Fifty Shades Of Lovia
His hand traveled down to my thigh, carefully avoiding the worst bruises, but worshiping every inch of skin that wasn’t broken.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he said between kisses. “Don’t do that again.”
“I’ll try not to,” I breathed. “But no promises.”
He smiled against my skin, then lifted his head to meet my eyes.
“Lovia,” he whispered. “If you weren’t injured right now, I’d make you forget the word revenge.” he said.
I grinned, my fingers teasing the waistband of his pants. “Who says I can’t multitask?”
His lips crashed into mine again, and I lost myself in the kiss—the kind of kiss that feels like forgiveness and war and surrender all at once.