“So, I see you're not exactly drooling over Mr. Masked, huh, Maya?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, laced with an undercurrent of possessiveness. His gaze, however, shamelessly dipped back to her chest.
Her n*****s were hard, clearly from the cold—but his stare made it feel dirty, intimate. His jaw clenched like he was holding back more than just words. He finally let go of her arms.
“Asshole,” Maya spat, yanking the duvet tighter around her body, heat spreading across her cheeks, not just from embarrassment, but from a rising flame of fury. “You’ve got a staring problem.”
Before she could lash out further, his smirk faltered. His expression twitched, his eyes clouding, distant. It was an urgent mind link from his Beta.
Without a word, his grip loosened from her wrist. His eyes
