Who? What are you talking about? The phone rings. “Hello?” Ronan growls, “I’m in no mood for games. You fucking know who. That squeaky little shit is lucky I didn’t put a bullet in his head for the way he spoke to you.” His voice is all gravel, incredibly sexy despite the obvious anger. I can’t tell if it’s the protectiveness he’s displaying or that rough tone that’s turning me on, but apparently red flags are my love language because I’m flushed from head to toe. “You followed me?” He snaps, “I protect what’s mine.” “That makes no sense, considering you told me to leave town.” “Do you really
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