Her UnBearable Protector (Paranormal Bearshifter Romance) Howls Romance

by Reina Torres

  He shrugged, his broad muscular shoulders making the simple movement into a grander gesture. “I found the napkins in a drawer.”

  “Huh,” Natale smoothed her hands over the soft cotton, “I didn’t even know I had these.”

  Salvatore poured her a glass of wine and watched her take the first bite of the meal he’d made for her. A few delicate chews and then she stopped, her face turning slightly before she took another bite. Just when he was afraid that he’d done something wrong in preparing the meal she sighed… no, she moaned.

  Her eyes closed for a moment and she took in a deep breath over her plate. When she sat back in her chair she looked straight into his eyes. “It’s delicious!”

  His bear rolled happily inside of him, curling up as close to Natale as he could get. And Salvatore watched as she continued to eat through the plate from the salmon with a honeyed sauce and the lightly blanched and seasoned veggies.

  Their conversation flowed easily as he asked her about her work and she told him of her vision as a designer and why they’d started to have trouble. “My father felt like he’d said all he’d needed to in fashion. He felt he was out of touch with today’s woman and wanted someone to take Durante in a new direction. Both Caprice and I put together capsule collections to show him our vision.”

  “You’re talented.” He saw the shock in her expression. “I don’t understand fashion. I’m at the mercy of my tailor to make sure I don’t embarrass my brothers, but when I see the models wearing your clothes, they really love what they’re wearing. They feel confident.”

  He saw tears glistening in her eyes. “Thank you. That’s a very sweet thing to say.”

  “It’s the truth, Natale. One has only to look at their expressions, the ease of their posture, the joy in their movements. You don’t cover them up, you enhance their bodies.”

  “Not everyone feels the same way,” she let out a long sigh and picked up her napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes. “It’s hard to hear designers that you’ve worked with and admired, talking about you like you’ve lost your mind.” She took a sip of her wine. “I completely understand their reservations. Fashions for years and years have been suited to a standard of beauty based on women who are thin, the thinner the better. Little girls read the fashion magazines and they dream it will be them on those pages someday.”

  “Did you want to model?”

  She blushed and he wanted to taste the heat from her skin.

  “No, not me.” She touched her napkin to the corner of her mouth and smiled. “I take after my mother in size and I knew from early on that the fashions in the Durante House lines were made for other women. And yet, my mother was always impeccably dressed and held herself with such poise. I knew I wanted to dress like she did, but I never saw her shopping for clothes. So, while she made these amazing couture garments for shows and the retail lines, she would hide away at night and make her own garments.

  “That she felt she had to hide when she made her own clothes seemed like such a crime.” Natale set down her fork and took another small sip of wine. “I wanted to bring it all out into the light. No woman should have to hide her beauty behind closed doors, nor should she have to wear a long sheath, almost a tent-like dress, and think that’s all there is.”

  “Why do the others care so much?” His plate was nearly untouched. Salvatore was hungry, but his first concern was Natale, he would always take care of her first. “Why would they care what you design?”

  “Fashion should be progressive, they say. The phrase ‘fashion forward’ is always bandied about, but what they mean is if you’re thinking in ‘their’ direction. Fortunes are made and lost on a collection and setting a trend. They don’t want what I have to offer.” She gave him a sad little smile. “Durante is a well-respected house, one of the five oldest in Italy. I think they’d rather we wallow in mediocrity until the whole company falls into obscurity.” She sighed. “They don’t see that making a collection of clothes that’s meant for everyone’s form and proportions is a good thing, widening the audience for fashion. They say that I’m lowering the standard of fashion. I’m just changing the shape.”

  He could see how much her thoughts were weighing on her and there was no use to continue going over it more at the moment. Once she’d spoken of the issues, the smile had faded from her lips and the corners of her eyes were tight and drawn.

  His bear, was upset, at him. And even without words, Salvatore understood the message pushing into his thoughts.

  Woo her, now.

  Salvatore knew it wasn’t the time, but his bear certainly had a one-track mind.

  Then she yawned, stifling it behind her hand with a soft chuckle. “Sorry, we’ve been working twelve to fifteen hour days.” Her shoulders sagged a bit. “So, I’m a little tired.”

  His response was obvious and immediate. “Then you should sleep, Natale. I’ll have Uberto come in the morning to review the information your father is preparing for us.”

  She nodded and got up from the table, reaching for her plate. He covered her hand with his and saw the startled look in her eyes. “Leave the dishes, I have them.”

  Natale blinked up at him. “You weren’t hired to do my dishes.”

  He shrugged off the comment. “Go, get in bed, and I’ll sleep in one of the other bedrooms.”

  She winced, her teeth clenched together. “There really isn’t another bedroom besides mine.”

  His gaze narrowed in confusion. “The plans for your apartment,” he could see her shock that he’d checked on the layout of the apartment, “showed three bedrooms.”

