“You like chili.” He blinked a few times.
“I’m not in the mood for anything hot now. Just make it plain. Add more basil.”
He held my gaze, and those blue, blue eyes took me in with worry. I stood up, and he flinched.
“Where are you going?”
“To get the salad.” I pointed to the fridge. “I could make salad.”
I moved to the fridge and opened the door. There was a bunch of vegetables I could use in there, but I went for simple and grabbed a head of iceberg lettuce and a couple of heirloom tomatoes. Gigi always put those in our salads.
Warm hands slipped around my waist, and Luc pulled me flush against his chest.
“I changed my mind. I want you for dinner instead,” he cooed against my ear in a harsh, rough voice.
I put the vegetables back and turned in his arms. “You just spent over an hour fixing up for pizza.”
“But you don’t want it.”
“I never said that, and I do. I love your cooking.”
“At least that’s one thing good about me, right? You love my cooking, and I’m like a dog with mange you can’t cut lose.”
“Why are you saying that?”
He released me and moved back to the counter.
“Luc,” I prodded.
He looked at me, regarding me with that stern expression I hated. I decided I hated it because I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“How was Sinclaire?” He sneered.
I’d been wondering when he was going to ask me about that.
“Fine.”
“Yeah, is that right? I’ll bet he just loved to hear his precious Amelia Taylor tell him how muchshe’s always trusted him wholeheartedly.”
God. I’d seen him jealous before, but this was him hyped up on jealousy and worry. It made him act irrational.
“Luc, he’s a friend.”
“You kiss your friends? Come on, Amelia, he wasn’t just a friend. When did you stop sleeping with him?”
I blinked several times and continued to stare at him. I couldn’t talk to him when he was like this. No way.
It was better if we didn’t talk.
Deciding just that, I turned and walked away. He caught me before I could go through the door, grabbing my arm.
“Let go of me.” I wiggled my arm free of his grasp, but I stayed there in front of him.
“Don’t go.” Now he sounded scared.
“I can’t stay here with you acting like some crazy person, and how dare you speak to me like that? Don’t you ever speak to me like that again, or the way you did earlier. I don’t know who you think I am, but don’t do it. I hate it. I hate taking orders, and I don’t want you ordering me around and asking me shit like if I slept with Sinclaire.” Heat burned my cheeks, and my stomach clenched. “I didn’t sleep with him, and if I did, it wouldn’t have been any of your business because I wouldn’t have done something like that when we were together. So, don’t, and don’t act like some saint, because you aren’t.”
He hung his head in shame and bit the inside of his lip. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Loving you is making me crazy.”
