Before she could even finish her sentence, Wyatt Quinn smothered her with a torrent of kisses.
The more she struggled, the deeper and more fiercely he kissed her.
Quinn Morgan felt her tongue grow numb from his relentless assault.
She was left breathless from the kiss.
She pushed and beat against him, but he was as solid as a mountain; her hands began to ache, yet he remained completely unfazed.
Tears of frustration streamed down Quinn Morgan's face.
Wyatt Quinn tasted her salty tears, and only then did his kisses pause for a moment.
He straightened up, annoyed, and sat back in his seat, panting heavily to quell the fire raging within him.
In a foul mood, he shoved the car door open and got out, standing by a nearby garden to smoke a cigarette.
After finishing his cigarette, he turned back, opened the car door, and looked at Quinn Morgan, whose hair was now a mess. "Don't you have an international conference call to get to? Aren't you getting out?"
