Another scream. Another set of hands clutching destroyed manhood.
Both men writhed on the ground, crying, all fight completely gone from their bodies.
The woman stared up at Raven, her mouth hanging open in shock and something else—something warm and confusing that made her thighs press together instinctively.
Raven looked down at her, his dark eyes meeting her tear-filled ones.
His hand was still on her hip. Still holding her against him like she belonged there.
"I'm not a kid, lady," he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous in a way that made her stomach flip.
The woman's lips trembled.
Her hands were pressed against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms.
She should pull away. Should thank him and run. Should go home to her useless husband and pretend this never happened.
But she couldn't move.
Couldn't think of anything except the heat of his hand on her hip and the way he was looking at her—like she was something 'valuable'.
