To Love a Shifter: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (5 page)

I twirl my arms around his neck just as Domenico Moretti brings me close to him, his lips taking mine in an unashamedly carnal open-mouthed kiss. Our tongues touch, play, and entwine as our bodies fuse. His fingers bite into my butt as he pulls me even closer, and I groan against his mouth when I feel his erection, larger than life and pulsing like crazy. It’s unbelievably erotic.

He makes me want to forget all the rules I’ve made for myself and just have sex with him right this very minute. I’ve never felt this way before, and it’s a feeling that I don’t ever want to lose. It’s only now I understand why some women so desperately beg for a man’s touch.

I know I should struggle, pull away. That would have been the sensible thing to do, if not the right one, but I
can’t.
It’s impossible. He’s irresistible. My first taste of lust is
unquenchable
. My hands rush over him, and I can’t help but moan when I finally know how silky his hair feels like.

Domenico Moretti doesn’t stop kissing me--he’s a
master
at it, knowing exactly when to go soft and when to go deliciously rough, lips and tongue dancing in a way that makes my head swim and my body become more and more pliant in his arms. He is my sculptor, and I am his clay. The sensual spell he weaves around me is so potent I’ve gone over the edge, my thoughts turning from logical to cheesy.

A faint spell of dizziness assails me.

Mr. Moretti releases me with a muttered curse. “Breathe, Misty.”

I blink in a daze then begin inhaling huge gulps of oxygen when I realize what’s wrong with me.

Well, this is awkward.

And telling.

I actually forgot to breathe because of his kisses. When I look up, Mr. Moretti’s face is a mixture of amusement and bemusement.

“I was right,” he says, his gaze unmistakably possessive as it roams around my face. I remind myself to continue breathing when the sight of an unexpectedly tender smile touches Mr. Moretti’s lips, softening the harsh lines of his coldly beautiful face. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. None of the hundreds of photos Google has of him in its database ever showed him smiling, that’s for sure. I would have remembered it if it did.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, tracing my lips. He smiles again.

Second time in a row,
I can’t help thinking, his unabashedly sensual smile turning my thoughts into mush. The press will kill for this kind of shot.

“I need you to do something for me,” he says, his voice turning husky again.

“Y-you do?” It’s so hard to think when he’s looking at me like that and his erection is still grinding against me.

 “You’re the only one who can do this for me.”

Oh, dear. He had me at ‘you’re’. The heat of his gaze makes my panties even wetter than they already are. Shick, I’m so easy.

“I need you, Misty,” he whispers.

“For what?” I whisper back.

His eyes seek mine, blazing with life. “Say you’ll become my wife.”

          The fury
in Misty’s face only served to arouse Domenico even more. She would make a magnificent princess – and an even more magnificent queen one day. She was fire and ice – a rare and royal combination.

The sway of her hips as she pushed Domenico away and stalked out of the washroom was hypnotic. He wanted to grab her hips and keep them still long enough for him to tear her skirt out of the way, rip her panties off, and start pounding into her again and again until she was weak in his arms, begging for him to go harder and faster, begging for him to come inside her.

That she would misunderstand his attentions was something he had already anticipated. He had studied every aspect of her life carefully, had taken his time analyzing every nuance of her personality because he wanted to be sure.

His kind mated for life and though there were ways to break a bond between mates, Domenico preferred not to simply because it would have meant he had chosen wrong – and he preferred to be known as someone who always came out victorious.

I’m so angry I want to cry, throw a tantrum, and strangle Domenico Moretti all at the same time. Since I’m the lowly intern, I have to satisfy myself with leaving his fracking office with my head held high.

He catches my wrist just as I reach the doorway.

“Don’t touch me!”

He sighs – he actually sighs like I’m acting like a child. What does he expect? That I’d let him get away with his stupid little prank? I try to break free unsuccessfully. “Let me go!”

“I was hoping you won’t require proof--”

“I don’t need any kind of proof!”

