Buying the Underworld's Phantom King

"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.