The light turned green, and he pressed his foot on the pedal just hard enough to make the car surge forward faster than necessary. Bella grabbed the seatbelt instinctively.
"Leo…" she said quietly.
He exhaled through his nose, forcing his grip to loosen on the wheel. The tension in his shoulders remained, though; every inch of him looked sculpted in anger. But it wasn't mindless rage. It was something darker, heavier, possessive.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter but so much deeper it made her heart tremble. "You don't know what it does to me," he murmured, his gaze locked on the road. "Hearing them say those things about you." He didn't like the fact another man had spoken about Bella in that way. She was his wife, lawfully.
Bella turned to him slowly. His tone wasn't cold anymore—it was low, dangerous, and unbearably intimate.
