Page 183 of They Are Mine

I don’t.

Because Callum doesn’t know it yet, but I was never going to flinch.

I chew slowly, swallow, and finally tilt my head.

“You been a stalker long?” he asks, grinning like this is fun for him.

I narrow my eyes, flipping a page. “Do you have a notebook?”

His grin widens. “Should I?”

“No, because I’m the one asking questions here,” I say.

He laughs.

And fuck.

I feel it on my clit.

That low, rumbling, arrogant laugh that says he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“You’re crazy in a cute kind of way,” he says.

Like I’m some kind of amusement. A novelty. Like he could just pick me up and play with me, and then put me down when he’s had his fun.

I tap my pen against my notebook. “How many times have you been arrested?”

“Enough.” He pops a fry in his mouth. “How many times have you done this?”

I exhale sharply. “Enough.”

His eyes flicker, full of amusement. “And has anyone ever ruined it like me?”

I snap my notebook shut. “No.”

He laughs again. “Yeah? That bad, huh?”

“You don’t get me at my best, and that’s a problem,” I say.

“I’m a problem,” he agrees, voice a lazy drawl. He drags his gaze down my body, then back up to meet my eyes. “But you like me.”

I shift in my chair. Annoyed. Turned on.

“I don’t even know yet,” I snap. “Because I wasn’t given the chance to do this the right way.”

“The right way.” He leans back, smirking. “And how’s that supposed to go?”

“I watch. I learn. I find out exactly what you need before you ever know you need it. I become your perfect woman before you even get the chance to say no,” I say.

His brows lift. “Shit. That’s dedication.”

“I don’t like rejection, Callum. I don’t fail.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Goddamn. You must be one hell of a woman.”

“I am.” I say.

His grin is pure sin. “And you’re collecting men?”

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