Page 148 of They Are Mine

She has no idea what she’s asking for.

I unlock the door, push it open, wait.

No hesitation. She steps inside.

I shut the door behind her.

She breathes in deep. And makes a soft, satisfied sound.

A quiet little purr.

Fucking hell.

I watch as she catalogs everything. Her mind is quick. Her eyes sharper than I expected. She does it the way I do when I enter a new space, putting things together, sorting them, understanding.

Her gaze flicks over the dark leather of my couch. The bookshelves. The neatness.

She takes me in like I’m a painting she’s studying.

She likes what she sees.

That’s good.

Because she hasn’t seen me yet.

Not really.

She turns, those wide, knowing eyes locking onto mine. “You have a lovely home, Elliot.”

She waits a beat. Lets the air go heavy. Lets the tension stretch just enough.

And then she tilts her chin just so. Her lips part, her lashes flutter just slightly. And she whispers, “Sir.”

Hell.

I nearly lose it.

It’s not just the word.

It’s the way she says it.

Like she’s been waiting.

Like she’s wanted to say it all night.

Like she knows exactly what it does to me.

I step toward her. Not fast. Not sudden.

Just close enough to watch her reaction.

Her breathing hitches.

She’s soft. So soft.

But not delicate.

She doesn’t flinch.

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