Savage Stalkers (Masked Men #9)

Silas

My hands won’t stop fucking shaking. Though I clench them into fists and press them hard against my thighs, the tremors keep coming. The image of that asshole’s hands on Skye—touching what’s mine, claiming what he has no right to even look at—burns behind my eyelids every time I blink.

I can still feel the satisfying give of his throat under my palm, and I replay the way his eyes widened with shock when he realized he’d fucked with the wrong person.

Part of me wishes I hadn’t pulled away, and that same part wanted to keep squeezing until his entitled smirk was permanently wiped from his face.