“Are we doing this?” he grumbles. “Fine, we’ll do this.” His hand comes to my chin and he yanks my face back to his when I try to look away. He searches my eyes. “The thought of anyone else touching you makes me fucking feral, Cub. And I don’t mean that in the same bullshit way that most other men mean that, I mean that as in I’ll straight up murder any motherfucker that so much as looks at you for too long, so… to answer your question? Yeah, I’m your man, but make no mistake, you are mine and I don’t play nice with other people trying to get into my sandbox—you feel me?”
