Page 78 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

That does it. The clothes slip out of my hands, hit the floor, and I’m moving. My hands come up around his neck, pulling him down. I kiss him because I don’t have anything else to give him in that moment. He grabs my waist, pulling me in closer, and I feel it all the way through me.

“Thank you,” I whisper when I pull back, my forehead brushing his.

“You’re welcome.”

My hands are tucked into my lap instead of wrapped around the steering wheel. It feels wrong not driving my own car, but he didn’t even give me the option.

He took the keys right out my hands, locked the house, and told me I was his passenger princess. I have to admit that made me laugh. I glance over at him, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loose against his thigh.

“You know,” I say, shifting slightly in my seat, “I’m starting to think this whole ‘you relax’ thing isn’t about me.”

He glances over at me briefly. “No?”

I shake my head, watching him. “No. I think you have control issues.”

His mouth twitches. “That so?”

“Yeah,” I say, leaning back against the seat. “You took my keys without even asking. That’s not concern. That’s a personality trait.”

That gets a huff out of him, but he doesn’t argue it. It’s all the confirmation I need. I let it sit for a second, watching the road stretch out in front of us, the sign for Britten Valley coming closer, and I tilt my head, studying him again.

“Speaking of things that make no sense,” I say, “you wanna explain something to me?”

“Depends,” he says. “Am I gonna like it?”

“Probably not.”

He exhales through his nose. “Go ahead.”

I cross one leg over the other. “You and Luca.”

“What about him?”

“You’re cousins.”

He nods once. “Yeah.”

“Not only cousins,” I continue. “First cousins.”

Another nod. “Yeah.”

I stare at him for a beat. “And you make him call you boss.”

There’s a pause.

“It’s work,” he says finally. “It keeps things clear. It’s easier that way.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Clear? He grew up with you.”

“And at work, I’m his boss.”

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “That is so weird.”

He glances over at me again, this time with a little more expression. “It works.”

“Do you make him do it at family dinners too?” I ask. “Like, what, he passes you the potatoes and goes, ‘Here you go, boss’?”

That does it. His mouth actually curves.