Dark Island Scots by Jolie Vines

 I wanted him. He wanted to ruin me.
It was the blood I noticed first. Running down the neck of the man on the ferry.
Then his bruised knuckles, dark eyes, and arrogant smirk.
The handcuffs came last.
No one else paid him attention, but I couldn’t look away. Or deny my instant lust.
I had no idea he was being imprisoned on the remote, dark Scottish island I knew well.
Or that he’d been kidnapped, not arrested.
I went from that naïve girl on the boat, dreaming of stolen kisses, to the one who held the key to his prison cell.
When heat turns to hate, all that’s left is ruin.