“I didn’t mean to imply I wasn’t fully committed to our relationship,” she began. Needing him to know. Still, he deserved a kick for his outburst, especially the crack about marriage. As if she would even consider such a ridiculous proposal. “What I need to say, Elijah, is that I don’t want this life for you. For us. But mostly for you. You don’t want it either. The problems I’ve brought to your door are only miring you deeper in the muck.”

He stared at her for what seemed an eternity. His gaze was wholly focused. Intense. Finally he shook his head. Slowly. “Dios mio, mi vida.” His silver eyes moved over her face. “‘Miring me deeper in the muck’?” he echoed. “You don’t want that for me?”

She shook her head. “No, I want you happy, Elijah. Not worried. Not in danger. Not doing things you hate with every breath you take. I want you free.”

His gaze burned her. His eyes were so silver they glowed. Gleamed. She could see his cat close.

“I don’t get free you going to leave me?”

She studied his features. So still. So expressionless. A mask. But his eyes were alive. Liquid. Burning over her and into her. The hand on her thigh had gone still and he held himself like a statue. No, not like a statue. Like a leopard. Freeze-frame. Completely, utterly still. Focused.

“I’m here, Elijah. Your seed deep inside me. Your baby growing in me. You’re not free, and I’m here.” She leaned into him, laying her hand against his jaw, looking into those liquid eyes. “I’m here, Elijah.”

“Like knowing my seed’s in you, baby, but right now I want to eat you, and I can’t do that. So you’re going to go clean that up and I’m going to deal with the problem and then you’re back in our kitchen while I fix you dinner.”

He didn’t move. He kept looking at her. Making her heart pound. Making her stomach melt and that burn deep inside grow hotter.

“I still have to know we’re clear on this, mi amorcito. This business doesn’t touch you. I’ll handle things. You live your life sweet and clear and I’ll handle the . . .” A slow smile softened the hard edge of his mouth and crept into his eyes. “What word did you use? Muck. I’ll handle the muck.”

She tried not to smile, or feel the heat moving through her veins. “You are definitely finding me amusing and that is so not cool.”

“Siena, you say things like you’re having a word with me when you’re supposed to be angry or that I’m mired in muck, yeah, it’s fucking adorable, but it’s also amusing. You have to get that.”

“I get that you’re not taking me seriously.”