Beneath the Don’s Control
Dangerous.
My feet rooted to the ground as he approached, slow and deliberate. Every step a threat. Or a promise.
His hand shot out, gripping my elbow firmly. My breath stuttered. "Tell me," he murmured, voice choking me.
I twisted, struggling to break free, and in my frantic movement—my foot slipped. I gasped, bracing for impact.
But he caught me.
His arm circled my waist like steel, hauling me against him. Our faces inches apart. His scent drowning me. His heat melting me.
Bab Populer