs. My body’s temperature jumped sky high, matching the burn of the sun on my shoulders.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  I knew a leading line when I heard it and I heard this one loud and clear. “The same thing I’m going to be doing in about fifteen minutes.”

  His eyebrows dipped toward his nose and he cocked his head to the side. “And what would that be?”

  “Having the best sex of my life.”

  Nitro? Meet glycerin…

  Biting Nixie

  © 2009 Mary Hughes

  A Biting Love novel

  Punk musician Nixie Schmeling is a hundred pounds of Attitude who spells authority a-n-c-h-o-r and thinks buying insurance is just on
e more step toward death. So she really feels played when she’s “volunteered” to run the town’s first annual fundraising festival. Especially when she finds out it’s to pay for a heavy-hitting, suit-wearing lawyer—who’s six-feet-plus of black-haired, blue-eyed sex on a stick.

  Attorney Julian Emerson learned centuries ago that the only way to contain his dangerous nature is to stay buttoned up. He’s come from Boston to defend the town from a shady group of suits…and an even shadier gang of vampires. But his biggest problem is Nixie, who shreds his self-control.

  Nixie doesn’t get why the faphead shyster doesn’t understand her. Julian wishes Nixie would speak a known language…like Sanskrit. Even if they manage to foil the bloodthirsty gang, what future is there for a tiny punk rocker and a blue-blooded skyscraper?

  And that’s before Nixie finds out Julian’s a vampire…

  Warning: Contains more eye-popping sex, ear-popping language and gut-popping laughs than can possibly be good for you. And vampires. Not sippy-neck wimps, but burning beacons of raw sexuality—this means passionate blood-heating, violent bloodletting, and fangy bloodsucking. Oh, and cheese balls. Those things are just scary.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Biting Nixie:

  “We might as well go, Nixie. Since the bands can’t audition tonight.”

  “Yeah, but when? I need to audition the bands like yesterday. The festival’s less than two weeks away!”

  “You’ll find a time, I’m sure.” Julian dragged me out the door of the Kosmopolitisch. The moonlight etched his flared nostrils and sharp eyes.

  “What,” I said as he dragged me down the street.

  His eyes were so intense they must have pierced every shadow. When he answered, he sounded distracted. “What, what?”

  “You’re doing your Elmer Fudd imitation. Do you think the lights-out wasn’t because Cary didn’t pay his electric bills?”

  His eyes closed briefly, as if in pain. “Do you ever speak a known language? Sanskrit, perhaps?”