Only Mine (Honey Mountain, #5)

by Laura Pavlov

The man oozed BDE. But he’d met his match. Because we both had big dick energy. And I would not back down, even if he was the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Listen, big, bad Wolf. We aren’t doing this.” I motioned between us. “I can take care of myself. So go park your alpha ass elsewhere, and stop bossing me around. I don’t respond well to that.”

Fuck me. This woman owned me.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered, and her voice was sleepy. “I hate you, Wolf Wayburn.” “I hate you, too, Minx.” And just like that, sleep took us both. We didn’t have sex. It wasn’t about that. And I didn’t have a fucking clue what that even meant.

“My place or yours?” she asked over her shoulder. “Mine.” The word had more meaning than I wanted to admit. Because she was mine.

Dylan Thomas was what had been missing from my life. This wasn’t temporary—this was forever.