Playing With Fire
Ryland The second Krystal stormed into my office like a goddamn hurricane, I knew I was in trouble. Not because she was pissed—f**k, that was half the fun—but because of the way it f*****g lit her up. Anger suited her. That fire, that raw, untamed fury that made her eyes blaze and her voice cut like a goddamn whip. It was one of the top three things about her that had me f****d six ways to Sunday. One: Her mind—sharp as a f*****g razor, cutting through bullshit with surgical precision. Two: That mouth—quick, brutal, and f*****g relentless. Three? This. Her fire. The way she threw herself into battle, no fear, no hesitation. Just pure, unfiltered f*****g passion. Damn me, but if that didn’t make something dark and hungry twist low in my gut. Travis was already there, probably expecti
- Writer
