Shifting the Night Away (5 page)

Chapter Twelve

William and Lance lay there, still wrapped around each other. Lance didn't pull away or recoil and he wasn't traumatized from what William could gather. He knew he was his. They made small talk, going over little pieces of their lives. Favorite colors and foods, pets they'd had as a child, and hit upon future plans.

"So where do you see us in a few years, William?" he asked.
 

"Married perhaps now that it's legal, somewhere far away from here, out of the public eye." He spoke as his fingertips laced through Lance's hand that he held above his face. He kissed each fingertip of his before letting go and doing it all again.

"I don't know if I'm marriage material yet," he cocked an eyebrow and propped up on an elbow to talk to him, "besides we're a long ways off from proposals and such."

"I know, we're going to take this slow, I promise," he assured him, "nothing that you're not totally comfortable with."

He winced when he said it, an action that did not go unnoticed.

"Are you ok? Something hurt?"

"Yea, I'm fine, it's just that..." he trailed off, looked out the window, then back into her face as he finished, "I probably need to tell you about my ex-wife."

"You were married before?"

"I wasn't always into men."

Of course
, he thought,
he's a celebrity billionaire psychotherapist, he's probably got kids out there somewhere and a trophy wife that gets half his earnings.

"Yea, she's...," William didn't know quite where to begin, "well it's a story for another day."

"I can see there's always going to be something to learn about you, William," he laughed, "good thing I love you."

"I love you too, Lance."

About the Author - Artemis Wolffe

Artemis Wolffe has always been fascinated by strong men, alpha personalities, and hot encounters. Being born in hills of Appalachia, he knows his way around panthers, bears, and wolves.

While he loves to write about his deepest desires, he is at heart, a romantic. There may be beastly men in his tales, but they know what they want and aren't afraid to go after it with style and grace.

All of Artemis Wolffe's work is available on Amazon's Kindle Unlimited platform.

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About the Author - Wednesday Raven

Wednesday Raven loves to write about gothic shifters and sweet love stories. Her passion for writing was instilled at a young age and now it's her life's work. Come inside her pages and see what stories she has to tell you.

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Billionaire Alpha Seeks Curves

By

Cynthia Fox
 

Chapter One

"She’s too thin."

"What?
 
She’s beautiful, Mr. Zelnick.
 
You asked me to find models."

"I never said she wasn’t beautiful.
 
I just need more of her.
 
You know, more of a shape," he said as he curved his hands along an imaginary hourglass.

"But, they will be modeling lingerie and frilly dresses.
 
Why don’t you choose a few from these photos and I’ll…"

He looked up from the pile of modeling cards and sighed.
 
"When I’m driving my Porsche, do you think I have more fun on the straightaways or the curves?"

"Probably the curves."

"That’s right.
 
And what’s the name of the line?"

She cleared her throat and said, "Curves and Lace."

"Now please do as I ask, Daphne.
 
This is a new division for us and I want it to be a success."

"Yes, sir," she said as she exited the office.

Peter Zelnick flipped through the stacks of photos on his desk, staring at the sunken cheeks and bony hips Daphne had selected for the upcoming campaign.
 
What was she thinking?
 
These models would be fine for the sportswear ads, but not for this project.
 
He’d waited years to start Curves and Lace and he was going to get everything he wanted, right down to the shapely models he hoped would feel empowered and sexy in his beautiful garments.
 
Daphne Kohl came with the company.
 
Her father was his old business partner and he would only relinquish control if she was able to remain gainfully employed.
 
She had a trust fund waiting for her, but Mr. Kohl was old school and wanted her to understand the importance of hard work, a philosophy Peter firmly believed in.
 
She was a sweet kid, but a little clueless at times.
 
Growing up in Manhattan surrounded by the waifish, upper crust of society, Daphne had a certain image in mind when it came to the definition of "sexy."

Peter, on the other hand, appreciated the curves of a feminine body.
 
He ached for the welcoming embrace of a plentiful bosom and full hips.
 
The strength of a sculpted calve muscle or the silky skin on the back of a soft thigh sent his hormones into hyper-drive.
 
It wasn’t just the man in him who craved these delicious, feminine traits.
 
The wolf inside also had a weakness for curves that sometimes made it difficult for human restraint.
 
He was able to temper his wolfish desires by expending his energy with weightlifting and lengthy runs through Central Park.
 
The resulting human form was chiseled to perfection, bringing admirers from the most successful families in all of New York.
 
He could have had his pick of the crop, but nothing felt right.
 
