Bad Wolf (A Breed MC Book Book 5) by Anne Marsh

Author:Anne Marsh [Marsh, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, shape shifters, Fiction, Fantasy, paranormal
Published: 2018-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

If I’d been the one creating the fake boyfriend plan, I’d certainly have added naked to the top of the list. Me naked. Rain naked. Playing naked slip-and-slide on her office furniture, naked in the back of my truck, stripped down at my favorite look-out, and definitely naked in a really big bed. It would’ve been awesome. Of course, then it wouldn’t have been fake either. It occurs to me that I don’t know where Rain lives or what her bedroom looks like. After we left the clubhouse yesterday, she had me drop her off at the clinic and then she waited until I rode off before she left. My wolf thought we should follow her home to make sure she got there safe, but my human knew that was a bad idea. And since she was trusting me to do what she asked, I did.

So the day after we agree to go all out, pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend, I’m once again standing in the parking lot of her work. I’m holding two large bags of take out. Given Rain’s reaction to my culinary endeavors the night before, this means I’m holding nothing that used to have a face—just pounds and pounds of vegetable crap. Since wolves and meat are like peanut butter and chocolate, a fucking match made in heaven, I’ve also taken a few minutes to pre-eat before our lunch date and scarf down a couple of nice, juicy burgers.

I paste a just-got-laid grin on my face and stride to the front door. Yes, Dave the Dick, I’ve been in your girl—and newsflash, she’s traded up. Not like I can take my own dick out and wave it around the parking lot—Rain’s made it clear that traumatizing pregnant ladies will put me on her permanent shit list and un-do all my good work apologizing—but I walk like I own the world. Which I do. It’s good to be an apex predator, and unless Sir Dicks-a-lot turns out to be a dinosaur shifter or a closet dragon with an undersized weiner, I’m bigger, badder, and a thousand times more vicious than him.

I’m halfway to the door when I spot my target. He’s lurking behind an older BMW with a sweet paint job. I slow my roll so he can appreciate my magnificence. I’m at least five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. Mentally I draw a little picture of him. Brown hair that’s artfully tousled around his face, lean, gym fit. He doesn’t fit the villain mold, but he’s also not the hero type. He’s wearing a pair of dark dress slacks, a button-down shirt, and a baby blue tie that’s open at the throat. He looks like one of those banker types, and part of me can see why Rain might have taken a second look. He’s baby daddy material, respectably employed, solid.

Except that there’s something really fucking shifty about the look on his face. Like he’s scoping out his territory. I make a mental note to pee on a few trees and parking blocks just in case he does turn out to be a shifter after all.

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