“And why were you worried about me, hellcat? Tell the truth.” God, his voice is hot. And his body is hot. As are the air, my skin, and my panties. I’ve got a conflagration in my underpants that could turn the entire East Coast into a pile of smoking ashes. I say hoarsely, “Because I hate you, and I want to be there when you finally get shot through the heart by one of your enemies.” “But I already have, lass,” he murmurs, his lips moving against my skin. “I already have.” He pulls my head back and kisses me. And just like that, I’m gone.
