"You need to leave," I state, aiming for firm. "We're married," he reminds me with a smirk. "Fake married. For protection. Not for-" I gesture vaguely between us. "Not for whatever this is." "What is this?" He takes another step closer, his chest almost touching my back. "You're trying to control me." "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to take care of you." "Not from where I'm standing." I turn to face him, and we're suddenly even closer. "I don't want your help. I want-" I break off because I don't know how to finish that sentence. "You want what?" he asks quietly. "I want you to stop confusing me. Stop acting as if you own me. And stop looking at me like that." "Like what?" "Like you want to—" I can't finish. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Like I want to kiss you?"