by Nora Flite
-FOR THE WARMTH-
A Beyond Blood Novella Contemporary Erotic Romance/Menage USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Nora Flite
Copyright © 2015 Nora Flite
All rights reserved. FOR THE WARMTH is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Also from Nora Flite: Last of the Bad Boys
Only Pretend
For the Thrill
For the Fight
For the Bond
Hard Body Rock
Slow Body Rock
Flawed Body Rock
True Body Rock
Watch Me Fall
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
For the Warmth (A Beyond Blood Short) (MFM Romance)
- Chapter One -
- Chapter Two -
- Chapter Three -
- Chapter Four -
- Chapter Five -
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Check out more of | Nora's books! | NEW RELEASE!
The Beyond Blood Series:
The Body Rock Series:
Stand Alone Novels:
For the Warmth is a short novella that is part of the Beyond Blood series, it takes place between chapters 5 and 6 in book 3 (For the Bond)
It can be read as a sexy standalone, but you'll enjoy it so much more if you read the rest of the series, first!
Thank you and enjoy!
- Chapter One -
Marina
––––––––
I'm falling in love with killers.
Two killers, to be precise. I know; I'm insane for getting into this situation. I've never claimed to be the wielder of great fucking ideas.
They're smooth, dangerous, cunning and capable of whatever they deem necessary.
My two hitmen...
All mine.
Standing in front of the wide window, a place I often found myself loitering, I gazed down on the city. The sun was cresting, coating the sentinel buildings in gold and cherry. It was an hour where nothing should have stirred. Except this was New York, and it never really slept.
Kite's apartment had a view that was worth the price of admission. I'm not talking about actual cash. What that man with his quick smiles and wicked words asked of me was... something else.
Endurance, I mused, trying to make sense of my own thoughts. Spending time here, in his presence, demands that I hold myself together. That I risk crumbling in his energy and electric tension.
Resisting one alluring man was hard enough.
Two of them?
Laughing to myself, I pushed my forehead onto the glass. Kite was enough of an issue, always clouding my thoughts and warming my belly. His best friend, Jacob? Just rolling the name through my brain set every cell firing in warning.
As I said, they're killers; I had every reason to react viscerally to their presence. But it wasn't just that. Lord, if it could have been just that.
Rubbing my lower leg, I winced. There was a dark bruise beneath my jeans, left there from our recent foray in Upstate New York. The two men had suggested we play paintball, insisted it'd be both fun—and good for my training.
Sorry, training; I should explain that. You see, while it's clear I'm not exactly risk averse, I had a very good reason for spending so much time—sleeping in the same apartment, even—with these talented hunters.
They were murderers... and I needed someone dead.
See? Simple.
All I want is revenge for her. For my whole family. After I got that, I didn't care what happened to me. I knew the awful secret about Kite and Jacob, they were contract killers. That knowledge, given to the authorities, would be their undoing.
I had one safety net; a letter I'd locked away in the bank containing their info, explaining who they were in case something happened to me. It was essentially blackmail to guarantee they helped me.
But once I killed the monster responsible for everything, then handed them that letter as I'd promised?
I had no reason to think they'd allow me to live.
Taking a deep breath, I let the air coat the window in an opaque cloud. Lifting a finger, I started to write a name. Cece. My little sister. My sweet, long dead sister.
Shaking myself, I shut my eyes and focused. The memory of the hurt, the pain, the suffering... that would help me. I needed to be reminded of what I was doing. Why I was doing it.
My reason for living was to get revenge. It was all that mattered.
Nothing should distract me from my purpose—finding that man and seeing the light fade from his eyes.
Between my bitter need for revenge and the cold, sobering fact Kite and Jacob might snuff me out when this is over... I should find it easier to resist them both. My smile was wry. But here I am, constantly battling these stupid fucking feelings.
And they were stupid. Irrational.
Dangerous.
Behind me, I heard a small sound. My intuition prickled sharply. I turned, finding Kite standing in the wide room. His reddish hair glinted in the sunrise, but the light hardly penetrated his coal-black eyes. Eyes that reminded me of my own, but in color, only.
Even if I was out for blood... I was nothing like Kite.
He smiled, tilting his hard jaw and casting a shadow down his throat. He was wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts, and I didn't blame him. It was—all too suddenly—very warm in his apartment.
The knob on his deliciously long neck bobbed when he spoke, voice casual, buttery. “You're up early. I'm starting to wonder if you ever sleep in.”
Careful as I could be, I wiped my palm over Cece's name on the window. I saw Kite's glance, hoped he hadn't seen. “It's hard to sleep in, these days. Lots on my mind.”
Softness touched his face, and I regretted saying anything. Kite was many things, but the most surprising was the side of him that coerced me into opening up.
The me that had stalked up to him so bravely, so uncaring about the risk, just weeks ago... the me that didn't care what happened if I could only avenge my loved ones... so cool, so stoic...
Where had she gone?
