Truro Simpson is confused. What the hell is going on in the sleepy town of Ludlum? One moment her life is quiet and boring and the next she’s having orgasmic sex with a hot, tattooed stranger and odd people are turning up talking about werewolves and soul mates. Do the wolves of Ludlum have something to do with that? And does any of it really matter when she is having the best sex of her life?

Every fifty years, a clan of wolves seeks new mates. Murphy Green is a werewolf. He is in Ludlum for Truro, his soul mate. The problem is the lady doesn’t believe it. That’s okay. His plan is to seduce her with sweet words and hard cock until she’s as breathless with need and as hungry to touch and taste as he is.

“What are you doing?”
Truro Simpson’s mouth slid off the man’s cock with a loud, wet pop. “If you have to ask then I’m not doing it right.” And to be honest Truro wasn’t sure she was. This was the first time she had ever taken a penis into her mouth. She was making it up as she went along. It wasn’t quite the lollipop experience she’d imagined but it wasn’t bad either. In fact it was quite exciting having a man’s attention focused solely on her.
His hand cupped her chin and lifted her head. “Oh you are—but why?” His eyes locked with hers.
Well, that’s not the answer I was expecting, though the subtle Irish lilt to his voice is so damn sexy. But then there was something about this tawny-haired man that had caught Truro’s attention the minute their eyes had connected at the local diner. She had felt compelled to look at him and when he had smiled at her, Truro had almost forgotten to breathe. She could say that was the reason she had accompanied him to the quiet motel on the edge of Ludlum. Or she could have said it was all to do with that New Age stuff about feeling an instant connection and that she was pulled toward someone without a chance to think. But, in reality, it was probably more that Truro was needy and just wanted to touch a man to get back some of the sensual power she was missing in her life. Maybe a feminist might have called that ridiculous but Truro didn’t care a great deal about what others thought about her. What she did care about and like was the sensual feel of a hard-bodied male under her fingertips. She’d missed that. Okay, so I’m basically alone and horny and I want to play with a man. What’s the harm in that?
“I want to see you lose control.” Truro liked the power of making a man come. Of course there was more to it than that but there was no way she was going to tell all her needy secrets to a stranger. The fact that he was unknown was perfect. Truro had something to prove and if she failed with him then it didn’t matter. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.
“Why?”
What was this? Twenty questions? She had her mouth poised over his cock. A lot of men wouldn’t be thinking with their brain about now. “Because.” It was her standard noncommittal answer to everything. Luckily few people challenged her, so few delved deeper.
He pushed back on her shoulders. “Wait a second.”
“Are you serious?” Sudden feelings of inadequacy and the nasty words of her last lover flashed into her mind. Am I that unattractive? Is he repulsed? The pain Truro hid deep within started to leech into her veins making her doubt herself once more. What the hell am I doing? Like this guy would ever want me. Get up off your knees and get out. You’re a failure.
“This is a mutual thing, petal.’” His voice was as gentle as his hands resting on her shoulders.
Petal? Not in this lifetime. There was nothing flower-like about Truro and sweet words were too hard to rely on. “No, it’s about me giving you pleasure. Isn’t that what you want?” Truro had only just met him. She had no idea what he wanted other than quick sex. That he was a stranger was the reason she had taken a chance on him. He was an experiment for her. Turn him on and feel better about herself. She didn’t want to know his name or who he was. Truro just wanted to feel something other than ugly. Maybe Freud would have had some psychological reason why that wasn’t sound but Freud wasn’t living in her skin.
The tawny-haired man pulled her up to sit beside him on the bed. “What do you want?”
Truro almost said “you” but she stopped herself. He was naked, hot and most definitely lickable, especially the tattoo of a wolf’s head on his chest. It just begged her tongue to lean forward and taste it. It was sexy, wild and yet noble. The eyes of the wolf, like the man, searched for answers. He was every woman’s fantasy. Tall, muscular and strangely sweet. Truro hadn’t expected that. What she had been contemplating was sliding on down over his thick cock to feel a rush of heat and an instant orgasmic high. But orgasms couldn’t be relied upon. They happened so fast that they often clouded what was really happening between two people. When the haze of the moment disappeared often the reality was too hard to deal with.
“I, um—” I want to feel something other than ugly and stupid. Yeah, like I could say that. He would think I’m nuts. Maybe I am. She licked her lips and crossed her arms over her scantily covered breasts. Only a thin mauve slip covered her nakedness. “Well, if you’re not interested—”
“Oh, but I am—even more so now. What’s going on in there?” His fingers touched the bare skin of her chest. They slid slowly under the lace of her slip.
Truro shivered and swallowed hard as she tried to control the trembling his touch evoked. Oh crap, not only am I shaking, I’m going to cry too. I do not want to cry. I refuse to. She had worked too hard at keeping it all inside. Truro could not let one man get to her like this. “Oh, the usual thing. Blood pumping and arteries hardening due to the constant onslaught of excessive chocolate consumption.” When she looked in his golden-brown eyes, Truro knew he didn’t buy it. Flippant only worked on the uncaring and superficial. She knew instinctively he was neither. “This was a mistake,” she murmured as she started to get up from the bed. He was the wrong man to take on to prove something to herself.
He sought her hand and pulled her toward him, not letting her get away. “Why?”
Oh please let go. I cannot handle gentle right now. “I just wanted—”
“Meaningless one-sided sex?”
No. Maybe. I don’t know. “Yes.” How could she possibly explain to a gorgeous man like this her feelings of inadequacy? Truro bet that he never had an inadequate thought in his life. There was a power emanating from him that was both mesmerizing and commanding. It was the reason she had been drawn to him. That and the fact that he said he was just “passing through town”. If she made a fool of herself she would at least feel safe in the knowledge that only he would know.
“So you suck my cock and make me come. Is it a power trip for you?”
If only he knew. “No.”
“Are you trying to prove something, petal?”
That’s when the first teardrop fell, betraying her. Fuck. Keep it together woman. Truro wiped it away quickly. This is embarrassing. Weakness was not something she wanted to show any more. She had learned her lesson about giving in to need. It was a flaw that Truro knew weakened her. I will never allow that again.
“What could you possibly need to confirm to yourself? That you’re attractive? That you can turn a man on?”
His hand tightened on hers and Truro swallowed hard. She needed to get the hell out of there before she started bawling her eyes out. Truro hadn’t cried in a long time so it would be really ugly if she did so now.
“No.” That didn’t come out as firmly as Truro wanted it to.
“You are.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “This is about some other guy.”
Truro snorted, as she blotted the tears that betrayed her. “I can assure you I hold no torch for any man.” Her ex-lover had killed any feeling she had inside her.
“He hurt you, didn’t he?”
So badly there are times I can barely speak without crying. “This is a mistake. I should leave.” And yet she couldn’t. Her mind told her to flee but her legs refused to budge. Truro was scared yet not. I must finally be going mad.