The Hockey’s Plaything
His eyes burned with possession, with something dangerous and unspoken.
“You don’t understand,” he said, voice low and rough. “I’m never letting you go now. Never.”
Before she could respond, his mouth claimed hers in a bruising kiss, there was no thought, no hesitation, just heat and hunger and the terrible, beautiful inevitability of what they’d both chosen.
Marcus’s kiss left Chloe dizzy, her lips swollen and tingling. She barely had time to catch her breath before he gripped her shoulders and spun her gently but firmly around. Her stomach met the smooth wood of his desk, the edge pressing into her hips.