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“What?” he asked, glaring.
“You’re jealous!”
His eyes widened. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But he couldn’t hold her gaze.
“That’s it! You are!” She squealed with glee at his expression. “You’re jealous of a child.”
His face flushed red, and he glanced back at her. “Stop laughing.”
“You’re jealous, you’re threatened!” she sang, dancing.
He glowered. “Stop.”
“You like me,” she continued to sing. “You loooove me.”
He seized her shoulders, stepping her backward until she was flat against the bookshelf, and she promptly stopped singing, the words dying on her lips. He stepped closer until their noses were almost touching.
Desire beat through her. She pressed her knees together, though her body ached to do the opposite. His eyes widened as he noticed, and she inwardly cursed herself. His gaze dropped to the movement, which only made the throb between her legs worse.
He slowly brought his eyes back to hers, the grip of his hands on her shoulders hardening. Her pulse quickened, and she grabbed fistfuls of her dress, hands tight.
He stepped forward, his knee against hers. Ever so slightly, he pushed, spreading her knees apart with his.
Her breath caught, loud and unavoidable to their ears.
He brought his face closer to hers. Her blood roared in her ears, anticipation pounding through her as she waited to see what he might do.
Then, he bit her lower lip.
She gasped, shocked and perversely delighted. She brought her face forward to return the favor—only to find he had drawn back.
It was his turn to smile at the stupid expression on her face.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lucy
Two more weeks passed in heated skirmishes, bringing them to an icy December.
Still, no matter how brutal their battles and how much he absolutely infuriated her, Lucy couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d bitten her lip, and from there, her thoughts quickly went down increasingly lurid avenues: how his teeth might feel on other parts of her body, how thrilling it would be to bite him back.
Once, she had wondered if he was to kiss her, how it would feel—gentle or rough—and now she was convinced he would be rough with her in the best way. The more the fantasy played through her mind, the more she ached for it.
Which only made her more aggravated.
On this particular Wednesday, she was in the store while Grayson had gone out for a quick lunch. Soon after he left, it had begun pouring rain, and she watched from behind the register when he came up the sidewalk to the door, scowling and wet.
An idea struck her. If she was tortured by the memory of his teeth, she would find other ways to torture him in return.
With a little wave of her hand, Lucy locked the front door. She smiled from behind the counter as he tried and failed to enter. Rainwater drenched his skin. She heard him mutter a curse, reaching into his pocket to fish his keys out.
His blond hair was already soaked—his shoulders too—by the time he pulled the keys out, bringing them to the knob. With another little hex, she had him drop his keys, at which point he looked up at her with a severe expression on his face, highly unamused.
“SERIOUSLY?” he cried. Even so, she barely heard him. The rain was much too loud.
Lucy waved at him, dry and cozy in an off-the-shoulder sweater and tweed miniskirt.
Unfortunately, she got distracted by a customer asking where the latest Nisha Sharma novel could be found, and in the meantime, Grayson managed to get in. He stomped over, huffing as he stood in front of the counter.
