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“Talk to you like what?” he asked.

“You know what.”

“I don’t recall you minding my dirty mouth when it was all over you the other night,” he said, voice infuriatingly calm. “Actually, I recall you enjoying it. Quite a bit.”

She gasped, looking over her shoulder, where Charles was clearly within hearing distance. She pushed Grayson back to a corner behind one of the bookshelves, where they were out of sight and out of hearing range.

“Act like a human being,” she snapped.

He barked out a laugh. “Funny demand for a witch to make.”

Rage burned through her, but she couldn’t think of anything clever to say. She grabbed him by the sweater, bringing their faces close.

“Stop talking.”

His gaze went down to her mouth. Heat flared through her, pooling between her legs as he stared. Finally, he brought his eyes back up to hers.

“Make me,” he whispered, hands going to her hips.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked, stepping closer until she was pressed against him. His fingers dug into her skin. Quick as lightning, he turned their bodies so that she was the one backed against the wall.

He clenched his jaw, eyes alight. She moved her hand from his chest up to his throat, feeling his pulse beat against her palm. He let out a growl, pushing her harder against the wall. Grabbing his shoulders, she jumped up, and his hands moved from her waist to under her skirt to lift her up. Hands on her bare skin, he held her tight.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, moving her hips to climb him until they were face to face. His hands tightened under her, and he pushed closer, crushing against her. She spread her legs wider, hissing as she felt his hard bulge along the underwear beneath her skirt.

The thin fabric was hardly a barrier at all, and desire burned through her at the contact. Her hands went in his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it. She pulled his head back until he was looking up at her, his eyes vivid.

Body pulsating, she moved her hips, rubbing against him. With a growl, he thrust against her, pushing her harder against the wall, and she nearly cried out. She bit her bottom lip to force the cry back, and he saw, his eyes going darker.

“You piss me the fuck off,” he said, voice low. “But all I can think about is you.”

“Good,” she snapped. “You’re so fucking annoying, but all I want to do is fuck you.”

He wanted her, she could feel it; every inch of just how much he wanted her was pressed hard against her throbbing seam. She was wide open for him, the only thing separating them the paltry fabric of a few layers of clothing.

With a snap of her fingers, the clothes would be gone, and they would be fucking against this wall. It wouldn’t even take her long to come. She was already so wet.

She wanted him—but she wanted to get back at him more.

“Then go ahead,” he said, voice both a dare and a wish. “Fuck me. Fuck me as hard as you want.” He was goading her; he was imploring her. His voice was a breathless whisper. “And I’ll fuck you back, just as hard. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She would, god, she really would. But she would not let him win.

She brought her lips closer to his, let them skim the edge of his mouth for the briefest moment before she turned to his ear and said, “Mm, no thanks.”

She pushed him away and hopped off, leaving him standing there as she walked away. Her knees were so weak she could barely stand, and she was throbbing painfully.

She caught her breath, glancing back to find him looking outrageously pissed off and obscenely turned on.

Her body ached, but it was worth it for the look on his face.

She had won this round.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lucy

Tensions continued to run high for the next two weeks, and Lucy seriously, well and truly, needed to get the life railed out of her.