by Anne Marsh
I keep an eye on her for the next few minutes while I plan my move. She is really not supposed to be here. This is my club, my territory, my house. Did I mention that I am now the head of the Miami branch of the Bratva? Just think of us as the American cousins of the most powerful Russian Mafia family in Moscow. And while I recently took us mostly legitimate, you do not want to piss us off. I make sure Lily keeps on walking past the smaller players currently manning the drug pipeline that fuel the Miami club scene. She does not need their brand of trouble. Those stupid bastards had better keep their drugs in their pockets and their dicks in their pants because delivering a beatdown would put my developing plans for the night on ice.
Fortunately, when idiot number one offers her a little narcotic something-something, she laughs and shakes her head, sending honey-colored hair dancing across her shoulders. She even manages to look both mortified and slightly offended as if she cannot believe anyone would offer her drugs. Lily Petrov does not frequent the Miami club scene, but she could totally rule it if she wanted.
She glows with happiness and pleasure. When a passing waiter offers her a tray of drinks, she contemplates the selection for a long minute, clearly undecided about which to choose. If it were me, I would hand her the whole goddamned tray. Eventually she picks the frozen glass, mouthing a thank-you at the server. I definitely would not have pegged her for a whiskey-sour gal. She strikes me as more of the fruity daiquiri type, the kind with a little pastel umbrella and a cherry.
I need to not think about tongues and cherry stems.
Too late. My dick tents the front of my very expensive tuxedo pants, making its preference for the evening’s entertainment clear. Kiss the girl. Lick the icy froth off her upper lip, because my unexpected party guest is downright uninhibited in her enjoyment of her drink. I promptly imagine that white cream is my jizz and I have just come all over her face, her throat, her tits. Painted her until she is filthy—and mine.
Lily Petrov is not my type. I remind myself of this. She is a fresh-faced twenty-two, and she looks as if life has not shit on her ever, although I know the truth. She is strong. She has had to be. Men turn to follow her with their gazes as she crosses the dance floor, her hips rocking left-right-left thanks to her ridiculously high heels. My kind of woman is older. She knows the score, the rules to the game, and she lives to play.
Or my kind used to be.
That is right. I am at the end of a six-year sexual drought. I have not had sex since the day Lily Petrov’s father suggested I marry her to cover up my stepbrother’s sins and then offered to compensate me well if I took the fall for the club assaults as well. I took his daughter, his real estate, and his deal. When I say she is not my type and she has no place here? That is wishful thinking, ladies and gentlemen.
I may not have talked to my wife since we faced off across a courtroom, but she owns every inch of this Russian’s ass.
About the Author
Anne Marsh is a NYT and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance. She has published over thirty novels and novellas. Ann is also part of the NYT and USAT bestselling authors collective behind the SEALs of Summer military anthologies, and has hit the USA Today bestseller list individually with both her paranormal and her military smoke jumper books. She lives in Northern California with her husband, two kids and four cats.
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More by Anne Marsh
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WHEN SEALS COME HOME BOXED SET II
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BEFORE HE WAS WICKED (Free prequel!)
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CLAIMED BY THE PACK
TAKEN BY THE PACK
CAPTURED BY THE PACK
BLUE MOON BRIDES BOXED SET: BOOKS 1-3
BLUE MOON BRIDES BOXED SET: BOOKS 1-5
WOLF’S DESIRE
WOLF’S REDEMPTION
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The Breed MC: Wolf Pack Motorcycle Club
WOLF’S HEART
WOLF’S PROPERTY
WOLF’S CLAIM
Copyright © 2017 Anne Marsh
All rights reserved.
www.anne-marsh.com
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, with the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
Cover design by Kim Killion.
Formatting and ebook design by Geek Girl Author Services.
Contents
Wolf's Claim
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
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