Taking.
A controlled kind of hunger—held tight on a leash—but unmistakable.
Mine.
She freezes for half a second.
Shock.
Then heat flickers through her.
I feel it.
That soft give.
That response.
And it hits me straight in the chest like a damn trigger.
I want more.
I almost take more.
But I stop.
Force myself back before I lose control of it completely.
Her lips part.
Her eyes wide.
Breathing uneven.
“David—”
I pull away just enough to look at her. Really look at her.
And I let her see what’s there, just waiting for her.
Then I nod toward her plate.
“Eat.”
Her brows draw together. “You can’t just—what was that?”
“We’ll talk later, linda.”
My voice is steady.
But there’s an edge under it now.
Possession.
Control.
Barely contained.
“Right now?” I nod toward her food again. “You need to eat your dinner.”