She’d kissed him like she cared about him—not about what he could do for her, not what he could provide, but him. More than ever, he longed to go to her, to take her in his arms, to kiss her, to hold her. But he couldn’t do any of that. Kian shifted the car into drive. Pulling away was the most difficult thing he’d ever done, and he succeeded only because one thought, strong and certain, repeated in his mind. She is mine.
