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My head whipped to the side to look at him to see if he was serious. There was no way! I tried, and failed, not to notice just how good he looked today, in a Sidewinder’s baseball hoodie with jeans and flip flops. It was interesting to see Dave Ferguson in casual clothes, knowing that whole fit probably cost more than my car was worth.

“I mean, I did that.” He pointed in the direction of where Adam and Callie had walked off to.

Dave Ferguson was the most annoying, infuriating, arrogant man child I had ever met. He was also my bully. First bullying me into hanging out with him to pay off a stupid tiny little scratch in his fancy-schmancy truck. An accident I was pretty sure he’d caused. I just had no idea how to prove it! Now this!? He wanted six more months over the three we’d agreed on? Why would he want that? In seven months, he’d be god only knew where in the country playing pro baseball!

“You are the absolute worst!” I hissed under my breath.

“Maybe, but you like me.” He smirked, getting close enough for our shoulders to brush. I couldn’t take a breath of air without it somehow being tinged with his cologne and scent I was pretty sure was all him and had nothing to do with whatever expensive body wash or lotion he used. I hated how it made my mouth water and head spin and my legs a little (okay, fine, super) weak in the knees for him.

“Keep telling yourself that, you big bully.” His head leaned forward.

Swallowing a gasp, I stood my ground, chin up, trying like hell not to let him see just how weak I was for him. I had a feeling if he asked me to jump, I’d ask how high just to make him happy.

Why was I so weak when it came to him? Out of all the guys to be drawn to, why Dave freaking Ferguson? Guys like him were too used to getting what they wanted and never appreciating what they had. Even when it was gone.

“Three more months. Four total. That’s what we agreed on. No more than that. But if you want less, I’m totally up for that discussion,” I said with more than enough attitude.

Dave Ferguson brought out a submissive side in me I wasn’t sure what to do with, and attitude and sarcasm were my best line of defense.

What is my problem?

No one in my past had ever made me even think of exploring this side of me, one I’d found accidentally by reading smutty romance books. To explore and experiment and play, you needed trust, and Dave Ferguson was not the kind of guy you could trust. Especially not behind closed doors to do tawdry things to you. Things he would more than likely film and blackmail you with for the rest of your life.

But that was what he’d asked for when we’d agreed to extend our little agreement to another three months. Four more months.

I shivered thinking about what he might want to do now. He’d asked me to trust him. But I wasn’t stupid; he could use that against me.

He wouldn’t do that, a little voice in my head whispered. One that swore Dave had a good side to him, one that wasn’t selfish and spoiled.

What would it be like to be with a man like Dave Fergusson bossing you around behind closed doors? He’d be sweet in public. Treat you like a princess around everyone else, of that I was sure. But then, when no one was around? Would he treat you like his filthy little toy?

And why did my traitorous body overheat at the thought?

I tried to be as subtle as possible when I pressed my thighs together. The fantasies growing in my head made me ache. I tried to blink away the heady thoughts when I noticed him staring at me.

Not just at my eyes but down at my chest. Shit. I wasn’t wearing a lined bra. Almost like he sensed me noticing his eyes on my breasts, they bounced back up to meet mine. But I saw something unexpected in his expression.

Concern? Worry? As quickly as it appeared, it vanished, only to be replaced with annoyance.

“You should really learn to dress better,” he huffed.

“Dress better?” I glanced down at myself. I was in a fitted white tee and lightly-faded bootcut jeans I’d paired with flip flops. I was basically wearing the girl version of what he had on, except he wore a Sidewinders baseball hoodie with his name printed across his broad back. The only difference was that his were designer, while I had found my fit secondhand at the thrift store in town. Not only was Dave annoying and arrogant, but he was a snob, too.

This guy is something else.

He started to move, shimmying out of his hoodie. “Put this on,” he demanded.

“Why?”

“You’re cold,” he stated, his eyes skirting down my chest before rising to meet me head on. I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth. It wasn’t like I could outright admit I was turned on and not cold. Not with the guy who was bullying my every waking moment.

“Whatever,” I mumbled. I reached out for the hoodie, but he tsked.

“You know the rules,” he mumbled. Rules. His stupid, annoying rules! This whole arrangement was stupid!

“Are you serious right now?”

“Roxie,” he warned with a scratchiness in his voice that made me tingle all over.