Page 168 of The Dark Stranger

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Like I belong to him.

I should be angry.

Should tell him he doesn't get to decide that.

But instead, I just watch him.

Really watch him.

The way he's careful with me. The way he adjusts his pace to match mine. The way he's attentive to my pain without making a big deal of it. The way he answers my questions directly, respects my intelligence, includes me in the operation even though I'm injured.

He's not trying to control me.

He's trying to protect me.

And there's a difference.

A big one.

I realize it suddenly, like a switch flipping in my brain.

He's not Izzy.

He's not trying to own me or manipulate me or use me.

He's terrified of losing me.

And that terror—that raw, unfiltered fear—is what drives him.

Not possession.

Love.

The realization hits me like a freight train.

And my body responds before my mind can catch up.

Heat pools low in my belly.

My thighs tighten.

I feel the slickness between my legs, sudden and undeniable.

Fuck.

I take another drag of the cigarette, trying to steady myself.

But I can't stop looking at him.

Can't stop noticing the way his jaw tightens when he glances at me. The way his hand hovers near my waist, ready to catch me. The way his eyes track every movement I make, like he's memorizing me.

Like he's afraid I'll disappear.

"You're staring," he says quietly, his voice rough.

"So are you," I shoot back.

His mouth twitches slightly. Almost a smile.

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