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“Or what if letting someone in,” I argue, “like in your case, leads to heartbreak.”
He goes quiet.
He’s done so much for me and here, it seems I keep causing him trouble. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, you’re right. It’s a risk. But you’re a brave girl.” He sits back in his seat. “Besides, I might not be giving you the choice much longer.”
“What do you mean?” I glance over at him.
“Because.” He rests the back of his head against the headrest of his seat. Closing his eyes, he runs a hand over his brow. “I’m going to end up killing every man that touches you.”
His words are like steel, hard and cold, but they make me giggle for some unfathomable reason.
“Seriously?” I say. “First you kidnap me to take me to some couples-only retreat, then you threaten to kill any man who comes in contact with me?”
“Careful. My Plan C is a convent. There’s a precious little nunnery on the mainland, just a five-minute boat ride from the Parrish. Those nuns owe me a favor. They’d have to take you in.”
I try to picture myself in the black-and-white habit the nuns at my primary school wore and it only makes me break out into another fit of giggles. “A nun. Me? Can you imagine? Hey, that gives me an idea for a scene—”
The fury of his growl stifles my laughter.
He cracks the knuckles of his right hand. “I cannot watch, talk about, or even think about you being in one of those playrooms, Kylie. I swear to God. I’m ready to commit murder.”
I feel bad. He’s really struggling with the idea of me with other men. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding it. His eyes are still closed, the back of his head resting against his seat. I take the opportunity to stare at the lines and angles of his face, his strong jawline, the dark hair framing his face as it curls just a touch at the ends.
He’s beautiful.
He’s beautiful and sexy and he wants me. All to himself. I just don’t know if I can give him what he wants.
“Cannon,” I say.
“Yes.”
He’s done so much for me, I need to give back to him. Can I? “What if… we just play pretend for a bit. Ease into it. Take this trip of yours. And pretend.”
“Pretend to be together?” he asks.
“Sure. Why not.”
I’ve had so much fun taking on roles and playing lately, why not play this game? Let him have a taste of what he wants, enjoy the trip.
His voice chills me, his dark eyes going black as they flash at me. “A game? Do I look like a man who plays games? We’ve reached a point of no return. Either you’re mine, or I’m going to make you mine. No more games. No more playing around.”
He doesn’t allow me to answer, claiming my mouth with his. The heat of his kiss burns through me, and I realize I have been playing a game this whole time: playing with fire.
How can I win and not get burned in the process?
When we exit the jet, he holds my hand in his with a possessive, domineering energy. He’s made his decision. He’s going to make me his and his alone.
We’ve landed on a private landing strip at a small brick airport, the property surrounded by a beautiful wall made of white and gray stone. His bicep flexes as he draws me in closer to his side as we step onto the black, paved tarmac, reminding me just how big and powerful he is.
Will I let him make me his, or will I fight him? We both have fire in us, but his guns are quite a bit bigger than mine. Still, dynamite comes in a small package, doesn’t it?
“Kylie. Did you hear what I said?” He gives my hand a reprimanding tug.
I’m buried so deep in my thoughts involving bad metaphors I didn’t hear him speak. “Sorry, no.”
“Look,” he says. “Over there. The women have come to welcome you.”
