“What’s it matter?”

“Jessie. You alone?” he repeats, his tone hard.

“Fine. Yes, I’m alone.” I roll my eyes.

He takes a small step inside the door, coming close to me. So close I can feel the warmth from his body. So close I breathe in sharply at his proximity.

“What do you want?”

“You.”

He says it so easily, so simply, I don’t believe for a second that I heard him right.

“Me?”

“You.” He reaches out and traces his thumb along the line of my jaw to my mouth. “Is that so hard to believe? That I want you, Jessie?”

“That you want me?” I lift an eyebrow and push his hand away. “No. It just depends how you want me, don’t you think? I mean, do you want me to fuck me? To come out with you and play the doting girlfriend? To come to your house with your family so you can treat me like a piece of shit in front of your brother? ’Cause, you know what? I don’t particularly want you to want me any of those ways.”

“I’m an asshole,” he snaps, grabbing my hand as I try to turn away. His touch is hard and hot, and goose bumps erupt across my skin from where his fingers are wrapped around mine. “Never pretended to be anythin’ but, baby. Never promised I’d be a fuckin’ hero, but I admit I was a total dick to you yesterday. And you didn’t deserve it, but you weren’t exactly a little superstar yourself.”

“Excuse me?” My jaw drops and I yank my arm back, this time stepping out of touching distance. “I did nothing! Oh, I’m sorry—I spoke to your brother, who, by the way, I actually like. You’re the one that took one look at us talking like normal people and lost his shit!”

He slams the door behind him, his arms tensing. “Lost my shit, huh? Was that before or after you cozied up to him?”

“Oh my God!” I look at the ceiling, dragging my fingers through my hair. I look back at him, my heart pounding. “Does it matter, really? If the thought of being with Kye so much as flitted through my mind absently, would it fucking matter, Aidan? I don’t belong to you. You don’t fucking own me, asshole. And even if this relationship were real, you still wouldn’t damn well own me. Now, unless you’re here to apologize for your bitch snit yesterday, open that door you just slammed and get the hell out of my house.”

“I’m sorry!” he yells, his voice hoarse and husky. And, hell, I feel it. His voice. I feel it wash over me roughly, hitting me with the impact of his words, even as my surprise at them makes me stop. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry seein’ you with Kye pissed me off. I’m sorry I’m shit at hiding how I feel. Hell, shit at feeling, period. I’m sorry that the thought of you two together pissed me off so much I needed to get away from you before it drove me absolutely insane.”

“The thought of us together? Doing what? Picking freakin’ daisies?” I shout back incredulously. “Yes, excuse me while I think about him all night, meaning I wake up late for work, then drop a full jug of milk on my damn foot because I’m still thinking about him! How dumb are you, Aidan? How dumb are you that you’d think that out of the two of you, he’s the one that I’d want more? How dumb are you that you’d think for a stupid-ass second that I’d lose my shit over him instead of you?”

“Dumb enough to let you become someone that makes me stop and think about letting you go. I’m fucking dumb enough to let you become someone to me, Jessie. That’s how dumb I am. ’Cause I don’t own you, you’re right, but fuck me, I want to.” He comes toward me, the look in his eyes making me tremble. His shoulders are broad, and he towers over me, casting a shadow over me from the sunshine glinting through the glass pane in the door. But he stops—right before me. Not quite touching me but not quite apart from me either. Still, I can’t breathe. Can’t feel anything but my blood thrumming through me and his body a breath away from mine. “I want to own every inch of your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. I want to brand your skin every time I touch you, and I want you to be owned by me. Do you get that? But I can’t. I can’t have that, or you, or anything I want when you flick your hair over your shoulder and sass the shit outta me like you just did.”

“You can’t have what you want? What are you, three years old and I’m the cookie in the jar on top of the fridge or something?” I lift my eyebrows. “Don’t play games with me. I won’t fall for your stupid little tricks. I’m not your goddamn toy for you to turn on and off as you please.”

“But I’m yours,” he growls, closing the distance between us. “Maybe, just fucking maybe, I’m yours, Jessie. Maybe you’re starting to own me, bit by bit, every time you open your mouth. Maybe that’s why the thought of you with anyone else, Kye or not, makes me want to vomit.”

“Why, Aidan Burke, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you like me.”

“Like you? Here’s an idea, baby, shut your mouth for five minutes and let me show you just how much I like you.”

I open my mouth to argue with him, because, no, this isn’t how this works. He can’t come here all asshole, apologize, then yell at me, and expect me to be okay with him seducing me.

But my argument is useless. I don’t even make a squeak, because he grabs me in that rough way he has, pulling my body against his, and I exhale in a big whoosh. My heart thumps erratically in my chest, and my stomach is so tight, so full of anticipation, although I know exactly what he’s going to do.

I know he’s going to kiss me. I know he’s going to grab the back of my neck and hold me against him while he moves his tongue against mine. I know he’s going to make me forget the argument we just had, and I know he’s going to kiss me so long and well that I’ll forget exactly why I’m mad at him.

So I’m waiting, standing here, against him, his shirt clenched in my fists at his sides, waiting, my body going crazy, still waiting, with his breath ghosting over my lips and my eyes closed and his hand at the side of my face and his fingertips teasing my hair and waiting, waiting, waiting.

I can’t move. Each breath I take hurts. My whole body is burning as he taunts me in the cruelest way.

“Jessie,” he whispers.

“I swear to God if you don’t do something right now, even if it’s leave, I’m going to scream so loud I’ll deafen everyone in this town.”

Then his lips are on mine.

And they’re different from what I expected.

It’s better.

The kiss is, quite simply, everything.

Rough and unapologetic, he unleashes the most demanding assault on my lips, and I can do nothing but fall into him and become his victim.

The way he touches me—it’s predatory. It’s wild and crazy. He’s so powerful and I’m so weak, but I grasp at him anyway, desperately trying to keep up with the feelings he’s sending flooding through my body.

The only one I know is want.

I want Aidan. I want him over me. I want his naked body against mine. I want him inside me. I want to feel him and hear him and breathe him in, just because I can.

He spins me into the wall, and I gasp as my back collides with it. He slips his hands beneath my shirt and yanks it upward, forcing me to lift my arms over my head. It’s gone in a quick swish of fabric, and I grasp at his shirt.

Then that’s gone, too, and his hands are fumbling with the clasp of my bra and it’s undone and the straps are falling down my arms and his naked chest is against mine.

I take a deep breath as he drops his mouth to my neck and peppers kisses all down it. Holy shit. Oh God. I’m throbbing everywhere. I can feel him, pressing against me, and he feels just as desperate as I do.

He wants me just as badly as I do him—I know it, because I can taste it in his kiss.

He pulls back and pauses, looking at me, eyelids heavy, lips parted. He looks like a fucking oil painting standing in front of me, but screw his handsome—I don’t care about how goddamn gorgeous he is right now. I care about the fact that he’s stopped doing what I want him to be doing.