“But I guess there’s no other way,” he continues, ignoring my words
and
my struggling. When I try to kick his groin, he easily avoids it and tosses me up over his shoulder.

I scream. I only stop when I remember the office is soundproofed, but I scream again when he throws me on the couch.

Staring at me, Domenico Moretti starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Oh, frack! He’s going to rape me! Wait – is it really going to be rape? Does it matter?
My thoughts are in a jumble, but I still try to run away.

He catches me even before I can take more than a step past him, tossing me back onto the couch with impressive ease. He’s down to his fifth button when I bounce back on the couch for the third time. I don’t give up trying to escape, but he never fails to get a hold of me, doesn’t even break a sweat with all the times he has to bodily carry me back to the couch. I’d be flattered – he makes me feel so ridiculously light – if I wasn’t busy panicking. I panic even more when I realize he’s down to his fancy Italian custom-designed pants.

Oh. My. God.

For one moment, I am insanely tempted.

Would it be so terrible to let him take my virginity? I’ve been saving myself this long for marriage, but maybe it’s not such a waste if my first time’s going to be with Domenico.

When his pants join his shirt on the floor, I want to groan.

Why, God? Why, why, why did you have to make someone this irresistible?
I want to weep at the sheer beauty of his body and the sheer unfairness of the situation. If only he hadn’t decided to play a prank on me. If he had just asked to have sex, maybe – maybe I would have said yes. To actually think I’d fall for his prank when he asked me to be his wife?

It’s fracking unforgivable.

When Domenico Moretti’s hands go to his briefs – black silk, although I shouldn’t have even noticed
or
cared – I recover my senses and jump off the couch. I’m thrilled when I manage to dash past him. Maybe his enormous erection got in the way.

Got to reach the door, got to--

Something heavy lands on my back, and I find myself crashing to the ground. I immediately twist around, getting ready to hit him because CEO or not, this has gone far enough. I’m going to kill him then I’m going to sue his ass for this.

A big black wolf growls into my face.

Shick!

He has a wolf in his office? Seriously, a
wolf
?

The wolf growls again, baring its razor sharp fangs this time, and I forget all about getting back at Domenico Moretti. Now, all I care about is getting out of this place alive, preferably without missing any body parts or having to be treated for rabies.

“Mr. Moretti?” I say shakily without taking my eyes away from the wolf staring at me with such intense green
--

Green?

No fracking way.

I blink. I mentally slap myself. I pray for the angels to take away the deceitful ploys of the Devil. But when I open my eyes, it’s still just me and the wolf that had green eyes like Domenico Moretti’s.

“No,” I whisper to myself, as if denying it out loud will make all of this a dream.

Incredibly, the wolf nods and slowly inches away from me. I carefully back away, too, wanting to put more distance between us, holding my breath as I do.

Resting on its haunches, the wolf locks its gaze with me again.

“Mr. Moretti?” I say for the second time, praying that somewhere in this room, I would hear a human voice answering me.

The wolf--

Sighs.

It
sighed
.

It actually
sighed
!

“It can’t be.”

The wolf’s eyes gleam, and I have a nasty feeling it’s smirking at me.

“You think this is funny?” I snap without thinking.

The wolf nods.

I close my eyes. My head starts to ache at the impossibility of it. This can’t be happening. It just can’t. When I open my eyes, I’m going to find out that Domenico Moretti’s somehow drugged me, that he actually runs a secret human trafficking joint and he’s holding an auction for me.

I open my eyes.

The wolf looks at me in pity.

I stick out my tongue without thinking.

A sound comes out of the wolf’s throat and I immediately cringe back, fearing that I’ve angered it somehow. It takes me a few moments to realize that the ferocious growls still rumbling out from the wolf sound suspiciously like
laughter.

Well, shick.

It was actually laughing at me.

