Chosen Mate: Lion Shifter Romance (Cybermates Book 5), Candace Ayers [big screen ebook reader .TXT] 📗

intimidated. How was it a pint sized bunny shifter had no fear of a furious, raging lion shifter? There was something wrong with her.

“When you’ve finished your tantum, I want to know what the hell you mean you’ve seen it. Where? How? With whom?”

I plopped down on the couch sending another cloudburst of stuffing into the air. “My parents. My mom was not only human, but a human with a soft heart, one made for love. My dad was a lion who viewed relationships with females to be emotionless. Very much like business transactions. It did not end well.”

Parker shrugged her shoulders. “Welp, fate rules. You would know that if you got your head out of your ass for one minute. Whatever your mommy-and-daddy issues are, get over it. Fate’s not listening and doesn’t care, and for some unknown reason, decided that you deserve a beautiful, warm, sweet—somewhat nerdy—woman who will love you forever. And you vetoed that! Idiot.” Parker rolled her eyes. “She may be pushing you away right now—for her own self-preservation and because she’s hurt—but she needs you, so stop sitting around crying in your cornflakes.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

She narrowed her eyes and hesitated for dramatic effect. “Fix. It.”

I shook my head. “Oh, not you too. Great advice, fix it. Stellar. Seems to be the only advice I can get lately.”

“I hope you’re not a smart ass when you talk to your mate.”

“I hope you learn to mind your own business someday.”

She huffed a laugh. “Like that’s gonna happen.” She opened the front door and sighed. “Oh, and, congratulations.”

I threw the limp, shredded pillowcase in her direction, but she’d already squeezed through the door and shut it behind her.

I sat thinking for a long time until I came up with an idea.

It might not have been the best idea ever, but to a desperate man it was a lifeline.

And I was a desperate man.

17

Elin

The house on Lovers Lane was a grand, three story home that I would guess was built in the early twentieth century, maybe earlier. I stood on the front walk admiring it for a moment before moving forward and ascending the stairs. I rang the bell, then knocked.

The client had used my online scheduling system to book a cooking lesson, and from the dropdown of items to choose, had selected brownies with caramel sauce. I had a shopping bag of supplies with me.

My jaw dropped when the door swung open and Dylan was on the other side. His lips were curved in a goofy grin and his green-gold eyes seemed almost to glow.

I hadn’t seen him in a couple days, and I couldn’t help it—my heart fluttered and the breath left my lungs.

What was he doing here? This was my clien—

Then it hit me. I wanted to smack myself. Just a hard slap or two on the off chance it would serve to knock some sense into me.

“This is your house.”

He nodded. “Bingo. Please don’t be mad. I just wanted to see you. And to learn to bake, of course.”

“Of course.” I wasn’t mad, not exactly. Even though this whole thing was flying more red flags than a red flag company, I’d missed him. I hated that I missed him, but I did miss him.

Besides, he looked adorable. His golden hair was tousled in a carefree style. His dark t-shirt stretched over his sculpted chest and rock hard biceps, and combined with the sexy-goofy half-grin, had my mouth watering. A shiver ran through me. A warm flush of arousal flowed from my head to my toes just from looking at the man.

He stepped aside and motioned me in. When I didn’t move, he pleaded.

“C’mon, just give me a chance?”

Finally, I shrugged and brushed past him into the house.

“It’s your dime, Oliver.” He’d booked the session under the name Oliver Klosoff. How in the hell had I fallen for that name? It was as bad as Seymour Butts. Immature. Childish. I stifled a grin. Funny.

I didn’t look around too much before he ushered me into the kitchen, but from what I could tell, it was clean and tastefully decorated. Except for the couch pillows which were shredded and virtually devoid of stuffing.

The kitchen was newly remodeled.

“Nice kitchen.” I sat the bag of groceries and supplies on the counter.

“Thanks.” As he pitched in and started helping me unpack, the nearness of him drove me insane. I didn't know what was wrong with me today. Hormones? My body responded to him like he was a narcotic. I was overcome by a powerful and overwhelming onslaught of raw physical desire.

“So, boss, what do we do first?”

Oh, Lord. His voice was like warm rain dancing against my skin. Moisture pooled between my legs. I suddenly wondered if he could scent how aroused I was. He was able to scent the pregnancy, so probably. My cheeks heated at the realization.

As though I was standing outside my body, I directed Dylan to turn the oven on to preheat, then combine the cream, brown sugar, and butter in a saucepan on the stove and begin making the caramel sauce.

As we waited for it to warm, his eyes raked over me with a look of such heated desire that I knew unequivocally I wasn’t the only one affected.

I sucked a sharp breath.

A needy pulsing ignited in my belly. Dylan’s smolderingly sexy gaze said exactly what was on his mind.

He took a step toward me.

I knew I should stop him before this went any further, but I couldn’t bring myself to push him away. My body craved him like I was under a spell.

Heat shot through my veins. Liquid lava.

How was it the man was able to breach my every defense?

“Dylan, what are we doing?”

I didn’t know what dance we were dancing, but I wanted his arms around me again.

“I’m playing it by ear, but right now, the idea running through my head is to worship your body until you can’t live without me.”

He lifted me