She didn’t feel alone. Willow glared at her captor. But why did she have to feel this way, this incredible bonding, with a jerk like him? He’d restrained her again. Once he’d recovered from his mind-blowing orgasm, mere seconds later, in fact, he’d wrapped her up in those silken bonds once more. The fucker. She was helpless, bound, naked. “Don’t pout, Willow.” He sat, on the chair across the room—using the distance like a shield—with this legs pulled up beneath him, wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants. “It doesn’t become you.” “Damn it, Austin. Let me go.” His smile was slow, sleepy. “You know I can’t do that.” “Why the hell not?” His answer stunned her. “Because I’m not finished with you yet.” “Not…” Hell. He’d already ruined her for any other warlock—any worth having at any rate—rubbed his scent all over her from head to toe.
