Bought By Her Italian Boss. Dani Collins

those images back at the bank, how the world media was exploiting Gwyn’s naked body for ratings. He had looked at everything but her photographs, deliberately sparing her one more pair of male eyes and himself the disturbing dual reaction of arousal and fury.

      The thought that men around the world were licking their lips in lascivious heat over her figure was making him grow murderously affronted.

      So he didn’t appreciate her goading him.

      “They’re imprinted on my mind,” he said without apology, watching something tense and disturbed flash across her expression before she quelled it. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t mean that from a physical standpoint, but that’s true, as well.”

      She reacted with a startled stare of confused vulnerability.

      “That sounds almost kind. Are you practicing? Because there’s no one here to overhear you being nice to me.” Her mouth pouted in consternation, lips possibly trembling a moment before she firmed them.