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“The only time I’ve begged for anything from you was during a moment of weakness and a moment of alcohol-induced stupidity. And my reason for hating you goes much deeper than that.”

He coughs out a fake laugh, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Moment of weakness, my ass. If I felt in between your legs right now, you’d be drenched, wouldn’t you? You can lie to me all damn day, but your body will always give you away, princess.”

“Even if I was, you wouldn’t do anything about it. You don’t go back for seconds. Tag’em and bag’em, right?”

“Good lord, it’s like you’re this genius little book rat but when it comes to actual common sense, your mind can’t comprehend anything over frat house knowledge.”

“That’s not true,” I defend weakly.

“Then kiss me,” he demands. “Kiss me and I’ll prove you have as much willpower as a peanut.”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “You’re pathetic. You really think I’m going to lower myself to your standards and play your stupid little game?”

He leans over the center console and cups my cheek as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of my neck, pressing his lips just under my ear. His touch sends electricity down my spine and momentarily paralyzes my vocal cords. His lips move and I can feel his warm touch all over my neck and shoulders. My eyes flutter closed as my head falls back, giving him all the access he needs.

“Tell me to stop,” he demands, pressing his lips harder against my skin. He nips with his teeth and I hold back a moan.

“Push me away,” he challenges, pressing his lips against the shell of my ear.

Damn him. Damn him and his perfect, soft lips and his perfect, warm hands touching my face. I want to stop him. I want to have the upper hand, but he’s so right. I have zero willpower when it comes to him. Even the thoughts in my mind start to disappear.

“Your skin tastes like warm honey,” he whispers against my collarbone. “I could kiss this neck for hours.”

His hand palms my breast and squeezes with force, having no self-control to stop him, I arch my back against his hand and moan.

“I knew you were hungry, princess. But goddamn, you’re a starving little vixen, aren’t you?”

My body shudders by the way his words tickle my neck. His hot breath against my skin make it impossible to form words. My throat squeezes tight, releasing a deep moan that teases him just right.

“Fuck, Viola,” he growls, bringing his mouth over mine, but not quite touching. “Say it,” he whispers. “Say you want me just as much as I want you.”

The earnest way his words come out make me want to believe he’s being genuine. I feel completely vulnerable in his arms, but I don’t know if that’s enough to trust him.

“You aren’t the boss of me,” I spit back my earlier words at him with a sly grin.

“If we weren’t parked off the road on a busy street, I’d bend your ass over so fast, you wouldn’t even have time to brace yourself.”

I tick the corner of my lips up, wanting to push his boundaries. I move closer to him, letting my lips rest against his. “So, improvise.”

He presses his lips to mine in a heated rush of need and desire. My body gives in and wraps my arms around him, pulling him closer.

“Sit back,” he says, breaking the kiss. I do as I’m told and watch him climb into the backseat of his Challenger. Once he adjusts himself, I watch as he undoes his dress slacks and pulls them down to his ankles. I notice the large bulge in his boxer shorts and memories of last night send an ache between my legs. “Saddle up, princess.”

My brows shoot up in surprise. “Here? Right now?”

“Tinted windows,” he says as if that’s a good enough reason. “What? You worried someone will see you not being a perfect saint?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” I say, crawling to the back. “And I’m not a perfect saint.” I begin to unbutton my jeans and pull them down and off. I straddle his lap and feel his erection against my panties.

“Prove it then.” He leans back with his arms behind his head, his lips in a crooked smile.

“Fuck you in the backseat of your Challenger to prove what? That I don’t have standards?”

He grabs the outside of my bare thighs and rubs himself against my core. The pressure adds to the desperate ache that’s already there. “That you’re actually a bad girl hidden behind the dorky glasses and Harry Potter t-shirts.”

“Do you just have to push every damn button of mine?” I widen my legs, falling harder against him. I rotate my hips and feel him growing harder underneath me.

“Don’t fuck with me, princess,” he warns, bringing his hips up to rub against my pussy again, his fingers digging into my skin. I start grinding against him faster, his head falling back against the seat with a throaty groan.