8
Just being in her bed with Ryske went against what Harlow had been asserting since the night they’d met. But he had wormed his way into her affections. As much as she wanted to believe him, Harlow wouldn’t be naïve.
Ryske was no romantic hero. It would be her own fault if she was dumb enough to cross this street without looking both ways.
Touching his brow with a fingertip, she wondered if anyone truly got inside this man’s head. “How many women have you made fall in love with you, Crash?”
“Love?” he asked and shrugged, finger-combing her hair to the back of her shoulder, though it fluttered down onto his bare chest again the moment it left his digits. “I don’t know. But I’ve hurt more than I’d be proud to admit.”
Stroking her fingernail through his eyebrow, Harlow concentrated how
