“The suit. Did she choose it?”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightens again.
“Do you let her choose everything for you?”
“No.”
“She doesn’t know you.”
“You don’t know me either,” I say hesitantly, questioning if Ethan does really know me.
“I know what you want.”
“You don’t.”
“I know what you are.”
He steps closer again until we’re inches apart.
“You’re starving,” he says huskily. “You mistake passive affectionfor nourishment.”
“I don’t…that’s not how it is.”
“You make yourself small so other people feel secure.”
I look away, not liking him holding up the mirror of truth in front of my face. He catches my chin with a firm and rough grip, forcing me to look at him.
“Do not try to make me jealous again,” he says.
“I wasn’t, Ethan.”
“You were.”
“I didn’t plan anything.”
“Your instincts did.”
His thumb presses lightly under my jaw, tilting my face up. The contact of his skin on mine burns.
“I don’t like to share what I’m investing in.”
“I’m not something you own. Stop talking about me like that.”
His gaze darkens as he leans in and buries his face in my neck, inhaling deeply, igniting millions of goosebumps to pop up and say hi down my neck.
“You are something I’mbuilding. To keep for the future. I own you.”
I want to groan out loud when he says shit like that, which is fucked up. Nobody owns another person. But the more he talks like this, the more I feel wanted and to fall into this vat of toxic lust.
“This is wrong,” I whisper.
“No, it’s your destiny, Leo.”
He releases me abruptly and steps back, where he straightens his sleeves, composing himself like nothing happened.
“You should return to the party,” he says. “Your wife will notice your absence.”
