I nodded. “We could discuss it in your office?”
He laughed that time, a short bark that was not entirely displeasing, if a little unexpected.
I tilted my head. “That’s funny?”
His face returned to normal. “Yeah, babe. That’s hilarious. I may enjoy takin’ risks, but I’m not suicidal. Taking Keltan’s girl into my office when she asks a ‘favor’ is nothing short of.”
I frowned. “I’m not Keltan’s girl,” I argued.
He didn’t respond, just stared.
I invented that response, so it pissed me off. “I’m not Keltan’s girl,” I repeated. His eyes flickered to the door, but I was rather impatient to get this point across. “I’m so far from being Keltan’s girl that the concept is out of this realm. I’m here for work.”
There was a long pause, silent enough for me to hear the swinging of the door.
I had a bad feeling about the swinging of the door, and the sudden energy in the room.
“Work? And what work would have you coming to the very place of work of the man who you not only accused of stalking you, but just said isn’t yours, despite what your mouth said on the hood of your car two nights ago?” an even voice asked.
The corner of Heath’s mouth twitched.
“Keltan may not be a good shot, but trust me, I am,” I muttered to him before turning.
Keltan was mirroring his buddy, his arms crossed, legs wide. I was in a masculine stance sandwich, and I wasn’t even enjoying it.
Okay, I was enjoying it a little.
But that was the problem.
“I was here to talk to Heath,” I stated.
“No, she wasn’t,” the traitor said from behind me.
Keltan was still for a beat, and then he wasn’t, his hand fastened around my bicep. He didn’t stop or slow his stride, which meant I had to move my feet if I didn’t want to get dragged along behind him.
“Let me go, Keltan,” I requested in an even voice. I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by shrieking or shouting even though I itched too.
Keltan ignored me, my heels clicking as I transitioned from the plush carpet to hardwood floors. We passed a variety of doors before he opened one and yanked me inside, slamming it behind us.
I didn’t have time to even look at the office I had been manhandled into, on account of being pressed against the door, Keltan’s hands on either side of my face, body against mine.
“Keltan,” I warned icily. “Step back.”
The strength I had originally hoped for in my tone fell a little short thanks to my quick breaths cutting through the words. Despite the anger, the fury at his caveman actions, it was a lot more complicated when his body was pressed against mine, his scent everywhere as fury mirroring mine danced in his eyes.
“Not mine?” he clipped, his voice dangerously low.
I stared at him. “What?”
“That’s what you said, Snow. You’re not mine.”
The words were empty in the same way mine were. Still on the surface. Flat to the outside observer.
But I knew better.
I could taste the storm that lingered beneath the still.
Chaos recognized chaos, after all.
And I had a feeling the storm was about to blow through and level anything and everything in its path.
The worst thing was I wanted nothing more than that.
“Because I’m not,” I told him.
His eyes flared. “Yeah? I don’t own this?” His hand trailed down my neck, ghosting over my collarbone, then across the side of my breast and down my hip.
The trail of fire left in the wake of his touch had my breath already coming in strangled pants. My panties were utter history. Had been the moment the door slammed.
“No, you don’t. No one does,” I whispered, eyes never leaving his. “People can’t belong to people.” If there ever was a time to quote Holly Golightly, it was in that moment.
His jaw hardened. “You think that, babe. But I owned this—” His hand trailed up, brushing my breast once more before settling over my collarbone where my pounding heart vibrated against his hand—. “—from the fuckin’ moment my lips touched yours outside that coffee shop.” His eyes were anchors, pulling me under. “People may not belong to people, but you’re not people. Never were. You were always more. Always mine.”
His breath hot on my face, I was drowning in everything that was his presence, but sense still filtered to the surface. “I didn’t know you then. You didn’t know me. How could you own me? That’s insane,” I panted.
His eyes searched mine. “What’s insane is you owned me from the moment you said you could protect your own honor. That made me want to make sure that job was mine and always mine,” he rasped. He didn’t relinquish his hold on me, with his hands or his eyes. “Being owned by someone isn’t a death sentence. Being owned by me means I’m gonna make sure you have the best life anyone can give you. ‘Cause that’s all I’m gonna give you—the best.” His hand flexed at my hip in a way that sent rockets of pleasure through every inch of my body. “First I have to fuck the sense into you.”