My gaze lingered on the tips of horns peeking out of his waistband, marking the very edge of his delicious V. I felt the unreasonable urge to tug his shorts lower to see more of that infamous bull. Savio climbed into the cage without deigning me with a single look, but then before he faced Mick, his dark eyes hit me. He was sure of his victory, sure of his prize: me. He was willing to fight for me, to bleed for me. For that fact alone, I already belonged to him.