Somehow, that eases my tension. I start to laugh, and part of me knows I’m becoming hysterical. The wolf howls, a distressed sound that shuts me up, saving me from a possible mental breakdown.

I wet my lips. “If you’re really Mr. Moretti…” I pause, unable to believe I’m actually saying the words. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I say, “If you’re really Mr. Moretti –
raise your left forepaw.”

The wolf snarls.

“I have to make sure!”

It stalks toward me in a steady, purposeful pace. I hold my breath as it reaches me.

Shick, shick, shick!

I squeak out, “Don’t come any--”

Closer,
I finish silently, because the wolf is already within kissing distance. It growls and I tense even more. I just know I’m going to get eaten any second now.

The wolf growls again – before raising its left forepaw to touch my cheek.

“
MR. MORETTI
?
!
”

The wolf –
Mr. Moretti
– walks away but looks back to nod at my question. I can’t help crawling after it this time, giddy at the discovery that Domenico Moretti is a werewolf, and he’s trusted me with his secret for some reason.

A
werewolf!

A real, honest-to-goodness werewolf who’s a drop dead gorgeous Italian billionaire in its human form!

I know the
sensible
thing to do here would be to run out of the room screaming and have him nabbed by the dog pound or animal control or something. Mostly, I just feel excited, so much so that my head’s in a daze. The wolf – Mr. Moretti – suddenly stops moving. It turns around to face me, startling me into falling back on my butt with wide eyes. A nervous laugh only slips past my lips when I see the discarded shirt between its teeth.

“I get it. You’re going to change--
yeargh!
” Mr. Moretti is suddenly in front of me again, dazzling as ever.

He also happens to be completely naked.

I shriek, instinctively covering my face so that I don’t embarrass myself by eye-raping him. But even with all the lust-colored thoughts going through my mind, one fact stands out from the rest.
Domenico Moretti is a werewolf.

My body starts to shake. I expected it, of course I did. I knew Mr. Moretti was the wolf – in
theory.
When I saw him change back to his human form just like that, it threw me off...to say the least. Blood rushes into my head as shock cuts off my oxygen supply. The last thing I remember is Mr. Moretti swearing as he reaches for me.

When I come around, familiar green eyes gaze down at me in concern. The memories return at lightning speed, and I sit up immediately.

“Easy there.” Mr. Moretti gently pushes me back down.

His form doubles, triples, and just keeps on multiplying in front of me. I give up and close my eyes, letting my body fall back on the bed--

Bed?

My eyes fly open. I want to fly out of the bed, too, and I would have if Mr. Moretti and his countless duplicates weren’t still swarming in front of me.

“Stay,” he says firmly, his hands pinning my shoulder blades down to the bed.

Stay? I’m not the dog here.
That’s what I want to say – or would have said if the years gone past hadn’t turned me into such a huge wimp. When you’re dirt poor, you kind of realize early on that pride’s not going to send you to bed with a full stomach.

“Where am I?” I try to keep my voice as calm as possible. I need to take a logical approach to this, and arguing with a werewolf close enough to take a bite at you is definitely the
illogical
and worst possible approach to make.

“I didn’t take you away to some secret hideaway, if that’s what’s worrying you. We’re still in my office, and you’re in my private quarters.” He gives me a glass of water, and I take it gratefully, lifting my head just enough so I can get rid of the dry and uncomfortably scratchy sensation in my throat.

“Take your time,” he murmurs as I almost gulp the glass’ entire contents down.

When he turns away to put the glass back on the bedside table, I use the time to quickly look around. Somehow, I expected something a
lot
kinkier than this cozily furnished room. It even has its own
faux
fireplace and a rocking chair. If this was an orgy house, it would seem like Mr. Moretti has a taste for cougars. The really old ones.

Past the mini living area in front of the fireplace is a breakfast counter and a small but fully-equipped kitchen. There’s even a basket of fruits on the worktable, plus a blender half-filled with some thick-looking yellow liquid.

Organic Viagra, perhaps?