Stop it, I demanded internally, even as Kite approached. Quit wondering about how you've changed. It isn't important.
But I knew that was a lie.
Kite leaned on the window, the muscles on his bare chest tightening with the motion. He was unfairly gorgeous. “You want to talk about it?” he asked, managing to make me forget—just for a second—who he was. What he'd done and what he would do before this was all over.
He rested his fingers on his own biceps. The knuckles that bore his unique tattoos across the knuckles, reading “swim,” glowed in the sunlight. Those hands; clever palms that could strangle a man in a blink, or pull a trigger and send a bullet straight into a heart.
Hands that could slide over my body and make me moan.
Fuck.
Clearing my throat, I put on a frail smile. “Nothing to talk about, don't worry. It's fine.”
“You're sure about that?” His eyebrows went up doubtfully.
I started to shrug, then flinched at the tight muscles. “Well,
alright. I'm not entirely fine, but I can thank you and Jacob for that.” Grinning, I pointedly peeled my pants up to show him the bruise on the inside of my knee. “Paintballs aren't exactly feathers.”
Chuckling low in his throat, a sound that stroked up my spine, he unfurled his arms. “That doesn't look so bad.”
“Excuse me?” I scoffed, letting my cuff fall back to my ankle.
His shadow grew over me, erasing the sunrise and making me forget light even existed—that anything existed—beyond his wicked smirk. How had he backed me against the glass? Dammit, he moved too gracefully.
“I think,” he purred, one hand coming down on the window near my temple. “I've left marks on you with my teeth that were worse than that.”
A ripple darted through my chest and down to my lower belly. Pure heat, it threatened to turn me inside out. Here it was; this was the side of Kite that pulled me in and made me forget just what he could do to me—No, I thought grimly. This side makes me remember what he HAS done to me.
My attempts to resist Kite had floundered early on. With time, it only became more difficult. My body had imprinted on his existence. That muscle-memory made my breath short, heart swelling into my throat.
He saw the reaction he was getting, and his lips just spread further. When he spoke again, his tone was low and gritty. It scraped through my core. “I recall you getting hit with a paintball somewhere else.”
When he touched the side of my neck, I jumped. His chuckle turned my skin pink. “Where?” I managed to say.
Kite flared his nostrils, palm crawling down and down until he was holding the bottom of my tight shirt. “Around here. Somewhere... ah.” The cloth peeled up, exposing my stomach, the bottom of my bra.
I knew the welt he was speaking of. The discoloration was the size of a quarter, sitting on the dip of my sternum. Kite breathed out, tracing his thumb like a shadow over my skin. “Yeah,” he said, meeting my eyes. “This is the one. Want to know a secret?”
The beating of my heart helped me weigh the seconds. Kite had so many secrets. From his tattoos to his history with Jacob... I was constantly eager for answers. “If it's about you, yes. Always.”
He froze, considering me again. I liked surprising him, it felt good to be on the other side, for once.
Shaking his head, Kite's smile went sideways. A nail scraped over the bruise, lifting goosebumps and making me shiver helplessly. “My secret... is that I'm not even sorry. I love seeing you covered in my marks, no matter how I get to make them.”
Oh, dammit—that throbbing need between my thighs was distracting. Kite's chest was nearly on mine, his scent washing through my skull. He liked marking me? What a bastard.
Except... god, it was making my knees fail. There was something so primal and intoxicating about wearing these tattoos of possession. But Kite was getting too cocky, and I wasn't keen on being rolled over so easily.
Gathering myself, fighting for strength, I looked him in the eye and put my palm on his hip. Both of us twitched at the same time. “There's just one problem,” I whispered, my tongue drawing over my bottom lip. “This mark?” I touched his hand, pushed it against my ribs and wondered if he could feel the heat of my blood. “I'm not sure it's from you. I think it belongs to Jacob.”
That day, we'd all wielded different colors in our guns. It had been a contest—whoever got the most hits would win a prize; whatever they desired.
Those two men were skilled far beyond me. My body and its bruises knew that solidly. I especially remembered the aftermath of the game. The three of us, sweating and groaning in the cool air beneath the darkening sky.
My blood roared quicker with that image.
Kite's expression shifted, brows crawling low, challenging. “You're memory needs work, Marina.” His eyes were an abyss, drawing me deeper. “This,” he growled, pushing me by my collarbone into the glass, “Is definitely from me.”
Sparks exploded in my skull. His hard muscles brushed across me, but still, his mouth hovered just out of reach. My voice was hushed. “One of us remembers wrong, then. So what do we do about that?”
“Guess I'll just make you remember.” His hand wound in my scalp, forced me to him. But, again, he kept his smirk just out of reach. I could see the flecks in his eyes, somehow darker than the rest. The edges of his teeth were sharp, waiting to dig into my skin.
My tongue took up my entire mouth. “And what if you can't?” I teased.
