I barely have time to steady my breathing before he’s above me.
Right over me.
One hand plants beside my head, the other finds my neck.
Enough that I feel it immediately—the weight of it, the control in it, the way his thumb drags slow over my pulse like he’s tracking every single reaction I can’t hide.
And I can’t hide anything from him.
“There it is,” he murmurs.
My chest rises again, betraying me.
"Your jealousy turns me on." I admit to him.
His gaze lifts to mine—dark, locked in, like I’ve already stepped too far and he’s not letting me take it back.
“Does it?” he asks quietly.
I swallow.
“Yes. Would you like me to repeat it?”
“Your jealousy turns me on.” I repeat.
His thumb stills against my throat just for a second.
Then it moves again.
A quiet breath leaves him, al
