He and Arsen walk to the far end of the balcony, looking down at the pool, lined perfectly with the edge of the cliff on the first story. Beretta starts talking about what he would do if it were his property and Arsen grins, nodding along.

“They’re very protective of each other, aren’t they?” I ask quietly.

“We are protective of all the things we care about, and of all the things we want.”

I keep my head facing forward, moving only my eyes to his, and clear, steady blues stare back.

Something unfamiliar burns in my throat, but I swallow past it.

I’m not sure what he sees in my expression, but before I’ve even got my mouth open, he’s shaking his head, and like before, I ignore him.

“Why were you on Scott’s street the night I crashed?”

He doesn’t confirm or deny he followed me, but he also doesn’t look away.

“You read the note he left, so I think you wanted to see if I would go.”

Again, nothing from him.

“I did, and you stayed. Why?”

“To see how long you would.” This time, his answer is quick and honest.

I nod, figuring that as well. “To know if I was fucking him.”

“I already knew you weren’t,” he fires back.

My brows lift the slightest bit.

“That so?” I wrap my fingers around the railing, and I shift to face him better.

“Yeah, that’s so.” He matches my move, facing me full-on, pushing closer until we’re near chest to chest, his knuckles brushing mine on the cool metal.

I wait for an explanation, but what I get is a warning, the purpose buried beneath it.

His free hand comes up, and he presses two fingers against my neck, just beneath my jawbone and directly over my pulse point. My skin heats from his touch, under his darkened gaze, and I try to pull away, but his free hand wraps around my waist, forcing me still.

Forcing me to feel him.

To acknowledge the way my pulse climbs beneath his rough fingertips.

He dips his head. “Next time your little iron heart beats a bit harder than you want it to, give in...” He trails off, his thumb coming up, pressing firmly into the underside of my jaw, and tilting it up farther. “Or go the fuck home... not to someone else simply because you know he could never get under your skin.”

My jaw clamps tight. His perceptiveness is as disturbing as it is alluring, but the way he insinuates my attention belongs to him is not good.

It’s dangerous.

It’s dangerous because my insides are suddenly dancing to a beat I’ve never heard, yet there it is, thrumming beneath my skin.