Page 16 of Burned

She nods, admitting, “Yes.”

“Jealous?” I dare to ask.

Her eyes narrow.

Ah. There she is. My little spitfire, ready to erupt. “Careful,” she says.

I almost smile. Almost. Then I remember. “You crossed the boundary.”

“Oh, my God.” She jerks back, but I do not release her. “We’re back to that?”

“We never left it.”

She groans. “I was three feet past your precious woodpile.”

“You were disobedient,” I command.

She pulls away. “And you were secretive.”

“Yes. I was. Sometimes I have to be, to protect the ones I love.” That knocks some of the fight from her. “Yes,” I say. “I should have told you what Rafe found the moment he arrived.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I saw your blood last week, and something in me has not come back right since.”

The fire in her eyes softens. I don’t want softness. Not yet.

Softness will make me gentle, and I am not feeling gentle.

“I cannot lose you,” I say.

Her voice drops. “So, you’ll cage me?”

“If I have to.” Wrong answer. I know it as soon as the words leave my mouth.

Erin’s expression closes. “No.”

I slide one hand to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair. “No? No to what?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “You don’t get to make control sound romantic.”

“Aww, you think I’m romantic?”

“I think you’re being a controlling man.”

“No new information there, sweetheart.”

I grip her hair, not enough to hurt, enough to hold.

And maybe to hurt.

She gasps, confessing, “And I think part of me likes it too much.”

My entire body stills.

Erin swallows but does not look away.

“But not like this,” she whispers. “Not when you’re scared, and I’m hurt, and there’s a dead woman’s name between us.”