My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set

by Michelle M. Pillow

  He grinned. “Want to go to my place?”

  She stole another kiss and whispered, “Definitely.”

  Chapter Eight

  This time they made it inside his condo without any interruptions. Good thing, too. He’d had more than his fair share of booty calls, but he’d never wanted anyone as urgently as he wanted this woman. It wasn’t just that Mel’s body fit perfectly in his arms or that her hungry kisses set him on fire. She fed a part of him he’d sworn had died years ago.

  In spite of her tendency toward worst-case scenarios, she didn’t live her life safe. There was a flame inside her, a rebel—and something more.

  She popped the last two buttons off his shirt. The plastic disks landed on the hardwood floor behind him, and then her top did, too. He kissed his way down her neck as her fingertips glided down his back. Her touch had him aching for more.

  He unfastened her bra, his lips trailing lower until he took her nipple into his mouth, circling the tip with his tongue. She gripped his ass tighter, and he rocked his hips against her, his erection making it plain how much he wanted her. Moving to the other nipple, he teased her with his teeth until she gasped his name. It had never sounded sexier.

  Shit. He needed her. Now.

  He claimed her lips again and scooped her up into his arms. She laughed into the kiss as he carried her to his dark bedroom. He laid her on the bed, whispering, “We have way too many clothes on.”

  She caught his bottom lip in her teeth. “Couldn’t agree more.”

  He needed her naked before he came with his pants still on. His lips trailed down her chest tasting her skin as he popped the button on her jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. Her fingers tightened in his hair, encouraging him lower. He’d never been more eager.

  Desire burned like fire in his veins. He wanted to explore every part of her body, to hear her call out his name, and make her his. Most of all, he wanted to lose himself, to drown in their passion in this moment. No tomorrow. Just now.

  He tugged her pants off and knelt beside the bed before pulling her down to him, resting her knees over each of his shoulders. The inside of her thighs were soft against his face, reminding him that he should have shaved, but in a million years he hadn’t guessed he’d be right here tonight.

  He nibbled his way up her inner thigh and slowly licked her opening. Her hands tugged at his hair as her hips writhed under him. He hummed and explored her with his tongue, enjoying the way she moved against him. If he didn’t get his damn pants off soon, though, he was going to bust through the damned zipper. And once he discovered her sweet spot, he teased it mercilessly with his tongue while he used his hands to get free of his slacks.

  She cried out, “Don’t stop!”

  Not a chance. He slid a finger inside her, and another, and suddenly her thighs tightened around his head, her entire body trembling. He slowed his attention until the aftershocks diminished. While she struggled to catch her breath, he kissed his way back up her body.

  She tugged gently at his hair, pulling him up to her. “Hope you don’t think I’m finished with you yet.”

  In the dim light filtering in from the hallway, she nibbled at his neck, whispering against his skin. “Probably should have asked you earlier…”

  “Condoms in the nightstand.”

  She nipped at his shoulder. “I’ll get it.”

  As she reached for the bedside lamp, he caught her hand. “Let me.”

  While he opened the drawer, she ran her fingers all the way down his body, stroking his erection until he groaned, his hips working into her rhythm.

  She smiled, licking his nipple hard and slow. “Distracted?”

  He groaned in answer, his hand still searching the drawer. “You do make it tough to concentrate.”

  “Good.” She stroked him a little faster.

  He tore open the plastic, and now it was her turn to stop him. “Let me.” She unrolled the condom over his pulsing shaft and kissed his lips.

  He gripped her hips tightly. “I need you,” he whispered, and her heart pounded in answer.

  She rose up over him and slowly settled onto his erection, moaning as each inch of him filled her, enjoying every second.

  “Made for me,” he growled beneath her.

  Mel rested a hand on either side of his head, slowly grinding her hips against his. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  His hands moved up her back, pulling her close to him. She moaned as her breasts pressed against this bare chest. He rolled her over working his hips into her faster, harder. Her nails dug into his back as their tongues tangled, wrestling almost as urgently as their bodies.

  He gasped between urgent kisses. “Can’t…get…close…enough.”

  She clung to him as he slid his hand between them, rubbing her with every thrust. “Come with me.”

  Mel trembled in his arms as her muscles tightened around him, peaking as he slammed into her deeper. He called her name and froze, his orgasm claiming his body.

  Finally, he kissed her lips, tender, slow, and lingering as the aftershocks swept through them. “Give me a second,” he whispered.

  He got up, slowly separating their bodies and stepped into the bathroom. A minute later he was beside her in the bed. She rested her head on his chest, taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart. He kissed her hair. “That was…”

  “Amazing.”

  He chuckled. “Glad you agree.”

  Her entire body was relaxed, and being in his arms made it easy to hide from the loss of Nia and the danger lurking around her and her sisters. Her eyes drifted closed and suddenly popped open again. “Do you need to take me back to Callie’s place?”

  His fingers stopped their lazy circles on her back. “I can if you want to go back there.”

