Authors: Christy Gissendaner
Tags: #paranormal romance, #paranormal erotic romance, #erotic romance
Her shifter senses went on alert. Wolves. They had to be the men Drake had sent to follow her. She hadn’t realized that they would come inside the office building, but she supposed it made sense. Ignoring them, she went back to work.
The meeting concluded an hour later, and she stayed behind with Emilio to iron out the details of his article on high school football training camps. Drake’s men entered the room, and her neck prickled with uneasiness.
One of them stepped forward. “Excuse me, Ms. Proctor. May I speak to you?”
Celeste got to her feet. “I’m sorry, but I’m in a meeting right now.” She made a mental note to remind Drake to call off his hounds. “Can it wait?”
“No, I’m afraid it can’t,” said the second wolf, a blond with curious light green eyes.
Celeste sighed and turned to the sports editor. “I’ll come by your office later today, Emilio, and we’ll finish this conversation.”
He wasted no time in leaving the conference room. She didn’t blame him. The overwhelming size and intimidation of Drake’s henchmen were enough to make anybody nervous. “I thought you guys were supposed to stay out of sight? Hanging around and making my staff nervous isn’t going to get the job done.”
“I’m sorry.” Green Eyes spoke again. “But there was an incident.”
Panic gripped her. “What sort of incident?”
The first wolf, a dark-skinned man with a shaved head, grimaced. “There was an intruder at your house. Mr. Randolph thought you’d like to know.”
“My house?” She clutched her chest and struggled to regulate her breathing. “Was anything taken?”
“Not that we can tell.” The blond wolf hurried to her side. “Maybe you should sit down.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Go on. What else?”
“Another note was found,” Shaved Head added. “Mr. Randolph sent it to forensics as evidence.”
“Forensics?” Celeste widened her eyes. “Since when does Drake have access to forensics?”
The blond wolf chuckled. “He doesn’t. We do. Mr. Randolph is a close friend with our boss. We’re pulling out all the stops to find out who’s targeting you, Ms. Proctor.”
“Thank you.” A weary sigh escaped her. “Guess it was a good idea I left my house. How did they get past my security system? Typically the company calls me if there’s any activity.”
“Someone with knowledge of the system bypassed the alarms. It’s being investigated.”
Relief mingled with confusion. What sort of person wanted to harm her? First, there had been the shifter in Atlanta. Now someone was breaking into her home. It didn’t make sense. “Thank you for telling me.”
The two wolves made themselves scarce. She wanted to call Drake and get more details, but there was work to be done. She had to make it through the day, and then she’d find out all she needed to know.
CHAPTER TEN
“What the hell do you mean it’s being taken care of?” Micah gripped the phone between his fingers and growled. “How is this bastard getting away unnoticed?”
Drake’s calm, rational voice came across the line. “I’m not sure. Reed and Lance are on the case. They figure the break-in happened sometime after midnight. No damage but another note was found.”
“What did it say?” Rage fueled him. Tension tightened the muscles in his neck and shoulders.
Drake hesitated the briefest moment. “‘I won’t rest until you and the magazine are in the grave.’”
“Fucking bullshit!” Micah exploded. Max, who sat opposite him on the tour bus, looked up inquiringly. Micah ignored him and focused on the conversation with Drake. “What the fuck does this guy have against her?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. As far as we’ve been able to find, Proctor Publications has no enemies.”
“What about Celeste?” Max piped up. “Ask Drake if anyone would want to harm her.”
Micah covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Obviously someone does.”
“Just ask him,” Max continued. “There has to be someone. Maybe a spurned ex.”
Micah clenched his teeth. “Does Celeste have any ex-boyfriends who may want to harm her?”
“Not that I’m aware,” Drake answered. “As far as I know, she’s never dated anyone.”
“Except you,” Micah pointed out. The bitter acid of jealousy rose in his throat.
Drake sighed. “Micah, that’s the past.”
True, but it didn’t make it easier to swallow. “I’ll call her and try to figure it out.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Drake argued. “It would be best if I ask her.”
Damned if he would give up a chance to help. “I’ll do it.”
“If you insist,” Drake conceded. “But don’t be surprised if she won’t tell you.”
