"No." I shake my head. "You're controlling me. There's a difference."
He takes a step toward me, and I hold up my hand. "Don't."
He stops, his eyes dark and intense. "Emma?—"
"I need you to leave."
Silence.
The words hang between us like a blade.
"What?" His voice is low with an exaggerated calm that’d make a bad guy pee himself.
It isn’t going to work on me. I look him in the eye. "I need you to go back to Blackthorn and give me some time to think, Jake."
"You're kicking me out."
"I'm asking you to respect my boundaries." I keep my voice steady even though my heart is pounding. "I need you to understand that I'm not your possession. I'm your partner, and partners make decisions together."
His hands clench into fists at his sides. He stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
Then he nods once. Sharp. Final. "Fine."
He walks past me into the bedroom, grabs his jeans and boots, and dresses in silence.
I watch from the doorway. “Maybe you could send me the plans for what you want to install, along with the costs.”
He scowls at me. “You’re not paying for?—"
“It’s my ranch, and I’ll pay for it,” I override him. I start to unbutton the shirt.
His gaze drops to my chest. “What are you doing, Emma?”
“Giving you your shirt back.” I slip it off my shoulders and hold it out for him.
His hot gaze lingers on my naked body, visceral enough that my nipples harden like he’d trailed his hands over them. He saunters toward me, taking the shirt and shrugging it on. He buttons it slowly, staring at me the whole time. “Is this a tactical diversion?”
I lift a shoulder. “Is it diverting?”
“Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head.
“Do I come to your place tonight?” I stretch against the door. Taunting him? Oh yeah. “Or are you coming back here?”
“My place,” he says, his voice rough. “My feet dangle off your bed.”
“I’ll text before I head over.” I glance down at his crotch. He’s clearly hard. “You going to be okay?”
Eyes narrowed, he leans down and kisses me—hard, possessive, claiming—then strides down the stairs without another word.
I hear the front door open and close.
The sound of his truck starting.
I head to take a shower, wondering if that bit of independence is going to bite me in the ass later.
If it’s Jake doing the biting, I don’t mind.
52
