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I froze, narrowing my eyes at him, my cheeks and neck flushing hot. “If you think I want to have sex with you right now you have another goddamn thing coming.”
We had a kitchen table between us, which was probably a good thing, because I wanted to smack him upside the head so badly.
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Do I enjoy being called weird pet names and having a strange man tell me—in front of my boyfriend—that he wants to have sex with me? No, you unbelievable idiot. No. It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and wildly inappropriate. But why do you think I brought you along? Do you think it was because I wanted to rub your face in his interest? I know he wants to sleep with me. He’s told me like a thousand times. So I brought you with me so you wouldn’t be sitting here, knowing he was saying that, and getting mad about it because you weren’t there. I was trying to do the right thing!”
He growled.
“Don’t get like that.” I took my jacket off and hung it on the back of one of the chairs. “I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings here, Wilder, I’m really not. I thought I was doing what you’d want, but apparently you’d rather be left to your imaginings instead of seeing it in person.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Argh.” I balled my hands into my hair. This was hardly the first time I’d had a fight with a boyfriend, and it wasn’t even the first time I’d had a fight with Wilder, but it really wasn’t the best time for me to have to add personal issues to my growing roster of troubles. “I don’t want to have sex with Santiago. I want to have sex with you, and only you, maybe the exception of Oscar Isaac if opportunity allowed, so can you please just drop this?”
Wilder, who right up until that moment had been almost vibrating with rage, took a step back from the table and gave me an appraising look. “Oscar Isaac?”
“Oh like you wouldn’t want to bang Poe Dameron given the chance.” I still sounded mad, but it’s pretty hard to be convincingly furious when you’re talking about having sex with Star Wars characters.
“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like this. But that guy just sets me totally on edge. As much as I hate to say it, maybe I shouldn’t be with you when you see him.”
“If I had my way I’d never need to ask for his help again, but unfortunately we seem to keep finding ourselves in situations where having a witch on speed dial is beneficial.”
The elevated emotions that had made the small kitchen feel even more hot and cramped than usual started to dissipate, and I could breathe normally again.
“You know I didn’t bring you with me just to push your buttons, right?” I wanted to go over to him and hold him, but I was still frustrated with him for how easily he’d let Santiago get under his skin. Those two feelings were at war with each other and kept me rooted on the spot.
“I know.”
“And you know you don’t get anything resolved by getting mad at me about him, right?”
Wilder nodded.
“And you know I don’t belong to you.”
He crossed the room so quickly it was as if he hadn’t moved at all. One second I was by the table, and the next he had scooped me up and lifted me onto the kitchen counter, his body nestled between my legs as if he had been born the exact perfect shape to fit there. A little gasp of surprise escaped my lips.
He pressed his lips to the smooth line of skin below my ear and whispered. “You do belong to me.” He balled his hands on my shirt, pulling me closer to him, and dragged his mouth from my ear to my lips where he said. “You are mine and no one else’s.” A little growl escaped him, vibrating against my mouth, and a shudder rolled up my spine and made goose bumps spread all over my body.
I should not think this was as hot as it was. I was a feminist goddamnit. Belonging to someone else was such an outdated, idiotic concept.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I whispered.
But it wasn’t exactly true, was it? I belonged to my pack, something they’d never let me forget, because they needed me. I belonged to Ben, to Callum, to Secret, to Magnolia and the whole family I’d chosen. I belonged to so many people.
He held my chin in place and forced me to look up at him. “You are mine. I am yours. We belong to each other.”
I stared into his eyes, those complicated hazel pools with their flecks of gold. I tried to drink in the perfection of his too-beautiful face, the jawline so sharp it could cut diamonds, the mouth carved by the gods solely for me to kiss, and I tried to imagine life without him.
I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t.
I thought of the way he’d looked at me that first day we met, on the side of the highway, when he’d attached my dented car to his tow truck. He’d worn greasy overalls and a look of pure challenge. The same look he was giving me now, as if he was waiting for me to deny his statement.
I found that I didn’t want to.
“You are mine,” I said against his lips. “Mine.”
I felt him smile because I was too close to see it. His arms snaked around my waist, and all I could feel was the perfect warm comfort of his embrace. I kissed him softly, because this was not the time for anything more, but I melted into him, the smell and sensation of his nearness, and it was so, so right.
