Reaper (Boston Underworld, #2)

by A. Zavarelli

And I’m not the girl who gets the prince. I’m the girl he bangs because he can.

Damaged souls have their own beauty. A dark, terrifying beauty. The same type of beauty I recognize in Ronan.

He nudges my legs apart and pushes his palm between my legs like he owns that part of me. Who am I to argue? He does fucking own me. He’s polluted my mind so that I can only ever think of him. Only ever want him.

I catch sight of Lachlan grinning. And then the bastard winks at me. He fucking winks.

He isn’t at all sweet. But if I wanted sugar, I’d eat a fucking cupcake.

“Nobody else gets to see you like that,” he declares. “Ye’re claimed.” His words douse me in gasoline. His eyes light the match. And when he grinds himself against me, all that’s left to do is burn for him.

My life, my love, my breath. May we always have each other, in this life and the next.