Page 57 of On Edge

“So you grabbed a dinner knife?”

I bite my lower lip. “I thought I saw something. I got a fright.”

He snorts. “What am I going to do with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re like a pest, trapped under the floorboard, getting stuck and into trouble every bloody second. I didn’t ask for this.”

That’s not a very flattering comparison. It’s a horrible one, actually. “And you’re a beast. Grabbing me, tossing me about. There’s such a thing as personal space, you know.” I hiss at him.

His jaw clenches, and he leans in slightly, as if to make a point. But his grip feels as though it lightens a touch, even though I might have just made him even angrier. “Is that why you were in my office? And why were you wearing my sweater? Because you respect personal space so much?”

My cheeks warm at the accusation. I should say nothing to that. He’s right. But I refuse to back down. “I thought we were getting married.”

His eyes gleam in the darkness, his breathing deepens. “I see. So what’s mine is yours?”

I nod, though this feels like a trap, but I can’t see it.

“And is what’s yours also mine?”

Shoot. I walked right into that one.

“We’re not married yet.” I hate that I sound breathless.

“And yet”—his gaze flicks over me, tracing my lips, then my throat, and then drags down to the rest of me, making my heart jerk as it slams against my chest—“the contract clause you seem perfectly happy to hide behind says the opposite.”

“That’s not?—”

“You didn’t leave when I told you to.”

“Because….” I search for the right words.I can’t,doesn’t quite cut it.

“And you’re wearing my ring. That means…” He leans close, his breath warm on the shell of my ear. “Now Iownyou.”

I have nothing to say to that. What can I say? Any answer I give could make him change his mind, and so far, he seems to be letting me stay. But his words should terrify me. Instead,something dark and traitorous in my chest purrs at the claim, like a cat sinking into a comfy pillow.

I shove that thought away, hopefully into some dark recess of my mind. I can’t let his man’s pretty looks distract me. I have to let him read into that what he wants. Even if that means letting him do what he wants, when he wants….

He pulls back, enough for me to see the green in his eyes, and takes me in. However, it feels like I’m being cut open, like every part of me, my thoughts and prayers, are flayed apart for him to see.

Even my desires.

My body trembles as my lower half tightens again, and then again. The feel of him on top of me, the feeling of being trapped, unable to escape, his breath on my skin, should be too much. But it’s not.

I don’t want to feel this way about him.Not my sister’s killer.

But I can’t get that kiss out of my head.

“No. Please…”

“What are you begging me for? Your life? You already gave me that, little finch.” There’s no smile on his lips, no amusement. He looks just like the villain in the story you don’t want to root for.

I couldn’t care less about my life right now. But I would die of shame if he knew just how much I’m…likingthis.

Oh God, something is really wrong with me.

“Please. Just let me go.”