Make Me Yours (A Steamy Collection)
His mouth crashes onto mine, his kiss violent, possessive.
“This,” he growls against my lips, “is just the beginning.”
And then he steps back, leaving me breathless, broken, his.
The sound of engines in the distance tells me the others are coming, probably drawn by the noise, the spectacle.
Roman smirks, already pulling his jeans on, like he hasn’t just destroyed me. Like he didn’t just win.
I should be furious.
But all I can think is: Next time, I’ll make sure he begs.
Bab Populer