Micah scoffed. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“No one wants to tell their significant other about their sexual history. Trust me.”
“Significant other?” Micah rolled his eyes even though Drake couldn’t see the gesture. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Drake chuckled. “Look, I know you better than you think. You and Celeste always had a love-hate relationship. It’s easy for anyone to see that you’ve progressed toward more.”
“The hell you say,” Micah protested even though his brother was right. He had formed a relationship with her despite his best intentions. “Fucking is fucking.”
“Is it?” Drake made a humming noise. “Well, good luck then. Inform me if you find out anything.”
Micah disconnected the call and refused to glance at Max, who must’ve heard every word. He tossed the phone onto the cushion beside him and cursed aloud. What the hell could he do when he was in Texas, and Celeste was back home? He hated that he couldn’t do more to help, but he’d committed to his brother and his label. The tour was sold out. There was no way to duck out now.
“You and Celeste, huh? I was right,” Max said.
“Shut up,” Micah responded. “This is a serious situation.”
“Undoubtedly.” His twin stretched out on the couch, his rangy length more than taking up the short space. “You could’ve confided in me too. I possess a brain, you know.”
“Max, this isn’t the time for a pissing contest. Drake is in Savannah. We’re not. He’s the closest one to Celeste right now, and I have to make sure he has it handled. There’s nothing you can do to help.”
Max cut a sideways glance at him. “Other than give you a lead perhaps.”
“Cut the crap. You don’t have a clue. You barely even talk to Celeste.”
Max somehow managed a shrug despite his reclined, cramped position. “I like to watch people. Celeste was always in my periphery. I paid attention.”
Intrigued despite it all, Micah leaned forward. “What did you notice?”
Max swung his feet to the floor and sat up. “Do you remember Hank Dover?”
The name seemed familiar. Micah struggled to put a face to the name. “Didn’t he play football with us?”
“Yeah, he was the one who fumbled the touchdown pass in the last inning of the championship game our senior year.”
Micah grimaced. “Oh yeah. Damn that sucked.”
“He asked Celeste to the prom. When she turned him down, he didn’t take it well.”
Micah scoffed. “You think Hank waited ten years to pay Celeste back for turning him down in high school? That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Max lifted an eyebrow. “It’s more of a lead than you have, Mr. Wise Guy.”
Micah tossed a pillow at his brother’s head, which Max easily dodged. “Thanks for nothing.”
Max chuckled, but he soon sobered. “I’m serious though. I’m here if you need to talk.”
Micah hated that it took a threat to Celeste to make him and his brother bond. Despite being partners in their careers, they didn’t have half the fun they used to. “Thanks, bro. I may take you up on that.”
* * *
That night, Celeste paced the confines of her guest room, unable to sleep. Moonlight streamed through the window and highlighted the pale wooden flooring and colorful rug. The beauty of her surroundings didn’t prevent homesickness. Being trapped sucked, and she hated constantly looking over her shoulder, always wondering if someone was following her.
She moved toward the glowing screen of the laptop on the desk but changed direction at the last minute and grabbed her cell phone instead. She dialed Micah’s number and waited for him to answer. A husky, sleep-roughened voice came across the line, and she came to a complete stop in the center of the room.
“Hey,” he grumbled. “Is something wrong?”
She nibbled on the edge of her thumbnail and repressed the shivers his sexy voice gave her. She moved her thumb away and answered, “Nothing’s wrong. Not unless you count the fact that my house got broken into.”
She heard rustling and then Micah spoke again. “We’ll find him. Stop worrying. You’re safe with Drake, and he’s got Reed and Lance tailing you. No one is going to hurt you.”
Reed and Lance. It was nice to have names for the faces that had shadowed her all day long. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”
He sighed. “Does it always come down to business for you?”
“You say that as if something’s wrong with it?”
“I won’t pretend I understand, because I don’t. I bounced around from job to job until I landed on one I loved. Music wouldn’t have been my first choice. Hell, probably not even my second, but it works for me. Do I have passion for it? Sure. Does it rule my life? No. In the beginning I did this for Max. He never would’ve done it without me pushing him. But I don’t have the unbreakable need for it that you seem to have for your job.”
