Fire Rose Hillson
I finally let my intrusive thoughts win.
I've pushed all of Cronus's buttons, and it was a grave mistake. A moment ago, we decided to have dinner, but now, just minutes into the drive, we're in a situation I never saw coming. His face is dangerously close to mine, His face was flushed with anger, laced with something more intense, something raw and primal. I started this, but now I'm frozen, unable to move, caught in a moment that feels like a knife's edge.
He leans in closer, and my senses are flooded with his scent—an intoxicating blend of cedar and pine, underscored by a subtle hint of fresh rain and something deeply masculine. It's overwhelming, pulling me in despite every warning signal firing off in my brain. Damn, how can anyone smell this good? My gaze locks onto his, and I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead, the intensity in his eyes as they search my face for something, anything.
We're stop in the middle of the damn road, horns blaring and lights flashing all around us, but he doesn't care. He's completely unfazed by the chaos outside, focused entirely on me. If I move even a fraction, my lips will collide with his. I don't want that—not here, not with the world watching, not when I'm this rattled.
"Fear me, Fire... Fear me... Then want me."
His whisper soft and slow, and my mind went blank, I can't bring myself to meet his gaze, knowing that he'll see right through me. I already fear him, more than I care to admit.
"Stop please stop!" I manage to stammer, my voice betraying my panic. "Can we get out of here? We're causing traffic."
His eyes stay locked on mine for another agonizing second before he finally turns away, hitting the gas. The car lurches forward, the force of it slamming me back into my seat, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum.
"Slow down, you jerk!" I scream, my voice raw with fear. He eases up on the pedal, but the adrenaline still courses through me. "Are you trying to met Jesus?!"
Before he can respond, the sharp wail of sirens fills the air as flashing red and blue lights illuminate the night. Cops are pulling up beside us, and I can feel my heart sinking. This man might actually be the death of me. Cronus pulls the car over, unbuckling his seatbelt with a calmness that's almost eerie.
"Stay here," he commands, his voice low and firm, leaving no room for argument.
What the fuck?
I watch, my breath catching in my throat, as he steps out of the car. Cronus Romano, the man who had me on the edge of my seat one moment and breathless the next, is now walking toward a cop like it's just another mundane task. The way he moves, so assured and unflinching, makes me wonder if I should be terrified... or impressed.
What the hell happened to him? One moment, he was his usual self, and the next, he turned into someone more aggressive, like a switch had flipped. It all started when I brought up the background check he did on me. I wanted to know just how deep he dug.
Turns out, he dug deep. He knows everything—my father, my mother, even the reason my father left. He didn't tell me the reason, though, and I didn't ask. I didn't want to know. When he asked me if I hated my father, it caught me off guard.
Hate is such a strong word, a strong emotion and I don't think I'm capable of feeling that towards someone I don't even care about. So I told him, no, I don't hate my dad. Then he asked if my father's actions ever made me question why he did it, I was being honest so I told him yes, it did—it made me wonder if leaving us made him happy. That's when Cronus, with a sincerity that twisted my stomach, answered for me.
