“Why did you help me the night I wrecked my car?” I put him in the hot seat. “You were angry because you thought I was drinking and driving, but you could have gotten caught, gotten yourself in trouble. Still, you fixed my problem. Why?”

“Who else was going to?”

“No one.” I shoot back instantly, leaning forward. “That’s sort of the point. It’s no one else’s job.”

“So, I should have let the girl who doesn’t live in order to keep a low profile drop when I had the power to hold her up?”

My chest tightens and I shake my head. “You shouldn’t have been around to have to do either.”

“But I was. I was there when you crashed physically, and I was there when you crashed mentally.”

I clench my teeth together, my jaw muscles aching from the contact.

The club.

“Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t followed you that night.”

I scoff. “I probably would have fucked someone else on the hood of their car.”

His face hardens. “That’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s not supposed to be. It’s the truth.” Maybe, I don’t know, but I shrug anyway. “Why did you follow me? Why do you follow me?”

“I told you before. We’re protective of the things we want.” He glides closer on the board, frustration building behind his light eyes. “I am protective of the things I want.”

My mouth runs dry, but I refuse to swallow while he’s so close, staring so intently. Waiting for a sign I heard him, for a sign I ‘understand,’ knowing I’m sitting here, forced to face his words, head-on.

He’s protective of the things he wants.

Ransom Rossi wants me.

Sure, he doesn’t indulge when his sexy time playmates aren’t in on it, but group play or not, he’s had me, has he not?

In his hands, at his will...

What more is there?

Nothing that you can give, Jameson.

A softness flickers across his face and he reaches out, his knuckles trailing over my swim top.

“Ransom...” I don’t mean to whisper, but that’s how his name leaves me.

His knuckles continue their way along the seam of my suit.

“You know nothing lasts forever, right? That wanting and having has nothing to do with keeping? Protective or not.” Possessive or not.

That’s what his touch is.

Possessive.

Claiming.

Calming.

His thumb comes up, gliding along my jaw, my lower lip, where it presses gently.

I swallow.

“My world, it’s different than yours.”

His eyes lift to mine, and I nearly stop breathing when he whispers, “Is it?”

Chapter 20

“This is most definitely not the way to La Parilla.” I turn toward Anthony, finding his eyes already on me. “Change of plans?”