Occasionally he would succumb to desire and have a brief fling, but he felt like a prick giving the "it’s not you, it’s me" speech to the smitten females.
 
The exercise was safer and easier in the long run.
 
If only he could find a strong mate.
 
One who was independent and driven, but kind and quick to smile.
 
A woman who loved her life as it was and didn’t need improving, but wanted to share her years with a fellow explorer.
 
Add curves and he’d be in heaven.

He turned his chair towards the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding his office and stared down at the green trees blanketing the park.
 
His penthouse at the top had an even better view from the outdoor garden.
 
He’d brought in tons of greenery to mimic the park below for those nights when he needed to soak in the outdoors in wolf form, but the crowds prevented a public outing.
 
Peter knew he was one of the lucky ones.
 
Very few people had access to views like this, but he’d worked hard his entire life and earned every penny of his fortune.
 
He lied about his age and started working in a factory for Kohl Manufacturing when he was just sixteen.
 
His work ethic impressed the elder Mr. Kohl and earned him quick promotions and a fast friendship with the younger Kohl, Daphne’s father.
 
It was Peter’s experience living in the Artic with his shifter tribe that helped Kohl Manufacturing rise to the top with its line of winter clothing and jackets.
 
His designs couldn’t be beat and were soon worn by adventurers the world over.
 
No one could understand how this kid, who supposedly came from Connecticut, had such a great understanding of extreme weather conditions.

Saying he was from Connecticut was easier than explaining that your family had sent you away to avoid the encroaching oil industry and they were depending on you for survival.
 
Luckily for them, he was plucky enough to succeed and relocated the tribe to the Lake Cayuga region of New York where they could thrive.
 
He tried to move them closer to Manhattan, but city living wasn’t for them.
 
His mother wanted him to join them in the countryside, convinced he would have better luck finding a mate away from the hustle and bustle.
 
He was beginning to think she was right.
 
Starting Curves and Lace would hopefully bring the right one to him.
 
That was the plan, anyway.

Peter decided to take a long stroll and partake in some people watching.
 
He usually cut through the park, but something told him to head uptown and explore a new neighborhood.
 
He walked past the pre-war buildings lining Central Park West and nodded at the doormen waiting to open taxi doors and hold armfuls of shopping bags.
 
He cut across to Amsterdam Avenue and grabbed a hot dog from a vendor, walking as he chewed.
 
Each block had its own soundtrack and scents, reflecting the energy of the residents.
 
It made him feel like an urban anthropologist as he made up imaginary biographies for every person he passed.
 
He watched a man on rollerblades grab onto the back of a taxi and coast down the street at high rates of speed without a trace of fear.
 
Neighbors sat on stoops sharing laughs and the latest gossip.
 
There was no shortage of entertainment on these streets.
 
He made a mental note to search the real estate listings for the area and add to his substantial holdings throughout the city.

As he approached a street corner, his ears perked up and twitched as if they had picked up a secret frequency.
 
He closed his eyes to direct more energy to his sense of hearing, a trick his mother had taught him, and zoned in on the source that seemed to be only a few blocks away.
 
It was the laughter of children mixed with a sweet female voice.
 
He opened his eyes and let his long strides steer him towards the sound.
 
As he got closer, his nose also perked up and began twitching.
 
Her scent was even more appealing than her voice, causing his muscles to ache in a way he hadn’t experienced before.
 
Every fiber in his body was propelling him towards her until he suddenly found himself pressed up against a chain-link fence surrounding an outdoor playground with a basketball court.
 
There she was.

A curvy brunette dressed in a yellow dress and matching cardigan was trying her hardest to get the ball through the hoop and failing miserably, much to the amusement of the children on the blacktop.

"This is the money shot," she said as she attempted a layup, but only managed to send the ball in a pathetic arch.
 
She retrieved the ball and clumsily dribbled back under the net for another attempt.
 
The children laughed and heckled her.

"You’ve spelled H-O-R-S-E about one hundred times now, Miss C.
 
You’re out!"
 

"You know you’re technically cheating with all these extra throws."

She looked back at them and smiled.
 
"You guys know I cheat.
 
Play with me or don’t, but you can’t complain about it."
 
She removed her cardigan and pretended to stretch her neck and legs.
 
"I’m going to show you some mad skills right now.
 
You’ll be calling me ‘Magic Johnson’ from now on."
 
With that she threw the ball with all her might, sending it smack into the pole and hurtling back at her like a boomerang.
 
She managed to get her hands up in time to protect her face, but the force sent her to the ground in a pile of yellow cotton.