“These rings,” he starts, flicking my wedding and engagement bands. “These rings mean you are mine, fake or not, in the eyes of the law you belong to me,” he murmurs, dropping his forehead to mine, as his other hand gently squeezes my throat, until I can feel the bite of his own wedding band. “And feel this ring? Fuck, this ring means I belong to you, Hallie. It means you own me, so that is why I kissed you.”
