The rooftop of the Sinclair Citadel was a desolate island of concrete and cold wind, but in Lowin’s arms, Amilah felt the world shrink until there was nothing left but the scent of him. Expensive cologne and a raw, masculine heat that acted like a narcotic on her senses.
Lowin held her with a grip that bordered on bruising, his chest heaving. The terror of the last few minutes had left a jagged edge to his possessiveness. He didn't just want her close; he wanted to absorb her, to ensure that not a single inch of her was out of his reach.
"Where did you go? I was so worried..." Amilah sobbed, her small fists punching his chest in a futile, affectionate rhythm.
Lowin’s heart hammered against her knuckles. A surge of warmth flooded his chest, warring with a dark, simmering frustration at h
