“Stop. Don’t go.”
Her breath caught. “Let me go.”
“No.” His voice was low. “Your story was not finished.”
She shook her head, blinking fast. “No, you do not want to hear it. You?—”
“I do.” He hesitated, then added, more gently, “Iwishto know more.”
His grip loosened, not quite letting go.
She shook her head. “No, you do not. You?—”
“Your story was not finished. We have not finished and?—”
She looked down at their hands, her pulse racing beneath his fingertips.
“Yes, we are.”
“Not until you listen.” He stood up as well and towered over her. “Like it or not, we’re bound together now. Not just by law, but by that child upstairs. We need to find a way to coexist.”
“Coexist?” She laughed bitterly. “Is that your grand solution? We’ll coexist? Like furniture in the same room?”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“Destroying each other.”
“We won’t destroy each other!” She yanked her arm free easily because now her anger flared hot and bright and it fueled the interaction. “I have no intention of throwing things or screaming or making your life miserable. But I won’t be furniture either. I won’t sit quietly while you treat me like an inconvenience to be managed.”
“I don’t think you’re an inconvenience.”
“No? Then what am I?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Something shifted in his expression, and she could detect a crack in that eternal control. His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered there for a heartbeat before returning to her eyes.
The air between them suddenly felt charged and heavy with unspoken words.
“You’re…”
“What?” She stepped closer without meaning to, drawn by that flash of vulnerability. His scent surrounded her, so masculine and inviting. “What am I to you, husband?”
“Dangerous.”
She winced. She’d expected many things—dismissal, perhaps, or another cold deflection. But not this raw honesty that seemed torn from somewhere deep inside him.
She blinked and tried to process what she’d just heard. “Dangerous?”
Owen’s hands clenched at his sides, and she saw the war playing out across his features. Whatever walls he’d built were cracking, and it terrified him. The realization sent a strange thrill through her; she affected him. Despite his coldness, despite the careful distance, she had the power to unsettle him.
“How?” The question came out breathier than she intended. “How am I dangerous to you?”
His hands rose to cup her face. They were warm and rough and reverent all at once.
Her breath hitched. That simple touch undid something in her. It loosened the tight braid of restraint she’d clung to for days.
“You make me forget myself,” he said hoarsely. “Forget what I said I’d never want. Never need.”
