Accidental Surrogate

Ella

The flour collides with Sinclair’s face in an explosion of white powder, covering his features in dense grains and fluttering through the air around us. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and fear slices through me as I wonder if I’ve made a grave mistake. Sinclair takes a moment to open his eyes after the flour hits, but when he does, his wolf is glowing bright in his irises, and my instincts take over.

I try to duck under his arms, to evade his hold anyway I can. However the moment I begin attempting escape he leans forward, crushing my body between him and the counter. At once I’m reminded of how much larger Sinclair is. Sometimes it’s easy to be fooled when I’m dressed up in heels or there’s space between us, but now I can feel how helpless I am beside him. The top of my head barely reaches his sternum, and next to his muscles, my slender limbs feel terribly frail.

Sinclair’s breath is coming in heaving gasps, and I have the good sense to remain frozen as he tries to gain control of his wolf. When I look up at him, I can see only the wild animal fuming beneath his skin, and I realize exactly how dangerous this man is.

I’m not sure if he’s going to attack me, or yell at me, and my heart is racing a mile a minute. I instinctively flinch when he moves, but he doesn’t raise a hand against me. Instead he reaches past be towards the bowl of chocolate cake batter, and the next thing I know, a river of the thick, sweet mixture is dripping down my face.

I gasp in shock, realizing that Sinclair is pouring the batter over me, and try to jerk away. “Dominic, no!”

A dark laugh rolls through the big wolf like thunder, “Oh baby, you asked for this.”

I raise my arms over my head, trying to protect myself, but when that doesn’t work I reach for the bowl too, returning fire with handful of batter straight into Sinclair’s expensively tailored shirt. Soon we’re wrestling over the bowl, trying to retrieve more sweet ammunition to splatter each other with, and I’m laughing harder than I can remember laughing in a very long time.

icing, reaching up with two hands and smearing it over his face as he

and still searching for new ways to combat one another. The bowls on the counter are already empty, and I narrow my eyes at Sinclair as

pantry, pulling open the door to use as a shield and disappearing inside, zeroing in on a bottle of caramel syrup, even as I see Sinclair plucking a can of whipped cream from the fridge. Soon we’re stalking around the kitchen island, trying to get close enough to squirt each other with our chosen item, and inevitably laughing and racing away when the other

around the edge of the counter, making him think I’m going to go in a direction other than the one I intend, but I’m outmatched in this game in every possible way. Sinclair is bigger, stronger and faster, and he can read my intentions

until I manage to wriggle free, even though I know he’s letting me escape. If he wanted to he could have easily pinned me in place, but we’re both having too

an unholy mess, but I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun. Sinclair has completely surprised me too – I never expected him to have a playful side, and it’s so different from the men I’ve known before. Mike and I certainly never did anything like this, and I doubt my ex would have had the inclination or the confidence to let a woman defy him this way. Sinclair,

see me this way at all. Yet I can’t help it, the more time that passes the more certain I feel

way back to the pantry, but Sinclair has other ideas. “Come here you.” He purrs, snatching me up. “Such a bad girl.” His fingers are digging into my sides, tickling me ruthlessly and making me giggle and squeal uncontrollably. I try to wrestle him for dominance, but I know it’s

straddling his middle

won, do you?” He taunts, grinning

big tough wolves say if

– I didn’t even see him flip me, but suddenly our situations are completely reversed. I’m still straddling Sinclair, my legs spread on either side of his body so that his hardness is pressed to my most sensitive flesh through our clothes. “They’d