Claimed By My Ex’s Stepbrother
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I am,” he said, kissing her again—slow, possessive, and warm. “This is very therapeutic.”
“You’re impossible,” she whispered, sinking against him.
“And you love it.”
“Roman,” she murmured, cheeks warm from kissing, “your stitches—”
“I’m fine,” he muttered against her lips, stealing another kiss before she could finish. “You think a couple of bullet holes can stop me?”
She shot him a stern look. “They should.”
Their lips brushed, lingering, lazy and sweet—until the moment turned into deeper breaths, shared warmth, and the kind of soft laughter that only existed between two people who were too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else.