  “Three, yes,” she smiled and Salvatore struggled with the urge to pull her into his arms. It wasn't just his urge after all. It was his bear, as well. His bear wanted Natale. Wanted her naked and willing under him, over him, wrapped in his arms. But based on the look she was currently throwing in his direction, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

  He was thankful that Natale couldn't hear his thoughts. She was too busy trying to explain herself to care. “It was built with three bedrooms, but I needed room for my design library and sewing machines,” she gave him a smile and nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment, “and my fabric. Remember while you were checking the rooms, you didn’t see beds in there, right?”

  He nodded, but his focus was the pale line along her lip where her teeth had pressed into the full flesh, and it wasn’t just his bear that wanted to touch. He wanted to nibble on her lip, roll the flesh between his teeth, soothe the sting with his tongue.

  He almost missed the fact that she was still talking.

  “… I can get you a hotel room nearby-”

  He didn’t think about a reaction, he just moved. A heartbeat later he was touching her, hands on her shoulders, his eyes searching her stunned expression.

  “I'm staying here with you, Natale.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He could feel her breathe as if his lungs were the same as hers, connected somehow. It wasn't the only thing that he could feel. He was sure, deep in his chest where his heart beat out a frantic rhythm, that Natale Durante was his mate. The mate that he'd traveled through three countries to find.

  He watched her blink back at him, and then nod. A slight bob of movement as she swallowed, and his eyes went straight to the pulse that throbbed just beneath her skin. And then the pale perfection of her flesh where her shoulder met the untouched column of her neck.

  He licked his lips, almost tasting the sweet flavor of her skin, and his bear pushed forward, demanding a taste like a midnight snack.

  “Fine.”

  Her tone was slightly sharp, but he heard the breathy tone in her voice, felt the heat rising from her skin.

  “You can stay here, but I’m the only one sleeping in my room.”

  There was hesitation in her voice and he remembered her conversation with her assistant. Had Natale been joking about her interest in him? He felt a shove from within. His bear was upset, trying to move
him to act and convince her to keep him closer. He knew he wouldn’t be able to push her into changing her mind and he didn’t want to. He’d take the time to seduce his mate, to have her wanting him close.

  Tonight she was tired, her life was changing in ways she’d never considered before, and he was going to let her have her space.

  Salvatore tugged her closer for a moment, felt the tension in her body. She was waiting to see what he was going to do. He didn’t feel fear radiating from her, but he had to be careful. She had to trust him, or this wouldn’t work.

  And he needed it to work, because he needed to save her life. He moved closer and leaned down until his lips pressed against her forehead.

  It was heaven. The heat of her body flared to match his as she leaned into his touch. If he’d had any doubt of what lay between them it was gone. His bear rose up in his consciousness, standing on his hind legs to look through Salvatore’s eyes and when he moved back from her he had to fight his bear to back down as well.

  “Go,” he managed a single word, but knew that most of the voice that rumbled from his mouth was the bear.

  She stepped back, stumbled a step by the door, her eyes still on him. He saw shoulders rise and fall, her breaths quick, her skin flushed, and he reveled in it like sunshine. She may not want his help, but she wanted him.

  And that was as good a place to start as any.

  Chapter Four

  Natale was up before the sun. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, it was a habit she’d developed over the years. In design school the early morning hours were the perfect time to get into the sewing room, especially if you needed to use the washer and dryer. She set her alarm as a precaution every night, but even when she’d only had a few hours of sleep the night before, she would wake up with the birds.

  The next morning was no exception. Rolling onto her back, Natale yawned and stared up at the molding around the edge of her ceiling. She was fairly sure the day before had actually happened. It wouldn’t have surprised her if it had all been a dream, because the very idea that a gorgeous guy was sleeping on her couch did seem more than a dream than reality.

  Turning on her side, Natale grabbed up an armload of her blankets and hugged it tightly. It was a poor substitute for Salvatore, but this was much safer for her sanity. As she closed her eyes, she remembered her dinner the night before. Having him cook for her was amazing. She had no idea that food that tasty could actually be made in her kitchen! It was, to say the least, a revelation. Salmon and vegetables had never tasted so good, and she’d finished with a stomach full of gratitude for Salvatore, who had gone above and beyond the bodyguard job description.

  But what had her mind whirling, and her head dizzy, even though she was lying down, was the fact that during their dinner, they had talked to each other. And they had listened to each other.

  Natale loved her father dearly. He had been her rock for so many years, but listening wasn’t something he did well. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. Natale could see the love in his eyes and when he spent time with her during the design process, or in the workroom, she felt his love like sunshine.

  Salvatore listened. He asked her intelligent, interesting questions, and then he cared about the answer. It was strange. With Salvatore she didn’t feel awkward when she spoke, and she wasn’t struggling to come up with something to say. To make matters better and worse, she found that she could tease him. She could be sassy and silly and not feel like she was making a fool of herself.

  With Salvatore, she could just be herself.

  It was an addictive feeling.

  Oh, who was she kidding?

  He was addictive. In just a few hours of knowing him, he’d surprised her in so many ways. What was she going to do when he left, she wondered? He said that they were meant to be together, but really, how could he know?

  Turning onto her back again she laid a forearm over her eyes and groaned. If someone had described the situation to her the day before she would have called it Folie a Deux. But it wasn’t that complicated.

