warriors, Moroco had no intention of ever mating one.
who seemed to take great delight in rousing his temper?
overprotective aliens. All she cared about was keeping her sister
safe, and now that Sophie had found her mate, well, it was probably
time to leave.
she didn’t know whether she was going to tell him that she disliked
“I do not wear underwear.”
“Huh?” What the heck?
“I do not wear underwear; therefore, they are not in a twist.”
“Right, of course you don’t.” Jesus, she didn’t need to know that. She wasn’t sure what it was about this guy. He was a prickly asshole, with little-to-no-manners and bossy as all hell and yet the thought that he didn’t wear underwear under those oh-so-tight leather pants was kind of…well…fascinating. Arousing.
What was wrong with her? What did she care if he went commando, wore tighty-whities or pink and purple striped budgie-smugglers?
“You are staring at me.”
His gaze narrowed and she thought she saw a flash of amber. But that couldn’t be right. Zerconian eyes changed color with some strong emotions. Purple was happiness, red was anger, blue was sorrow, and amber was arousal. But the last thing Moroco felt towards her was arousal, right?
“You were staring down at my shaft. Were you trying to imagine what it looks like?”
She actually felt her jaw drop open and she stared at him in stupefaction.
Get it together, Saffron. Think of something witty to say. Something to hide the fact that staring was pretty much what you were doing.
(why did they cancel Firefly – sobs) and sexy, dominant males.
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