Damn but the man looked fine as hell in his black T-shirt and jeans.
His arms were bigger than my thighs, and that was saying something.
Muscles stacked on muscles spread across his arms and chest.
He had to be over six feet, and every inch of him honed to rippling perfection.
His buzzed hair made my palms tingle.
What would it feel like to run my hands over the short stubble?
Blue eyes locked onto me, and when he crossed his arms, I spotted something I’d missed before.
A stretch of scars spanned his left arm.
Burn scars.
I’d seen similar scars during my volunteer days at the hospital before I became a detective.
Curiosity ignited.
What had happened to him?
A hand slid around my hip and across my spine.
Ash reappeared out of nowhere and hauled me to his side. “Miss me?”
“Not even a little bit.” It was a complete and utter lie.
I’d missed his touch the instant he moved away.
The excitement in my blood began a slow build.
No one had ever tested me the way Ash did.
What if he felt the wire under my dress?
It was thin and easy to miss, but not impossible.
I smirked at the fake wounded expression that transformed Ash’s face.
He slapped a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
“Hardly.” I snorted a laugh that caused his lips to twitch.
“You have a gorgeous mouth.” He leaned into my space, his breath smelling like whiskey and desire. “Do you have any idea what I’d like to do with it?”
Movement behind Ash drew my attention before I made a complete fool of myself and asked what he wanted from me.
Rafe descended the steps slowly, his black eyes sweeping the room.
Bishop stepped to the side, his arms still crossed in that massive barricade.
The room quieted, and people moved out of Rafe’s way with nods of respect in his direction.
He locked onto me and Ash, and his jaw tightened.
With a crook of his finger, he demanded that we join him.
