Elena’s POV

His shirt is gone and the body under it tells a story I wasn't prepared for.

Scars across his ribs, bullet wound healed smooth on his shoulder, and tattoos crawling up his sides in black ink that I can't read in the dim light.

The tailored cartel boss who sat on the edge of the bed with his gold watch and his composure is gone.

The man standing over me is raw, and breathing hard, and the hunger in his black eyes has burned through whatever leash he was keeping on himself.

He pulls the chain with force and I'm on my feet. My legs barely hold. His...