Westin (The Sovereign Mountain, #2)

by Raya Morris Edwards

He looks out at the world like a bullet from the barrel of a shotgun. If it threatens him, he’ll shoot back.

“I hope you weren’t saving that first kiss for anyone, Miss Carter,” I say quietly. “Because I think it’s mine.”

“Can I have that again?” she breathes. She could ask me for the moon, and I’d drag it down for her.

The room is permeated with the scent of metal and summertime honeysuckle. I’ll remember it as long as I live. It smells like the day Diane Carter became mine.