"What? No!"
"If I hauled you into the backseat right now and ate you, would you be faking that, Hattie baby?"
"N-no," I stutter. "It's just…"
I can see myself falling for you if I'm not careful, and that can't happen.
"I'm not your type," he growls with this tone that says he doesn't like that one bit.
"Right," I say weakly. "And I'm probably not yours. I mean, obviously, I'm not yours. What happened tonight was just—"
"Because I've thought about nothing else since you moved back."
"Exactly!" I cry, relieved he understands. And then my mind catches up to what he just said. "Wait. What?"
"You heard me."
"No, I'm pretty sure I didn't."
He reaches across the console, planting his hands around my waist. Before I can blink, he's hauling me onto his lap. The steering wheel is pressed against my back, trapping me in place. My heart beats like a freaking drum. But…I'm also not so sure I want to escape.
"You drive me fucking crazy," he growls. "You have for months."
"But…you don't even like me?"
"What gave you that idea?"
"You don't like anyone!"
"You're not just anyone."
"Did you have vodka tonight?" It's the only logical explanation for this conversation. Sidney Hawkes isnotsitting here right now, telling me that he's wanted me for months. Not unless he's drunk.
"No. I had you coming all over my fingers." His lips drift down the side of my face, his breath hot and a little wild. "I want more of it, Hattie."
"Oh.Oh," I say, relieved. That's what this is. Sex. Yes, of course. "I never said we couldn't do that, Sidney. Just…no feelings."
"No feelings," he repeats.
"Exactly. That way, it doesn't get complicated or messy or—"
"Yeah, fuck that, butterfly," he growls, his hands locked around my waist. "I'm not interested in being your fuck boy or booty call or dick appointment or whatever the fuck it's called."
"Oh." I feel like we're having two entirely different conversations here, and I'm not sure what that means.
"I don't intend on being someone you're able to forget," he breathes against my skin. "By the time the wedding is over, you're going to be addicted to me."
"What?"
"I didn't stutter, baby." He nips my skin. "This isn't pretend. It isn't fake. You and I are happening, and it's not going to be temporary. It's not going to be whatever you spent half the night trying to convince yourself it would be, either."
"But…"
"No," he growls, sinking a hand into my hair to crane my head back. "This is happening, Hattie."
I clock the look in his eyes, and my heart stutters to a stop before racing away. He means it. He really means it.
"We don't fit," I whisper.
