Bearly Tamed: A Bear Claw Tale 3 (Bear Claw Tales) by C.D. Gorri

Author:C.D. Gorri [Gorri, C.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-11T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 6

Holy shit. Daniel couldn’t breathe. Beams of sunlight caught her hair and lit up like a halo of gold around her angelic face as she slid across the floor as smoothly as a knife through hot butter. She moved with grace and feeling, as if the chores she performed meant something to her. Maybe they did.

Hell, all he knew was that she looked irresistible as she moved about the Den’s kitchen, his childhood home. His Bear chuffed happily at the thought. Mine. Fucking possessive prick that he was, he felt himself harden at the sight. She looked good in his space. Would look better at our cabin, the Bear grumbled.

Maybe, he agreed, but tried not to picture her in the cabin he’d built for himself over the past three years. Started the day after Melinda had walked out on him. Best fucking day of his life, as far as the Bear was concerned. The man agreed.

Lacey still hadn’t noticed him. Considering himself lucky, he took the time to study her. The bruises were getting better, he noted. His Bear hated the reminder she’d been hurt, he wanted badly to avenge his mate. Daniel calmed the beast, telling him to just look at her.

Nothing would ever hurt her again. He’d see to it. Besides, he couldn’t think of anything that could take away from her real beauty. The beauty that was inside of her.

Just think, a former supermodel was cooking and cleaning, walking around barefoot in his old sweatshirt. Her long hair was hanging down her back in a loose braid. She wore no make-up on her porcelain skin, nothing to hide the yellowish hued bruises that marked her skin.

She wore them proudly. Her back straight. Unashamed. Like a warrior. Yes, he wanted to kill the bastard who put them there, but he didn’t want her to feel ashamed or like she had to hide them.

She was perfect as she was. A real woman. Flesh and blood. Enchanting as she was genuine. Not at all what he’d imagined she would be. What did he know of models anyway? Perhaps he’d judged her unfairly in the past.

Known the world over as a billionaire, he’d had his fair share of run-ins with the rich and famous. He loathed that kind of society. Felt much more at home in Barvale, with his Clan. That was one of the bonuses of being so damned rich. People thought he and his brothers were simply eccentric.

Damn, she looked great in his sweatshirt. He felt himself go rigid at the thought of his clothing covering her exquisite figure. He wanted to rip it off her. Fuck. He was jealous of his own fucking sweatshirt.

Then again, maybe that wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. The lucky fabric got to touch and enfold every inch of her silky skin. He wanted to be the one embracing her body, providing warmth and shelter. Fuck, he had it bad.

She hummed off key, but completely un-self-conscious. Some corny love song with a Christmas-y theme.

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