Best Friends Shouldn't Crave Your Moan
“Get your fucking hands off him.”
Zach stepped forward. He was twenty at the time, already tall and broad like a fighter, with sharp blue eyes and an aura that screams danger. His black hair was messy, and the edge of his dragon tattoo peeked out from his shirt sleeve. He didn’t have to yell, just looking at him made the guys to back off immediately.
The leader scoffed, trying to look tough. “Mind your own business.”
Zach smiled, but his eyes were cold. “He is my business now. Walk away.”