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Fiddle
Shane’s heated breath fanned my cheek. My soft curves melded against his chiseled one and I forgot how to breathe. My mourning heart skipped a beat—his words shoved life into my dying soul. I’ve spent the last 24 hours yearning for him and wishing for nothing more than his love and affection. Even with everything that has happened in the last day, hope blossomed in my chest. I should have known better, but I was a glutton for punishment. Shane had a tendency to throw me a bone, only to yank it away before I could sink my teeth into it. I was stupid, but as I fought the tears from escaping, I knew it was hopeless. I was hopeless.
Hopelessly devoted to a man who plays me like a fucking fiddle.
Even as my heart begged I bow down to him. The glare in his gaze and the possessiveness in his words, the wounds he’d inflicted ran deep. Too fucking deep. He’d just killed one of my good friends and was unapo
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