He unlocks the car and opens the back door to throw his bag inside before closing it and then turning to face me. “Get in the car,” he orders.
“Give me my phone back.”
“Get in the car,” he repeats, opening the passenger door. “Now.”
The voices of a few drunk people leaving the fight drift over to us.
“No.”
“Iwillpick you up and put you in there myself,” he threatens.
“I’ll get out,” I sass back.
“Iwillput you on my lap as I drive.”
“That’s mighty dangerous.”
“I like to live on the edge.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do,” I say with an eye roll. To which he grinds his jaw.
He slips my phone into his pocket and then takes a step in my direction.
“I know kung fu,” I warn, and his lips twitch.
“I’m sure you do,” he drawls.
I don’t actually know any fighting styles, but I thought it might be a warning to leave me alone. Clearly, the man doesn’t listen, because he lifts me into his arms and hauls me to the car like I’m a piece of luggage. At the open driver’s side door, he pivots and then climbs in. I bend my legs, without even thinking, as he slides the seat back so we both fit.
“Nope, this isnothappening,” I tell him, trying to push away. But he’s strong and doesn’t let me go. I’m now half in the car with one knee between his legs.
“You either get into the passenger seat, or I’ll keep you right here until I get you home.”
I clench my teeth as I glare at him. “You are not in charge of me. You told me to come here tonight, and I did.”
“Yes, about that?—”
“Nope. We are not discussing that now. You’re annoying me.” I try to push away again, but he’s so fucking strong.
“Passenger or driver’s side?” he asks.
“Neither.” The word leaves me accompanied by a growl.
He shrugs, closing the door, and then maneuvers my body so he can slide in properly. I end up basically straddling him, myknees on either side of his hips, and my back against the steering wheel.
If I lower myself just a little, I would be able to feel him between my legs.Nope. I can’t think those things. Staring at him, I try to give him my best fuck-you glare. And all he does is smirk.
“Your place or mine?” he asks.
“Neither,” I say again.
In response, he pulls me down until I have no choice but to sit on his lap and feel himthere.
“Remove your hands,” I demand.
“You didn’t use your manners.”
“Move yourfuckinghands,” I say with a bright tone and a smile. “Better?” I cock my head to the side in challenge, watching his jaw tighten.
