“Definitely. I love how hot your fire burns when you’re protecting someone.” His thumb skimmed my bottom lip, petting me as he softly admired, “My little spitfire that could burn down worlds if she wanted.” I anchored myself to him, fisting my hands in his shirt. “I’ll burn down anyone who tries to hurt you.” “Maybe you’ve got it backwards,” he heartened, face lowering to mine. “Maybe you’re my hero.” “I hate maybes.” “And I love you,” he hummed. “Deeply and wildly out of my control.”
