"Okay, okay… I'll kiss it better." Clutching my wildly beating heart, I fumbled for the first-aid kit and knelt before him.

"Hold still. This might sting."

I dipped a cotton swab in antiseptic, carefully cleaning the grime from the long-healed scars on his torso. After each wipe, I lowered my head and gently blew a cool breath over the spot.

The warm, moist air on his skin sent a tremor through his entire body.

I was completely absorbed in my task, utterly oblivious to the heat of his gaze intensifying from above.

Ronan felt no pain. Only a tingling, electric current that spread from every point of my touch. He devoured me with his eyes.

He watched the delicate flutter of my lashes as I worked, the way my lips pursed in concentration, the vulnerable, pale skin of my nape.

It was a ravenous look, the look of a predator about to devour his prize.

"Lift your arm," I commanded, still blissfully unaware.

Ronan obediently raised his arm. To get to the scars on his back, I had to lean in, my body almost flush against his chest.

"Don't move, the gauze is tangled," I muttered, trying to work out a knot.

Just then, Ronan’s knee shifted—accidentally, of course. I lost my balance and pitched forward.

"Oof!"

I fell into his rock-hard, searing chest. The next second, a powerful hand clamped around my waist.

My world tilted.

The man who was supposed to be my subdued prize grabbed me with one hand, and with a single, fluid motion, flipped me onto my back, pinning me firmly to the soft carpet.

The zip ties were gone. Or perhaps, they had never been a constraint to begin with.

He loomed over me, his dark eyes a vortex threatening to pull my very soul into their depths.

"You've got some nerve, Blair," he said suddenly, his voice a low, husky growl.

The large hand that had just been bound was now caressing my waist, his rough fingertips an abrasive whisper against the fabric of my dress.

The sudden reversal sent my head reeling. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I refused to show fear. "Know your place, Ronan," I managed, forcing a steady voice. "I'm the one who bought you—mmph!"

"Is that so?" he chuckled, his knee pressing insolently between my legs. The searing heat of his body burned through the thin fabric, sending a jolt through me.

"Weren't you the one who just threw yourself at me, Boss? But…" His tone shifted, his gaze lazily sweeping over my pinned hands before finally landing on my lips.

"Since you're so eager, it seems only right that I be on top. All the better to serve my boss."

The air crackled. We were inches apart, our breaths mingling.

His gaze slid from my eyes, down to my lips, then lingered on my neck and collarbone.

It was too hot, that look. It melted my bones.

My mind raced. What is he going to do? Kiss me? Or maybe…

I should have pushed him away. Sixty million or not, he was a dangerous stranger. And yet…

That intoxicating scent of tobacco and leather was a potent narcotic, stripping away my will to resist.

A treacherous part of me was secretly anticipating him closing the distance.

Ronan slowly lowered his head. I instinctively closed my eyes, my lashes fluttering, but the kiss I expected never landed.

Instead, he buried his face in the crook of my neck, taking a deep, greedy breath. His hot breath ghosted across my skin, raising goosebumps.

"Blair…" he whispered, his voice thick with a decade of longing and suppressed desire.

"You smell so good…"

The dominant, yet strangely comforting scent filled my senses. I was on the verge of surrendering completely when a profound heaviness descended on my eyelids.

Years of corporate warfare and family power struggles had left me with crippling insomnia. It had been an eternity since I'd felt a natural wave of sleepiness without pills.

And yet here, in the arms of this dangerous man, I felt an unprecedented sense of security. Like a ship, long adrift, finally finding its harbor.

"You can only… hold me for a little while…" I mumbled, my push against his chest growing weaker. "If you try anything… I'll throw you out…"

The next second, I was sound asleep. Ronan, his head still buried in my neck, went completely still.

He listened to the soft, even rhythm of my breathing and was utterly dumbfounded.

She... fell asleep? Now? In the arms of a man who was seconds away from taking her?

She had actually passed out, using him as a human sedative.

"Ha," he huffed, a helpless laugh escaping him as he looked at the defenseless woman sleeping beneath him.

"You really don't see me as a threat at all."

With a sigh of wry defeat, he propped himself up to head for a cold shower, but the instant he shifted, the sleeping woman's arms snaked around his waist, locking him in place.

"Don't go…" Like a kitten guarding her prize, she pressed her body against his. She nuzzled her face into his hot chest, found a more comfortable position, and drifted back to sleep.

Ronan froze. How in the hell was he supposed to move now?

He gazed at the unguarded sleeping face in his arms, and the raw possessiveness in his eyes slowly melted into a devout, tender kiss on her forehead.

"You're the one who started this, Blair. Now that I have you, don't even think about escaping me in this lifetime."

He reached out, pulling her and the blanket into a tight, seamless embrace.

Across the street, in a neighboring building, Cole watched through a pair of high-powered binoculars. His grip went slack, and the binoculars nearly tumbled from his hands.

It was over.

The ruthless, undisputed king of the underworld had just been reduced to a human weighted blanket for a rich girl.

It was the deepest sleep I’d had in years.

I woke not to a headache, but to the familiar, protective scent of tobacco and leather.

And a wet, ticklish sensation in the hollow of my shoulder.

I blinked my eyes open to find Ronan wrapped around me like a giant octopus, his arms and legs tangled with mine.

One of his legs was possessively wedged between mine, his knee pressing intimately against my inner thigh.

His head was buried in my neck, his warm lips and tongue tracing a path up my collarbone before nuzzling the soft flesh of my shoulder.

It didn't hurt, but it tickled. Worse, something undeniably hard and hot was pressing against my lower back.

As a grown woman, I knew exactly what that was.

"Ronan, stop," I said, my body stiff as I pushed against him.

He lifted his head, a dark, restrained fire in his eyes. He quickly masked the dangerous glint, replacing it with a look of pure, bewildered innocence. "Good morning, Boss."

He nuzzled my palm like a cat, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. My resolve softened.

We had just slept. Aside from the embrace and his… biological morning enthusiasm, he hadn't crossed any lines.

It seemed my sixty-million-dollar fighter, for all his ferocious looks, was a gentleman.

However, I soon discovered the man had a problem.

From the moment we woke up, Ronan was glued to my side. He followed me everywhere, and the moment my attention wavered, he would lean in, persistently trying to nip at my shoulder.

It was almost as if… he was anxious.

I recalled reading about certain animals that bit to relieve stress.

"Arthur," I called to the butler, snapping my fingers. "Go out and buy a collection of the highest-quality stress toys on the market."

Ten minutes later, Ronan stared at the assortment of silicone stress balls I'd shoved into his hands, his face instantly darkening.