Page 6 of Owned In Misty Mountain

Because no matter how many times I tell myself to back off, the second I see her again tomorrow, I’m gonna look.

I’m gonna get hard.

I’t’s gonna get worse.

And if any man lays eyes on her the way I do—

If one of those pimple-faced townies even breathes too close to her—

I’ll break a motherfucker.

She’s not mine.

She shouldn’t be mine.

But I already feel like I’d fucking kill to make her that way.

Four

Shanay

I make it exactly five minutes before I stop pretending to shelve books and just… watch him.

Six-foot-plus, broad as a barn, grumpy as hell—and somehow, all of that only makes him hotter.

He’s up on a ladder in the teen section, arms lifted overhead, shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of hard stomach and golden skin that’s going to star in my fantasies for a long time.

I have no business looking at this man the way I am.

But how am I supposed tonot?

His forearms flex every time he drills.

His thighs are thick. Powerful. Spread wide for balance, and now all I can think about is how they’d feel caging me.

The calluses on his hands make me wonder how they’d feel dragging down my stomach, gripping my hips, pushing my legs apart—

“Hi, Shanay.”

I jump so hard I drop a paperback on my foot.

It’s one of his crew, smiling at me.

I clear my throat and smile back. “Sorry. Zoned out.”

Mike glances over his shoulder.

Just one look.

One long, slow sweep of his eyes down my body and back up again…

I go up in flames.

“Watch it,” he mutters to the guy who startled me.

My knees go weak.

I need to get it together.

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