Their... Contract?

"Don't laugh at me," I warn him, even as his cocky little grin sends a sizzle through my blood.

"I'm not. I'm desperate to hear what you have to say."

But instead of showing me how he's listening, his hands press down on my hips, grinding me against the heat and thickness of his cock.

"I don't want a relationship," I clarify, and his hands still immediately.

"Okay." There's a question mark in there somewhere, in the way he drawls out the word.

His stupidly pretty green eyes are too distracting, so I glance at the roof of the car instead. "I'm still pissed about you calling me a cheater, too."

"Nicole, I'm so sorry—"

I nod, still not looking at him. If I do, I'll probably kiss him. Or rub all over his lap and beg him to fuck me in this car.

Actually, that's starting to sound—

No. Damn it, his pheromones are back. I need to get this out before I lose what little thought process I have left.