All his life he felt he hadn’t belonged but it wasn’t until Clarity Langford appeared did he know the truth of it. Once that truth was revealed there was no going back for Connor Angus, only forward. He discovers he is the long thought dead son of pack Elite leader, Charles Langford. And with that knowledge comes a family full of sisters, mystery and longing for things he’s not sure he has any right to obtain and one of those things is Cordelia Sinclair.
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“Good morning,” came a quiet rumble behind her.
Without thinking, she turned and punched, dropping her coffee cup in the process, the hot liquid spilling everywhere. She saw the man was blond and powerful but beyond those attributes she couldn’t tell because he held his hand to his face.
“What the hell?” His question came out on a low growl.
“Who are you?” Her tone harsh and edgy.
“Maybe I’m the one who should be asking the questions.” He reached out, grabbed her by the upper arms and slammed her on the table giving her little time to respond. Taking a good whiff, his smile was almost feral.
Cordelia struggled against his grip. “Let me go.”
“Not until you tell me who you are.”
He pressed the full length of his body against her. And what a form it was if what was pressed against her stomach held true. Still, she heaved in frustration as her instinct to get away kicked in. Once she was near him, he smelled more like a spring meadow and the Elites than the Betas. She didn’t care his sexy cock grew by the second. She didn’t care he took his time trying to analyze her smell. Suddenly she was all wet and hot and bothered. All she cared about was this crazy man caught her off guard, threw her on the table and tried to immobilize her. The mere action pissed her off. She lifted her leg hard and chuckled inside when he fell away. Men always left something exposed.
“You fight dirty.” He bent over, one hand to his crotch and the other on his knee breathing deeply.
His voice was a rich, deep timber like honey when the nights started to get cold in the autumn. There would be no way she’d let her guard down with this man if his voice did things to her insides that made her feel like a schoolgirl.
“I do what I have to do.” Her voice was a breathless whisper.
“And you had to hit me?” Slowly, he rose to his full height, towering over her. “I don’t know what you’re doing here but I’m beginning to wonder if you are even supposed to be here.”
His comment pissed her off even more. She drew back her hand and punched him in the face again. “I’ll show you who’s supposed to be here.”
“What the hell did I ever do to you?” The man stood there, a stunned expression on his face.
“Come on. You don’t like to fight women?” His eyes grew wider at her comment.
“You want to fight me?” His question held a hint of surprise and lots of disbelief. “Woman, you don’t know what you’re asking for.” He took a step nearer.
She broadened her stance and prepared for the worst. He outweighed her by probably eighty pounds and was a full head taller than her. His body was lean with lots of muscle. She’d barely gotten rid of the baby fat and the baby had been born four years ago. Still, this was simply going to be a battle of wits at least in her mind. She saw him slowly raise his hand and splay his palm toward her. Suddenly on her ass, a thought flashed through her mind. Damn, he’s a psychic.
“Now who’s not playing fair?” She growled at him. This was going to be harder than planned. She reached up to the table and pulled herself up, her hand grazed the place settings just waiting for guests.
Award winning author Lynn Crain has done it all in her life. She loves writing full time weaving contemporary, fantasy, futuristic and paranormal tales, tame to erotic, for various publishers. Her home is in the desert though currently she lives in Austria as her husband works his dream job.