“Emily Snow. Who the hell are you?” A searing flare of want burned through me. My fingers tingled with heat, aching to touch her. To punish her for daring to speak to me that way. She might have been perfect. Her wicked almond eyes shone with indignance. Contempt. I had to have her. The conclusion sat so comfortably, it was like slotting the last piece into a puzzle.
