If there was a magical door to his raw emotion, she had stepped through. There would be no escape.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” Regan demanded, trying to reclaim her arm. Her step-brother’s grip was like steal. Out of nowhere, he had grabbed her by the arm and dragged her off the dance floor like a rag doll. “Be still,” Ian ordered. The defined line of his jaw was set and its muscle flexed. Having made it off the dance floor and away from the mass of people, he finally turned to...Read On