“But should you even be jealous, Jeremy?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended, but still edged. “I mean… I’m not your girlfriend or anything. So why should you get jealous over who I talk to, or about who I end up talking to?”
He didn’t answer right away. And as the car came to a halt at a traffic light on red, slowly he turned his head toward me. His eyes were dark, intense, like I’d just challenged him to a fight. “You’re mine, Bella,” he said, low and rough, each word landing like a claim carved in stone. “So everything about you is my business. Who you talk to, who talks to you; whoever even breathes too close to you. Every damn thing.” His hand slid from the gearshift to my thigh, his warm palm pressing firmly against my skin. Heat surged through me instantly, pooling low in my
