“Why you doin’ this to me?”
Voice shredded,
he’s barely keeping it together.
It’s not a question but a plea. A confession.
I inch my palm up his hard, heaving chest.
“I told you what this was. You walked into the fire thinkin' you could change the rules, now you're mad it burns? Startin' to think I was right about you. Can't stand anyone else touchin’ what you think is yours.”
My eyes lift to his.
“You always this obsessed,
“or only with me?”
A muscle pulses in his jaw.
His fingers sink deeper into the stone
to hold on to keep him from snapping.
He’s vibrating, the space between us screaming for a break or kiss.
I could knock him off the cliff right now.
And he knows it.
“Yeah. I’m obsessed with you.
“Now ask me if I give a fuck,” he grits out,
pulse hammering his throat.
“You love pushin’ me, huh?
“Think this shit’s funny.”
His shirt’s wrinkled,
collar yanked,
breath uneven.
I lift my chin,
my lips so close to his I can feel his breath.
“I think it’s interesting.”
His mouth parts,
a tortured breath dragging out rough.
He’s seconds from losing his fucking mind.
But before he can,
