Matthew Powell’s eyes narrowed, the sharp line of his brows lifting slightly.
“You looking to die?”
“Mr. Elliott, please—” Sarah Lacy hurried to speak, terrified that Matthew would snap and kill someone on the spot.
Sam Elliott chuckled, his gaze crawling over Sarah in a way that made the air feel greasy.
“Ms. Lacy,” he said, voice low and leering, “I’ll be honest—you’re the most stunning and refined woman I’ve ever seen. Stay with me. Be my lover. I’ll make sure the rest of your life is nothing but luxury and pleasure.”
Sarah’s face turned cold. “Mr. Elliott, please show some respect.”
“Respect?” Sam laughed loudly. “Oh, I’m heavy, all right, but don’t worry—I won’t crush you. I prefer to take women from behind—”
He didn’t even get to finish the sentence.
He lunged at her.
Sarah
