Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters #2)

by Krista Ritchie

And his brows do this thing where they furrow hard, like he’s in a bad mood. But really, he’s just brooding. It’s his normal expression, one that’s insanely attractive in this possessive—I will protect you even if it fucking kills me—quality that I didn’t think I would like until I met him. And it drew me in like this magnetic pull or a moth to a flame. All those cheesy things people say about attraction. But below the physical connection (which I’m sure isn’t too hard for any girl to possess with a guy like Ryke Meadows) there’s something more strong and pure. A friendship built from three years of non-fucking. Of talking and laughing and yes, maybe a little bit of flirting. And below that. There is only need. I didn’t realize it was there—that need—until the nightmares of my dreams became the nightmares of my life. And he’s the kind of guy who wants to slay all those monsters for me. Too bad he can’t get to the ones in my head. Even if he tries.

OMG