“I’m already jealous of the possibility of you fucking someone else,” he says, a plain admission that scorches me. Declan’s jealousy sets me on fire. Every square inch of me burns for him. “You are?” “I am.” His voice is smoke in the desert night. “And what you said this morning?” he prompts, like I didn’t remember it perfectly. “Yeah?” I ask, letting him lead this conversation wherever he’s taking it. “Grant,” he says, his tone shifting, full of vulnerability and heat. “It’s driving me absolutely crazy.”
