The smell is like a kick to Marco’s stomach.
Not hers.
As anger surges through his body, his fingers tighten at his sides, the nails pressing into his palms. The difficulty is that he doesn’t have that fragrance. The f*****g issue is that.
Nana moves on the bed, her skin drenched in perspiration and her breath labored. She appears to be entirely destroyed by the heat. Marco, however, is unconcerned. He is unable to. She smells like another man, so no.
He stands above her, his jaw clenched. “You were touched by who the hell?”
His tone makes her wince, and she blinks up at him with glassy eyes. “I—”
He’d rather not hear it. It doesn’t really matter what reason she has or what nonsense justification she is going to give. His wolf has already clawing at the surface, demanding b