  She lifted her head to try to see his face in the dim light. “She knows I’m with you. I just thought…”

  “What John said was true.” He sighed. “I don’t believe in relationships, so if it’s easier to go…”

  The muse inside of her ached for tragedy, to swing into action and yank her clothes on while she stormed out the door; but for once, she shut it out and kissed him. Her lips lingered on his, and finally, she whispered, “I’ll stay if you want me to.”

  Nate stared up into her eyes without saying a word. Maybe she misread him and he’d been trying to get her to agree to leave, but she swore his body language was telling her to sleep over.

  He reached up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek. “Stay.”

  She searched his eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded slowly as his lips started to curve. “I’m not through with you yet.”

  Mel gasped, her eyes popping open. How many times would her dreams be haunted by Nia being shoved down the stairs? She didn’t have any tears left to cry, but that didn’t seem to stop the nightmares.

  She stretched, her body deliciously sore all over, and turned to find Nate still snoozing. He was on his back with one arm covering his eyes and the sheet lying over his waist like a loincloth. The scar on his bicep caught her eye. She kissed it gently, but as she pulled back, her smile faded.

  Wiping her eyes, she scanned his torso again. In the stark morning sunlight, she counted eight round burns spread randomly across his chest. Farther down his abdomen was an ugly scar—definitely not the precision of a surgeon. Her chest constricted as she stared at his sleeping face. Who did this to him?

  She rested her head over his heart, and he stirred, lowering his arm to hold her close. Suddenly, he flinched, wide-awake.

  “Shit. Sorry.” He shook his head.

  “Not used to waking up with company?”

  He chuckled, kissing her hair. “Something like that.”

  She ran her hand up his chest, over three of the burns. Was this why he’d left the lights off last night? Was he sensitive about them?

  He twisted to see the clock. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah.” She sat up.
“Do you have time to eat before you go to work?”

  He nodded. “I brought work home with me. What about you?”

  “It’s Saturday. No school.” She offered a halfhearted cheer and a fist pump.

  Nate laughed. “Now that’s some tragic cheering.”

  “I aim to please.” She leaned over to kiss his forehead. “I don’t have my toothbrush or clean clothes or…well, anything.”

  “Tell you what.” He sat up beside her. “If you’ll start breakfast, I’ll run to the store and grab some toiletries for you. Can you cook?”

  Mel smiled. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

  “Perfect.” He got out of bed, exposing a few scars on his back and legs, too. He pulled on some sweatpants and a T-shirt and stepped into the bathroom.

  Mel wandered over to his closet and selected a black dress shirt for her morning ensemble. She had it almost buttoned all the way when Nate came out of the bathroom and froze.

  She cringed. “Do you have a thing about someone wearing your clothes? Sorry. I should have asked first.”

  “No, it’s not that.” He swallowed and shook his head as a crooked smile crept onto his face. “If this is your ploy to get me back here fast, it’s definitely going to work.” He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, one hand sliding up her leg and under the shirt to cup her ass. “You are so sexy.”

  Mel grinned. “If I didn’t have morning breath, I’d kiss you.”

  He laughed, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’ll be right back.” As he headed to the door, he called over his shoulder, “And I’ll be collecting that kiss.”

  Mel wandered into his kitchen and opened the fridge. Food, or lack thereof, could tell you a lot about a person. He had the typical “man staples”—bacon, milk, eggs, a hunk of cheddar cheese, a little bit of butter—but the bottom shelf made her laugh. There was an open package of sour gummy worms. Cute.

  She took out the eggs and bacon and went to work. When Nate came through the front door twenty minutes later, the bacon was almost done and she was whipping up the scrambled eggs.

  He put a shopping bag on the counter and grinned. “Smells like heaven in here.”

  “Why, thank you.” She poured the eggs into the frying pan and handed him a spatula. “Can you cook these while I clean up?”

  He took the spatula and smiled, and she headed for the bedroom, only stopping once to see if he was watching her ass wiggle under his shirt.

  He chuckled. “I’d have to be dead not to look.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re in good health.” She grinned.

  When she met him at the table not long after, he collected on the kiss and took a few more on credit. Then she munched on some bacon while he explained the list he’d be scouring for partial plates of silver Honda Accords owned by Lewis Gold.

  “Hopefully I’ll find something, but if I were paying off a dockworker to bring in explosives, I’d give him a fake name.”

  “Did you check to see if Belkin Oil employs a Lewis Gold?”

  “John’s handling that part.” He polished off his eggs and took the plates to the sink.

  He rinsed them off and put them in the dishwasher while Mel tried to figure out how to broach the subject of the scars. Would he be angry if she mentioned them? He had to know she saw them when he was getting dressed today. Maybe they were no big deal.

  “You didn’t tell me you have so many scars in addition to the gunshot to your bicep.”

  Oh very smooth. She refrained from smacking her own forehead.

  He closed the dishwasher and stared into the sink. “No, I didn’t.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  Nate sat down beside her. “I’m some Guardian, right?”

  At least he was still talking and not rushing her out the door. “Maybe I should’ve told you why I find scars sexy.”

  “Because most of them are the result of a tragedy?”

