“Mm. If you stop, I’ll sue.” Her words, muffled against my chest.
“You can’t sue me for pausing.”
“Watch me. Emotional distress. Loss of service.”
“You’re very dramatic for someone freeloading on my lungs.” My fingers kept moving. Scalp to ends. “And you know I don’t do half-measures. If I stop, it’s permanent.”
“Threatening to cut off head pats is abuse. There are laws.” She half pouted.
“Write them. I’ll ignore them.”
She tipped her head, studying me instead of my chest.
“You look very serious. Whats wrong?” Her thumb rubbed over a link of my chain.
“You ever going to answer a question straight?” My gaze held hers.
“That would be wildly off-brand.” Two fingertips tapped my chest. “You first. What are you plotting, Vincent Crow?”
I took a sigh. Now or never, crow.
“I want more.” The words came out harder than I’d planned.
She frowned. “Of head pats? Because I feel like your output has been acceptable, contractually speaking.”
“More with you.”
“Oh.” Her mouth parted. “More how? Because my people tell me that’s usually when men launch into a speech about labels, and I’m morally obligated to warn you I have… concerns about us and brunch.”
My fingers tightened in her hair. “Not brunch. Not that kind of label.”
“You don’t want um… boyfriend-girlfriend?” The words came out soft, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
“No.”
My thumb traced her jaw, slow. The line between her brows threatened to come back.
“You don’t want that, or you don’t want it with me?” Her hand loosened on my chain.
“I want more than that. Not less.”
“Define more?”
Deep breath. No way to make it sound smaller than it was.
“You remember what I told you about my tendencies? Control. Hypervigilance. How I get when I care about something.” My thumb stayed at her jaw, grounding both of us
“You mean how you go full Crow warlord if someone breathes near your port manifest wrong? Vaguely.” The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Yeah. That. I don’t do halfway, Madeline. Not with anything. Especially not with people.”
“You’re… worried you’ll overstep?”
“I know I will if I don’t have structure. If I’m guessing where the lines are while every part of me is screaming to lock down your schedule, your security, your food, sleep, inbox. I can’t live in maybe.”
Color rose under her skin.
“So what does more look like in Vince language?”
