Page 193 of They Are Mine

I kiss her shoulder, her jaw, her cheek.

“You good, baby?” I murmur, voice rough.

She sighs, melting into me. Satisfied. Owned. “Mmm. More than good.” Her fingers trace lazy circles on my chest. “Think I’ll keep you.”

I chuckle, biting her lip.

“Oh, sweetheart.” I pull her against me. “You don’t have a fucking choice.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Juliet

Fucking Callum.

Every other man in my life, I studied. I shaped myself into exactly what they needed before they even knew they needed me. I planned. I prepared.

But Callum? Callum is anarchy in a t-shirt and jeans. He just plows through life, wrecking my carefully constructed order, and I let him.

I should be researching him properly. But no. Because I’m too busy dealing with the fucking Tammy issue.

Apparently, some nosy wannabe detective of a neighbor saw me at her place. Not the night she died, obviously. But one of the other times.

So now, I’m a person of interest.

Do they have proof? No.

Am I nervous? Also no. Because I can’t be. Because if I stop to think about how I’m going to make this go away, I might spiral.

I pull into Callum’s trailer park, prepared to break in, get answers about his past. Or his hobbies. Or why the hell I can’t get a read on him the way I do with everyone else.

Then, he texts me.

Callum: Key’s above the door, Madness. Come in.

As if. As fucking if.

If he wanted me inside, he should have answered the door like a normal person. Should have stood there, shirtless, smirking, flexing just a little because he knows I’m weak for his tattoos.

Or had the decency to let me do this my way.

But no.

He screws it up.

I give up.

Me: Fine. You get me as I am. I swear I could have been everything to you.

A second later, my phone pings.

Callum: You already are, Madness. You know that. Invite me to dinner.

I stare at the screen. This man.

He calls me Madness like it’s a love song. Like it means princess or sweetheart or mine.

I should tell him to fuck off.

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