“It’s not only a job, Micah. It’s my name, my family’s reputation. We built our lives around Proctor Publications. I have to protect it and my employees.”
“Have you ever thought it may be personal, not business?”
She resumed pacing the floor. The floorboards were cool beneath her feet and thankfully soundproof. “Who would make it personal?”
“You tell me.”
She didn’t appreciate the thread of suspicion in his tone. “What are you asking me? Do you know something?”
He sighed. “No. It’s something Max mentioned. Do you have any ex-lovers who may have a grudge against you?”
She laughed. “Seriously? When would I have time for romance?”
Micah grew quiet for so long, she worried the connection had dropped. “Micah? You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” His voice had grown cooler. “Then we’ll assume it’s business related.”
“What else could it be?” She perched on the edge of bed. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“Doesn’t matter. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”
She toyed with the lace hem of her negligee. “Nervous about tomorrow’s show? Kansas City, right?”
Laughter floated across the line. “You’ve been checking up on me.”
“There’s a schedule posted on the fridge downstairs,” she responded automatically. That much was true, but no way was she admitting she followed the band’s schedule online. “I’m going stir-crazy here. I wish this was finished.”
“Me too.” His voice sounded weary. “I wish I was there with you.”
She sucked in a breath. Would she ever get used to him saying the words she’d dreamed about for years? “Me too.”
“What are you wearing?”
Surprise shocked her into silence, but the devil of an urge led her to answer. “Nothing. You?”
“Boxers.” More sounds of rustling and then came his whispered, “Nothing now.”
Oh God. Her panties grew damp with arousal. “Did you just take your clothes off?”
“Yeah. You should feel my cock. It’s thick and hard, wishing your pretty little mouth was here to suck it.”
Her mouth watered at the thought. “Are you touching yourself?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” He laughed, but it broke into a choked moan. “But yeah, I’m stroking my dick and thinking of your tight little pussy. God, you fuck me so good, Celeste.”
Lust poured over her in waves. Thank God she was sitting down else she’d be flat on her ass on the floor. “What should I do?”
Heavy breathing came across the line. “Touch your pussy. Finger yourself and imagine it’s me touching you. Shit, I remember how you taste. Like ripe oranges and vanilla. So sweet. So fucking sexy I can’t see straight.”
She stretched out on the bed and spread her legs. She shoved aside her panties and inserted her finger into her damp sex. “Oh,” she moaned and closed her eyes. “So good.”
“If I was there, I would eat you until you screamed my name. I’d fuck with you with my tongue for hours.” He groaned, his voice turning even rougher as he continued, “I want to savor you again.”
She wanted that too. So much it hurt. “I want to watch you masturbate. Wish I could see you come.”
“Hold one a second.”
She kept her fingers at her hole, shivers rocking her from head to toe as she did as he asked and imagined it was his hand. “Micah?”
“Give me a second.” His voice sounded distant, as if he’d moved the phone away. A couple minutes later, he returned. “OK. Check your messages.”
She’d heard the beep but had ignored it. “What is it?”
“Just check it.”
“OK. Hold on.” She moved the phone away from her ear and tapped the message icon. When a video came on the screen, she sucked in a deep breath. “Holy shit.”
She watched, wide-eyed and curious, at the grainy image of Micah jacking himself off. His cock was hard, the head thick and curved. The shaft stood at attention with a drop of precum glistening along its length where he’d massaged his fist down it. She viewed his beautiful hand moving up and down, and her pussy clenched with need. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as he came hard, thick streams of semen jetting across his flat belly. He continued to stroke his cock until he finished coming. The screen went black, and her sigh of disappointment filled the air.
She moved the phone back to her ear. “Wow.”
He chuckled. “You asked for it.”
“I wish you were here.” She spoke from the heart. “I miss you.”
“You want to fuck me.”
She closed her eyes. “That too.”
“What if I told you I was in my room at the beach house?”
She shot straight up in bed. “What?”
“Did you really think I would stay away when some fucker broke into your house? I’m not leaving, Celeste. I’ll fly out and do our shows, but I’ll come back here every night until this is over.”