Бренда Джойс

She tensed, aware of the incredible difference between his passions. “I will never believe that you commit pleasure crimes.” Was she deluding herself? She’d felt this lust before, when they’d first met after her rescue from the gang. “Hold still,” she said, and she poured what looked like scotch over his raw torso. The lust was making her ill, but the desire made her heart race. He grunted. “Are ye jealous of the women I’ll take to my bed tonight?”