“You’re the sweet, innocent lamb that’s hell-bent on playing with fire,” he said, walking me backwards until my legs hit my bed. “So, you might want to stop hunting me, Molloy.” His hands moved to my hips, and he literally tossed me down on the mattress. “Because if you don’t?” With my wrists pinned to the mattress above my head, he stepped between my legs and leaned in close, so close that his nose brushed mine. “Then one of these days, I’m going to hunt you back.” Oh fuck. “You got that?” Releasing one wrist, he swiftly cupped my chin and forced me to look at him. “Friend?” “I’ve got it.”
...more
