Turning on the sink, she cleaned up, exquisitely sensitive and more than a little tender between her legs. Not that she cared about the ache. Wrath could do that to her anytime he wanted. He was… No words came to mind. Just an image of him releasing into her, his massive, sweat-covered shoulders and chest seizing up as he gave himself to her. As he branded her as his. Which was what it had seemed like. She felt as though she’d been dominated and imprinted by a man. Taken. And she wanted that again. Wanted him now.
