"Regret?"
Thomas Shannon easily caught the pillow, his lips slightly curved, gaze wicked, "What would I regret?"
Sophie Sullivan snorted coldly, you'll know when the time comes.
She rolled over, lying on the bed, simply deciding that out of sight, out of mind, closing her eyes to sleep.
The mattress sank, the man's strong masculine scent with a faint touch of smoke, the next second, a long arm reached out, pulling her body into his embrace.
In a domineering pose, she was forcibly locked in his arms.
Sophie Sullivan opened her eyes, somewhat annoyed, pushed against his chest a couple of times, her beautiful eyes flickering with fiery anger, "Thomas Shannon, will you ever stop?"
A woman's temper is truly unpredictable.
Clearly, when she returned, she seemed in a good mood, yet now, not long after, she appeared ready to flip out at any moment.
A woman's heart, the sea needle, truly elusive.
