“I don’t want to leave yet, Ronan,” I say in a plea. A large hand touches the small of my back, and the rebellious feeling starts to fade. “We’re not leaving. I just had to get you away from that smooth talker, Matis. He’d have you on that table, devouring you like a meal in minutes, if I hadn’t stepped in.” My brow furrows in confusion as he pulls me farther into the club. “Wow,” I reply sarcastically, “thanks for saving me from that.”
