“Leone stop,” Chloe whispered sharply as his hand pinned hers against the cold marble countertop of the empty Everett's guesthouse kitchen. “This isn't the time.”

Leone smirked, his face inches from hers, voice low and smooth.

“When is the time, then, Chloe? Because these days, anytime we're alone you burn and you know it.”

Chloe's pulse raced. “You think I came here for this? I told you we needed to talk.”

“You mean complain.” He stepped back slightly. Letting her slip ...