The Billionaires Gaze

The chase was on.

Brock lifted his confront to the cool evening breeze and took a profound breath through his nose. The black out, musky fragrance of Scottish heather blooms waited in the discuss and tickled his senses.

A unusual thing to be noticing in the center of downtown Seattle, he had to admit.

His sapphire blue eyes shimmered with expectation. He was getting near presently. Another few minutes and he'd be observing the enticing influence of Heather's full hips as she sashayed down the city street.

The thought made his mouth water and the blood beat overwhelming inside his veins.

Another float of scented discuss hit him straight in the crotch. In reaction, a non domesticated snarl thundered up from his chest and he picked up his pace. Head and shoulders taller than any of the human stragglers that were still out this late, he gotten more than a few sideways looks as he plowed down the sidewalk.

Taking another profound breath, he groaned out loud. He may essentially taste her. Heather Knight: The human female with eyes the color of a fine cognac, warm chestnut hair, and thick, womanly bends he couldn't hold up to get his paws on.

He'd met her as it were a few hours prior, after taking after her companion to her flat. She'd opened her entryway dressed in nothing but yoga pants and a tank best, and he'd been wrapped up in ties over the lady ever since.

And presently she was running from him. Running from a werewolf. A ruthless grin lit his eyes.

Silly girl.

Shit, shit, shit.

Heather looked back over her bear as she rushed to get over the road some time recently the light turned green. Not that there was much activity this time of the night, but with her luckiness, she'd oversee to walk right in front of the one and as it were car that was on the road.

By a few supernatural occurrence, she made it securely to the other side, and at that point expeditiously stumbled up over the check and onto the walkway, scarcely catching herself some time recently she confront planted on the grimy concrete.

Seriously?

Pulling her blue, borrowed running coat back into put, she kept going as if nothing had happened, thankful that there wasn't anybody around at the minute to witness her close drop. It's not like she was one of those little small young ladies that may get absent with being klutzy and individuals (folks) fair thought it was charming. Nooo. She was twenty-eight, not very five foot nine, and...well, let's not go there. Suffice it to say, she was certainly not in any threat of ever being charged of starving herself.

She twitched at a uproarious blast behind her, her heart jumping inside her chest, but it was fair a development truck wrapping up up a few roadwork some time recently the early morning surge hour. She reproved herself for being so unsteady, but she had the most unusual feeling that she was being followed.

A certain tall, dim, and nice looking picture of masculine yumminess bounced through her intellect, and she looked behind her once more, overseeing not to trip this time.

He wouldn't. Would he?

She shook her head and pushed down the minor piece of trust that was attempting to drift to the surface of her lose hope. Brock Hume would not be taking after her. Why would he?

Yeah, definitely, so they'd traded a few flirty looks and possibly, conceivably, she had made an allusion or two (or four) on the flight here from their domestic in China. That didn't cruel he'd go through all the inconvenience of taking after her when she cleared out. That man was...

He was...nice? Tall? Brave?

Nope, there was no other way to put it. He was hot, sticky sex on a adhere was what he was. He may get any lady he wanted.

A prettier lady. A skinnier woman.

A lady who didn't know, or didn't care, that he wasn't a man at all, but a freaking werewolf.

Remembering her stun when she'd found out upon their entry in Seattle that he yells at the full moon once a month, she pondered how she hadn't figured it out prior. No mortal human was that hot. The fellow had to be at slightest six foot seven of immaculate muscle. Long brown hair, shot through with gold highlights, hung down past his shoulders. Shinning blue eyes had grinned at her from underneath overwhelming, dull brows and a wide temple. A near cut facial hair did nothing to cover up his solid jaw and culminate lips.