  “Touché.” She chuckled. “But no.” She rolled up her sleeve, exposing a scar on her elbow. “I got this running to elementary school. I was going to be late and I freaked, and in my rush, I fell and skidded into school. After it healed and the scab came off, I had this scar and constantly whined to my dad that it was ugly.” She lowered her arm. “He told me that I should be proud because scars mean you took a risk and you survived. I think they’re sexy because they show you’re a survivor.”

  He got up and crossed to the kitchen window, resting his forearm on the sill above his head. Her stomach twisted. She probably pushed too hard. He’d said he didn’t believe in relationships, and maybe this was part of it—real intimacy and vulnerability.

  She was getting sick of maybes.

  “My dad was an alcoholic.” His voice was quiet. “He and my mom fought all the time. I’d get in the middle to try to protect her and he’d beat me…or burn me. He said the burns would leave a mark to remind me that I was nothing.”

  For a second, her heart clenched. Tears welled in her eyes. “Your dad was full of shit.”

  He chuckled but didn’t turn around. “Yeah.”

  She got up and stood behind him, sliding her arms around his waist. “I’m not sure what to say, so this is me trying to tell you I don’t care about those scars. They don’t mark you as anything but strong in my eyes.”

  He slowly turned around and held her tight, leaning his cheek on top of her head. His voice was deep and rough. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  She smiled against his chest. “You’re not the first to tell me that.”

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” He stepped back and tipped her chin up until she met his eyes. “That wasn’t a glass-half-empty compliment.” He glanced out the window, swallowed, and pulled his gaze back to her face. “It’s seriously scaring me shitless how much I like spending time with you, even outside the bedroom.”

  Her heart pounded, but the tenuous honesty, the fear in his voice, made it clear he was trying not to run. If she wasn’t careful, he’d be out the door.

  She rose on her tiptoes and brushed a slow kiss to his lips. “This doesn’t have to be a relationship, okay? Just let me be your muse.”

  He bent to taste her again and smiled. “And I’ll be your Guardian.”

  And for now, that was enough.

  Chapter Nine

  Ted Belkin stared out at the bay from his high-rise office window, seething.

  Marion opened the door behind him. “Ben is here, Mr. Belkin.”

  “Send him in.”

  Footsteps and then the couch cushion sighed. Once the door closed, Ted spun around, his voice a viper’s whisper. “A police detective was here this morning. In my office. Because of your incompetence.”

  Ben didn’t even have the decency to look guilty, the bastard.

  “I gave the dockworker a false name. They won’t be able to connect me or the explosives to Belkin Oil directly.”

  Ted smacked the engraved pen set on his desk, sending it careening across the room. It crashed into the wall, and Ben flinched. ’Bout damned time. Ted narrowed his eyes. “You think you have my father’s support, but I’m blood. Not you. It’ll take more than pushing a muse down a flight of stairs to get him to cover your ass with the police.”

  Ben crossed his legs, his cool demeanor back in place. “Last time I checked, you brought me into the Order. If I go down and the Order is exposed, I think the responsibility falls to your shoulders, am I right?”

  Ted clenched his fists. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

  “No.” Ben opened his hands. “Should I?”

  Ted huffed out a breath and sat behind his desk. “You better hope the police don’t find out your real name.”

  “If they do, you’ll need to call in some favors with your elected officials or get your own hands dirty to complete the mission yourself. That doesn’t really seem like your style, though, does it?” Ben stood. “Are we finished here?”

  Ted glared up at
him. “Treading on thin ice here, Ben. You’re not the only person who wants to bring back the Golden Age of Man.”

  He stopped at the door and turned back. “No, but I am the one who can get it done.”

  Mel waved good-bye as Nate drove down Callie’s street. She’d spent the morning helping him comb through the DMV records, but there was no sign of a Lewis Gold connected to a Honda Accord with the first three digits of the license plate he’d seen in the theater parking lot.

  Another dead end.

  She would’ve been fine spending the rest of the day with him, but he had a “thing” in the afternoon. Vague…

  She knew one hot night together didn’t make them a couple, but that didn’t quiet the curiosity. He’d been pretty clear about his no-relationship boundary. There was no one to blame but herself if she let it bug her. The scars inflicted by his father obviously went much deeper than his skin.

  “There you are!”

  Mel turned, trying not to look guilty for missing curfew. Callie wasn’t her mother.

  But still.

  “Hey. Sorry I didn’t call, but…”

  “So spill.” Her dark eyes sparkled. “How was sex with your Guardian?”

  Mel raised a brow, biting back a smile. “Wow. You’ve had a sudden change of heart.”

  “Not really.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m still honoring the pact, but you seem dead set on breaking it so the least you can do is let me live vicariously through you.”

  Laughter bubbled up—she couldn’t help it. “Without giving you any graphic details, my Guardian rocks in the sack.” Mel nodded slowly, her mind replaying the way he put her legs over his shoulders and pulled her down the bed. She cleared her throat. “But there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “That’s all I get?”

  Mel grinned. “Yep.”

  “Thanks for nothing. Looks like I won’t be doing much living through you.” She tangled her fingers in the back of her short hair. “What did you need?”