I wasn't ready for him to grip my bra, to rip it so hard it snapped uselessly. My gasp was muffled by his lips, but the kiss ended as fast as it had begun.
Kite held my temple to the glass, talking into my ear, nuzzling my throat. “If I can't?” His teeth lifted new goosebumps when he slid them down to my shoulder. “I'll just have to make brand new ones.”
I couldn't have looked at him with how he had me forced down, but truthfully, I think my eyes had stopped working. My lashes fluttered, blinding me and helping me sink deep into the sensations.
This man—how easily he could dive into my core and stoke the fires, like he'd done it a million times. There were so many reasons not to give in. So many reasons to push him away, or at least try to.
But I never bothered.
Call me insane. I don't care. It was true, Kite was an assassin who was perfectly capable of ending my life and erasing my existence. I had no family, no friends. No one would bother looking for me.
Of all the people to make vanish... I would be one of the easiest.
Once, I'd hoped it was the letter—the proof for the world that this man and his friend were hitmen with a history—that would keep me safe.
Now, god...
What if Kite actually wanted me alive? He'd told me before that he couldn't promise me anything. Somewhere along the line, had that changed? Or was I just being irrationally hopeful?
This wasn't the time to think about any of that. Thinking, in general, was fucking hard. He slid his palm higher, dragging the hem of my shirt over my already rock-hard nipples. I could blame the cool air, but we both knew the truth.
“Fuck,” he hissed, pushing the hand in my hair deeper. He had me pinned. “Marina, how are you always so beautiful looking?”
Blushing furiously, I tried to peer at him. Kite would have none of it, he kept me where I was with a mere tension of his forearm. “Don't say things like that.”
“What? That you're beautiful? That you're getting my cock so hard it might rip my shorts in two?”
Chewing my lip, I groaned. “Yeah, exactly that. God, you're too much. It's embarrassing.”
Chuckling, Kite kissed my jugular. “It's the truth.”
The truth. Well, he certainly made arguing difficult. The man ran his hands over my curves and tasted me so eagerly, he'd have won an Academy award if his performance was false.
A sudden, sharp suction between my breasts made me squeal. “What the hell?” I gasped, shoving against him with all my strength. He didn't budge, a living boulder while he held me where he wanted.
Glancing down, I saw the top of his head. I knew what he was doing, even before he pulled away and grinned up at me. “Well, do you remember now?”
Kite had given me a god damn hicky.
I wanted to shout, to slap him. Instead, I found myself laughing. “You asshole. All because I said the other bruise was from Jacob? I thought you guys didn't care about who did what to me.”
“I care that you remember what I do to you,” he said, finally easing his hold in my hair. My scalp tingled as he released me, standing there with a level of seriousness in his face that I hadn't expected. “Jacob and I might share you, but our experiences? The ones between you and me?” Kite's lips twitched at the corners. “Those aren't for sharing, Marina. Not at all.”
Sharing. The word was so funny. But it spoke volumes about our relationship—whatever you would even call it.
Kite and Jacob... they were friends who refused to fight over anything. Their arrangement, a thing they'd made without asking
me first, was that they both got to have me, or neither did.
The concept had blown my mind. Somehow, it was working. I believed them both; they would never fight over me. Not at all.
The issue had become less about them, and more about my feelings. As it should have, really. I mean, great for them if they weren't jealous about us all being together. But for me, coming to terms with being shared by two men? It had been terrifying.
And, I won't lie, fucking exciting.
The two of them had done things to me I'd never predicted. I kept expecting to break from it, to say they were too much. Yet... so far? Each encounter just made me ache for more.
That was the really terrifying part.
Kite filled his lungs with air. He was watching me, hands on my hips while mine hung at my sides. There was a line between us, a tangible string from my mouth towards his.
He bent to close the distance, but I beat him.
Crushing my lips on his, I coiled my arms around his bare shoulders. My thigh bumped into him, finding the hot, solid bulge of his erection. We battled the need for air, the window echoing when he bounced my spine off of it.
Finally, I broke away and stared at the fire in his eyes. “Idiot,” I said, my smile coy. “Of course I know this stupid mark is from you. As if I could forget who shot me where and when, I was doing my best to keep the tally so I could try and beat you two.”
His shock melted into amusement, eyebrows knotting. “Damn it, so you were trying to rile me up.”
Had I been? The thought gave me pause, and a confusing rush of emotions. Messing with Kite, trying to incite him... it ran counter to what was best for me.
For him...
For all of us.
Shaking myself, I went to speak—was cut off. Kite swept his tongue over mine, erased my worries. And I let him. I didn't want to think about anything serious or bad. I wanted to just forget it all, to be in the moment with this man who was a living razor blade. He could cut my throat and rip me to shreds, and still, I wanted him to hold me in his arms.
Hands rushed down my shoulders, turned me suddenly. My cheek pressed on the glass, the view stretching below me with the typical collection of cars and people. We were high up, and it made me feel like I stood on top of the world.
