Page 178 of They Are Mine

“Do you have a house?” I demand, narrowing my eyes.

His expression shifts. Like he genuinely wasn’t expecting that question. Like I’ve thrown him. Which is unacceptable, because I am not supposed to be the unpredictable one here.

“You really screwed this up, Callum,” I say, shaking my head.

His grin goes lazy. His body goes loose. A cheetah, stretching in the sun, knowing damn well it can take me down in one pounce.

“This?” he asks, rolling his shoulders as he starts circling me. Fucking circling me.

Oh.

Oh.

I know that look.

That’s the I will ruin you look.

The I will take my time and break you down, piece by piece, and smile while I do it look.

And goddamn it.

I wish he hadn’t spoken to me yet.

Because now.

Now I want him.

Not just sexually.

I want him studied.

I want him cataloged.

I want him prepared and served on a silver fucking platter.

But instead?

I am standing here, flustered as fuck, trying to recover.

“In order,” he murmurs, voice dropping just enough to make my skin prickle. “I’m here because some asshole died.”

Okay, so we’re here for the same reason.

Interesting.

“Yeah, I’ll eat with you.” A slow smile pulls across his mouth.

Oh.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

Not the kind I planned for.

The other kind.

The Callum kind.

He takes one step closer. “I have a trailer,” he adds. “Does that count as a house?”

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