Page 99 of Heartbeats & Highways

I frowned. “You’re upset because I hugged someone else?”

“I’m upset because I’m jealous,” he stated, looking at me, a wry smile finally crossing his face. “And I’veneverbeen jealous over anyone.”

“You have no reason to be jealous,” I stated. “Yesterday I wanted chocolate milk, and we didn’t have any. Roman bought a carton for me today. That’s why I hugged him. That’s all.”

He let out a groan.

“What?” I demanded. “What did I say?”

“I’m a complete ass. I know it. But now I’m jealous that he brought you something just because you wanted it. I wish it had been me.”

“You didn’t know,” I said. “And you can’t be responsible for seeing to every one of my needs.”

“I can sure as hell try,” he growled.

“Savage,” I began, reaching out and cradling his cheek in my hand. I ran a finger across his stubble. The feel of it against my skin caused me to shiver in pleasure. “Roman views me as a little sister. Like he sees Brielle. And I see him, Virgil, and Homer in a fraternal light. Okay?”

He turned his head and kissed my palm. “Okay.”

“I only want you.”

“You want me?”

I met his bold gaze and nodded.

He sighed and kissed my palm again before taking it in his own hand. “This is new territory for me.”

“What is?”

“Feeling possessive.”

Nerves skated through my belly. “Randall was a possessive man. I’m not sure how I feel about you being possessive, too.”

He squeezed my hand and let it go. “This is my own shit. You don’t need to worry about me being like your husband.”

I nodded and finally buckled myself in.

“I have an idea,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Tonight, we’ll order in. And after dinner, I’ll get on my knees and beg your forgiveness.”

“On your knees, huh?”

“With my tongue between your legs.” He grinned wickedly.

I pressed the start button for him. “What are you waiting for?”

“Tell me about your childhood,” Savage commanded as he dug his thumb into the arch of my left foot.

I flipped the page of the baby book I was reading and pretended I hadn’t heard him.

When I didn’t reply, he pressed his finger between the book and forced it lower.

I looked at him. “Sorry, did you ask me something?”

“I asked about your childhood.”

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