“What the hell was that last part?”
“You maniac! I almost burned the shit out of my hand!”
“Repeat what you said.”
Rolling my eyes, I secured the hot tumbler in a cup holder. “Come on, Noah. This was a mistake. I told you—”
“Last night was not a mistake, Avery. You cried, and I fucking held you. Shit like that isn’t meaningless.”
My jaw locked. I cried because he pushed me past my comfort zone and stole my control. “I disagree.” And damn my voice for wavering. “We can’t do anything like that again. We’re better off as friends.”
“Bullshit! I knew you were going to pull this crap!”
This wasn’t my fault. “I told you to stop, and you didn’t!”
“I was giving you an orgasm!”
“It was too much! I said enough.”
“Don’t twist it around like I’m some sort of predator who made you do something terrible. I didn’t hurt you. You know I’d never hurt you. Tell me you know that.”
“That doesn’t matter. I … didn’t like it.”
“Bullshit. I was there, Avery.”
This was getting far too personal. “Well, we’re not doing anything like that again.”
His eyes narrowed. “There’s something here, and I’m not letting you run from it.”
“You don’t control me!”
“Yeah, well … neither do you. Fear controls you. Stop acting like you’re some badass chick who doesn’t need anyone. It’s obnoxious—”
His words cut off as my hand slapped across his cheek. Everything silenced.
“Sorry...” I never actually slapped a man out of frustration. I didn’t know what to say, and he looked ready to strangle me. “My hand slipped.”
His jaw ticked and time stood still, the energy of the car tightening like a slingshot about to spring. He dove across the interior and jerked back when his seatbelt stopped him. I laughed because it was funny, but he didn’t appear to think so.
The buckle clicked and flung toward the door. He was free. The strap of my seatbelt whisked off my chest, and he grabbed my wrist, tugging me over the center console.
“Hey!” I yanked back, but he had a tight grip. “Get off of me!”
He tugged my arms over his lap, and my hand shot out to protect my face from hitting the steering wheel. The back of his arm weighed me down, and I squirmed to get back to my seat.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I nearly swallowed my tongue as heat exploded through my jeans, and the sound of his hand smacking down on my jeans reverberated in the car. It took me a minute to process that he just spanked me.
My heavy breathing challenged the sound of heat pumping from the vents. The moment I processed his actions, I committed to a reflexive reaction.
“You fucker!” I went for his nipples.
Twisting to my side, my back hit the wheel, and the horn honked. I went for his nipples, twisting hard enough to change the color of his face.
“No!”
I pinched as hard as I could through the layers of his clothes.
“You fucking bitch!” He shoved me aside and walloped my ass again.
“Stop!”
“You stop!”
“No! You started it!”
“You slapped me!”
“It was an accident!” I scrabbled away as his palm peppered my ass.
He was going to leave bruises! My jeans did nothing to spare me pain.
“Stupid dick!”
I twisted and tried to punch him in the crotch, but there wasn’t enough room with me wedged between his chest and the wheel. The horn blared as I squirmed to save my butt another smack.
His palm landed on my hip. “Enough!”
I jerked free and panted, my hair falling in my face and my coat slipping off my shoulders. My throbbing butt sent a pulse through my veins. Furious, I glared, gritting my teeth.
“Jesus, you’re fucking sexy.”
Sexy? I wanted to kill him, and he was thinking about sex? “There’s something seriously wrong with you—”
His lips smashed to mine, his fingers locking in my hair and holding me still as his tongue plunged into my mouth. Something unraveled inside of me, and before I turned into a puddle of brainless hormones, I slapped the thigh of his jeans.
A satisfying smack filled the car.
Our mouths broke apart, and his arm flung out with surprising speed, and pain exploded in my boob.
Cradling my chest, I gaped at him. “Did you just tit-slap me?”
“You hit me first.”
I lost it. My hand swatted at his face, shoulders, arms, anywhere I could reach. He wasn’t holding back either. My ass was burning hot, and when his seat slid back, I panicked and reached for the door handle.
“No, you don’t.” Strong hands wrenched me back, my fingernails scraping on the metal handle as it slipped out of my grip.
“No!” There was no way he was spanking me again.
I squirmed and struggled, but he was faster and stronger. My hand shot out to the door, the scent of pristine leather filling my nose as his palm landed on my upturned ass with a sharp sting sending fire into my veins.
This wasn’t happening!
I bit his side, tasting the cotton of his shirt and not letting up until he let go of me. Jerking my body off his lap, I made a fist and aimed for his dick.
“Avery, no!” He caught my hands and glared. “You don’t hit a man in the crotch!”
I struggled to break out of his hold, but he was too damn strong. “You. Spanked. Me.”
“You slapped me in the face.”
Damn it! He had a death grip on my fists. “Let go of me.”
“No.”
The warm interior of the tiny hardtop convertible spiked toward a hundred degrees and my knee was jammed between the gearshift and the console. I met his glare and narrowed my eyes. His nostrils flared. Those sharp blue eyes held me prisoner as much as his hands. Such Nordic beauty stripped away my resolve.
As far as physical strength went, I would never be stronger than him. I jerked my arms and slid into my seat. “I hate you.”
He finally let go. “No, you don’t.”
No. I didn’t. That was the problem. My shoulders sagged. If I hated him, it would be so much easier to stay mad at him. But even now, ass burning and one sore boob, I couldn’t bring myself to dislike him.
What was wrong with me? This was not how people our age were supposed to act.
“Noah…”
His fingers brushed a snarled clump of hair from my eyes and his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a hug but leaving me the dignity of allowing me to stay in my seat. This was not where I wanted to be. His lips pressed against my hair, my temple, my eyes.
“You need to stop fighting this.”
I looked up at him, unsure what was happening between us, terrified I was losing my only friend a little more each time we hung out. We didn’t work as a couple. He wanted more. I didn’t. I knew more would only end in disaster, and we’d end up losing everything. Why couldn’t he see this wasn’t worth that?
His lips traced mine, smooth yet firm, and my eyes closed. That mouth. It wasn’t fair for anyone to kiss so well.
His hand cupped the back of my head, and I let him, because I, apparently, was a weak moron who thought with her vagina. His other hand slid inside the back pocket of my jeans, massaging the area he’d smacked.