  She knew the answer. Salvatore was a romantic at heart. You could take the tall, dark, crazy-sexy man from Italy, but he’d always carry that overwhelming machismo and passionate heart that made Italian men so delicious. Once this was over and he moved on to his next assignment he’d forget about her.

  The trouble was, Natale knew he’d made his way into her head and her heart, and she knew that she’d never be able to get over him. He was too deep inside of her skin, deep down in the center of her chest where her heart beat a punishing rhythm.

  The doorbell sounded, reaching Natale in her bedroom. The loud jolting sound was going to wake Salvatore, she was sure of it. She really wasn’t in a hurry to throw on her robe and shuffle to the door.

  But, the doorbell wouldn’t stop. Natale rolled onto her side and blinked at the clock. She didn’t see the numbers clearly through her bleary eyes, but she could see the light outside of her window, and there was barely a haze of light in the sky. It was way too early for someone to be there to see her.

  And still the doorbell continued.

  She was only mildly happy that her only neighbor’s door was at the far end of the hall and he wouldn’t hear a thing, but she was going to have to kill someone if there wasn’t someone already bleeding in the hallway.

  Throwing back her blanket, she swung her legs over the edge. She didn’t bother with any slippers, setting her feet on the floor. A moment later she left her bedroom, making a beeline for the door. Self-preservation reigned supreme and she leaned forward to look out of the peephole. And she’d be damned if it didn’t seem like the man outside was looking right back. When he stepped back from the door she got a chance to look at him. It was his suit that first caught her eye, she could recognize style anywhere and she knew at a glance that the same tailor that made Salvatore’s suit had made this one. Looking up at his face, she couldn’t deny the family resemblance. The mustache and beard were a bit lighter in thickness, but the intense features and the shape of his face marked him as one of the younger Orsino brothers.

  Opening the set of locks on the door she pulled it open with a sigh. “Good morning, Mr. Orsino.”

  His smile was quicker than his brother’s and held a boyish twist at the corner. “Good morning, Miss Durante. How-”

  She shrugged. “DNA doesn’t lie, and your parents must have been gorgeous.”

  “Gracie, Miss Durante.” Leaning closer, his hand braced on the door frame above her head and she caught scent of his cologne, a subtle but well blended scent. “Is my brother available?”

  “Your brother,” a voice rumbled from the room behind her, sending a shiver down her spine, “is waiting for you to show some respect.”

  Natale turned a bit to the side so that she cleared the doorway.

  Her new ‘guest’ stepped up beside her, his hand still on the doorframe above her head, almost leaning against her shoulder. “I’m perfectly respectful, brother, but you on the other hand, should take a look in the mirror.” A heartbeat later he held out his free hand. “I would think twice before you stand up, ‘Tore.”

  “Just get inside and close the door.”

  More than a little frustrated with his grumpy tone, Natale turned to give him a piece of her mind and promptly lost it again. “Goodness!” She leaned her head back against the wall. “Will you please put some clothes on?”

  She forced her eyes away from him, darting it down to the floor, struggling to ignore the expanse of bare skin that was laid out on her couch, draped… barely draped in a blanket so thin, it was probably one of her extra sheets from the linen closet.

  “What did you do with your shirt?” She winced at the sharp tone of her voice and resisted the urge to fan herself with her hand.

  Salvatore grabbed a hold of the back of the couch and sat up against the arm. Tilting his head toward the small dining set behind him he yawned. “On the chair.”

  Natale leaned to the side and squinted at the clothing l
aid over the back of the chair, she saw the shirt and the suitcoat and another garment laid underneath them. She looked at the lines of the garment and as realization dawned on her she felt her cheeks heat up. “Are those your pants?”

  She winced at the sound of her voice, nearly half an octave higher than it normally was.

  He certainly didn’t look shocked at her question.

  But if there was one way to describe his grin, she would say he was cocksure.

  When he opened his mouth, he proved her right.

  “This is how I sleep.”

  “On my couch?”

  He stretched, arching his back, only to have the blanket slip down and pool around his hips. “I would have slept with you if you’d let me.”

  She heard his brother’s laugh in her ear and tensed instinctively. She’d forgotten that Salvatore’s brother was standing beside her.

  “I’m not discussing this in my living room, in front of your brother.”

  Sliding his hand down over his face, Salvatore gave her a long look from head to toe, his eyes darkening in that strange way of his, and she swore that he was trying to make her feel uncomfortable.

  And he was doing a great job of it.

  His grin stretched as slowly as he moved his hand over his beard. “Would you like to discuss it in your bedroom?”

  When she didn’t answer him he began to move, dropping one leg and then the other over the side of the couch and onto the floor. She watched in rapt attention as he continued to move, struggling to wake up. The short length of hair at the top of his head was sleep-tousled and the man obviously spent some time without his shirt on in the sun, because every inch of his torso and arms were a deep rich caramel, like the kind she loved to pour on her sundaes. And there would be plenty to pour it on from his pec muscles, his insane set of abs, and as he turned she caught sight of his back with its long bands of muscles. She knew she was staring, but how could she help it? She had eyes and a healthy interest in men, just not a lot of opportunities to view someone as impressive as Salvatore.