Chapter Eighty

I said nothing, letting the moment linger. Letting his words hover between us, embracing them, holding on to them…getting addicted to them. To the underlying current of power in every syllable. To the smooth way he strung them all together and the way he never stopped to take a breath. To the inflection in the word ‘yours.’

Addicted to the way he didn’t have to think for a second about saying them.

Addicted to the way they were making me feel.

Safe. Warm. Cherished. Protected.

Owned.

I took a deep breath that shuddered through my body. The combination of his breath mingling with mine and the tingle of his palm against my neck was heady and intoxicating.

The dizzy from his words and the response they’d elicited inside me, I wanted to give in.

I wanted to tell him yes.

I wanted to tell him we could do that. That, despite our addictions, two opposite poles, we could make it work.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t—because I