“Good,” he murmurs.
My stomach flips. “What?”
“I’d be bored if you did.”
Before I can respond, his hand lifts.
He doesn’t touch me.
But it’s close.
Tooclose.
My breath catches anyway.
“You don’t like being told what to do,” he says, voice low. “Then don’t make me tell you twice.”
My pulse spikes. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a promise.”
God.
This man.
I drag in a breath, trying to steady myself. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re still here.”
I hate that he keeps saying that.
Because it’s true.
Because I haven’t left.
Because something in me?—
Despite everything?—
Doesn’t want to.
“Fine,” I say finally. “Your rules. For now.”
His gaze flickers. Interest. Approval. Possession.
It sends heat crawling up my spine.
“Say it again,” he says.
My eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“Say it again,” he repeats. “So we’re clear.”
I stare at him. God, I want to fight him on this. Push back harder. Walk out just to prove I can. But the image of that photograph flashes in my mind.
The feeling of being watched.
Of not being alone.
