To say that Steve's thoughts had once again turned to you would be misleading. The truth was he had thought of little other than you since you walked into his office. You were supposed to be meeting at the end of the month to write an official contract for your betrothal, and eventual marriage, to Roman. A prospect Steve was looking less forward to with every passing day. He pursed his lips and tapped his fingers on the desk in an impatient rhythm as he made a decision he'd been stewing over for days. He needed to make a call.

His touch moved over the screen of his phone in practiced familiarity to pull up Tony's number.

"Stark," came the terse greeting.

"Tony," Steve returned, his voice low and coaxing. "I have a request for you. In fact, let's call it a proposition."

Silence stretched taut, filled with suspicion.

"Go on," Tony prompted after a beat.

"I think the kids should get to know one another. I would hate for them to enter a marriage with no idea what they're getting into." Steve sounded so reasonable one could almost forget the engagement was all his idea in the first place. "What better way for them to get acquainted than the lovely Ms. Stark moving in here. She can learn the lay of the land so to speak."

"Are you out of your mind, Rogers?" Tony snapped. "You expect me to just hand her over with no protections? No guarantees?"

"That makes it sound like you don't trust me, Tony. That hurts. It really does." Steve allowed himself the smirk that played at the edge of lips.

Stark snorted in disbelief. "I trust you as much as you trust me."

Steve sucked in a breath. He had one play to make and he could only hope it didn't backfire spectacularly. "Ask her."

There was a pause, Tony likely weighing his options and possible outcomes. "Fine. I'll call you back."

Steve waited less than five minutes for the return call though it felt like an hour. What if he'd misread the attraction, the heat between the two of you? "Yes?"

"If anything happens to her—"

Relief flooded through him. "Nothing will happen to her, Stark," Steve interrupted. "She'll be under my personal care.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Tony's voice was heavy with fatigue and Steve wondered what exactly his conversation with you had entailed.

"Careful, Stark, or I'll start to take offense." Anticipation hummed through Steve's veins as he ended the call. It promised something potent, something thrilling. Things were about to get far more interesting in the Rogers' household.

***

Your sleek black car rolled to a stop outside Rogers' house. As you stepped out, you flicked your eyes over the impressive façade taking a moment to appreciate it as you hadn't the last time you were here. The door swung open, drawing your attention. You weren't entirely surprised to see Steve framed in the opening in all his imposing glory. His eyes locked onto yours with a predatory gleam that had your heart skipping a beat.

"Welcome," he greeted as you approached. His shirt outlined his muscled frame when he leaned forward to take the bag from your grip. He stepped closer, close enough for you to breathe in the heady scent of him. His fingers brushed yours as his hand wrapped around the handle of your bag. The touch was fleeting but electric, sparks zipping through your veins. "Allow me," Steve murmured as he took the bag.

He gestured to your car and two men stepped out behind him to retrieve the rest of your things. He placed a hand on your back and steered you into the house. Roman Carter stood at the foot of the stairs, a leer contorting his features as he looked you over from head to toe. You lifted a brow and returned the gesture. You weren't even remotely impressed.

Steve's fingers flexed against your back as he passed your bag off to another minion. "Roman, come meet our guest."

Roman took your hand in his as Steve made the formal introductions. He kissed the back of it and kept hold of it as he straightened to give you another smarmy sneer. "You're welcome to stay in my room. We could get in some practice for the wedding night."

The crack of Steve's hand against Roman's cheek echoed through the foyer. The action was so quick and unexpected you wondered for a beat if you'd imagined it. But Roman's head snapped to the side and he dropped your hand. The red imprint of Steve's fingers flared against his step-son's skin confirming the reality of the situation.

"Have some respect," Steve growled, voice low and dangerous. "She's to be your wife, not your plaything."

You stood still, your expression neutral. Roman hadn't pissed you off enough yet for you to smirk at his misfortune. And you refused to let Steve see how his defensiveness on your behalf stirred something within you. It was entirely inappropriate.

Roman turned his glare to you, his eyes burning with rage as if you had encouraged his humiliation. As if his own stupid mouth wasn't to blame. When you said nothing, he spun on his heel and stormed away, deeper into the house.

Everyone else seemed to have disappeared as well, leaving you alone with Steve. The ghost of a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. "Let's not let that spoil our day, shall we?" His tone was light, playful, and a mischievous sparkle lit his eyes.

His hand once again found the small of your back as he guided you up the stairs and down the long hall. The plush carpet muffled your steps, but nothing could quiet the pounding of your heart. Gods, what was wrong with you? You needed to get this insane attraction under control.

"Here we are." Steve's voice cut into your thoughts. He pushed open the door to show a large room, elegantly decorated. He allowed you to move past him only to lean in, his lips a breath away from your ear. "What do you think?"

You suppressed a shudder as you stepped over to the large window to take in the view. "It's lovely."

Without missing a beat, he came up behind you to place his hands on the window on either side of you, boxing you in. He bent his head and breathed deeply before tracing the line of your neck with his nose. "I've found myself rather partial to this view myself lately."

Your breath hitched and your eyes slipped closed. You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Is that so?" Your words were far breathier than you'd given them permission to be.

Steve chuckled before humming in agreement. Taking mercy on you, he stepped back. You licked your lips as you turned to face him. "Maybe you'd allow me to see more of it later?"

You studied him for a moment, wondering what his intentions were. Surely, he didn't go around seducing all of Roman's women. You would have heard about it by now. "I'm sure you have a lovely view from your own room."

He pursed his lips and rocked back on his heels. "That's a rather lonely vista actually." He reached out and traced a finger along the side of your neck. The touch was light but it burned, searing through your defenses. His skin against yours felt like a promise, a whisper of dark nights and twisted sheets.

He grinned then, as if he'd found the answer to an unasked question. As if he could see every secret thought you'd had about him and those hands. Without another word, he was moving away, steps assured, the king of his domain. But that grin lingered in the air, a challenge left hanging.

As he left the room, you were left standing there with your fingers pressed lightly where his had been. The cool absence of his touch was a startling contrast to the heat he'd roused. And you were oh so ready to burn.