way he was spanking me again.
I squirmed and struggled, but he was faster and stronger. My hand shot out to the door, the scent of pristine leather filling my nose as his palm landed on my upturned ass with a sharp sting sending fire into my veins.
This wasn’t happening!
I bit his side, tasting the cotton of his shirt and not letting up until he let go of me. Jerking my body off his lap, I made a fist and aimed for his dick.
“Avery, no!” He caught my hands and glared. “You don’t hit a man in the crotch!”
I struggled to break out of his hold, but he was too damn strong. “You. Spanked. Me.”
“You slapped me in the face.”
Damn it! He had a death grip on my fists. “Let go of me.”
“No.”
The warm interior of the tiny hardtop convertible spiked toward a hundred degrees and my knee was jammed between the gearshift and the console. I met his glare and narrowed my eyes. His nostrils flared. Those sharp blue eyes held me prisoner as much as his hands. Such Nordic beauty stripped away my resolve.
As far as physical strength went, I would never be stronger than him. I jerked my arms and slid into my seat. “I hate you.”
He finally let go. “No, you don’t.”
No. I didn’t. That was the problem. My shoulders sagged. If I hated him, it would be so much easier to stay mad at him. But even now, ass burning and one sore boob, I couldn’t bring myself to dislike him.
What was wrong with me? This was not how people our age were supposed to act.
“Noah…”
His fingers brushed a snarled clump of hair from my eyes and his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a hug but leaving me the dignity of allowing me to stay in my seat. This was not where I wanted to be. His lips pressed against my hair, my temple, my eyes.
“You need to stop fighting this.”
I looked up at him, unsure what was happening between us, terrified I was losing my only friend a little more each time we hung out. We didn’t work as a couple. He wanted more. I didn’t. I knew more would only end in disaster, and we’d end up losing everything. Why couldn’t he see this wasn’t worth that?
His lips traced mine, smooth yet firm, and my eyes closed. That mouth. It wasn’t fair for anyone to kiss so well.
His hand cupped the back of my head, and I let him, because I, apparently, was a weak moron who thought with her vagina. His other hand slid inside the back pocket of my jeans, massaging the area he’d smacked.
I gave in to the kiss, too exhausted to fight him off. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were caught in the frienemy zone, in a traffic jam of sexual tension, sarcasm, and explosive chemistry. It was the unhealthiest relationship imaginable. When his lips pulled away from mine, I forgot why we were fighting in the first place.
He looked at me through gold-fringed lashes. “Are you done?”
“Yeah.” I slid my feet to the floor and buckled up. “You’re a jerk. My butt hurts.”
“So do my balls. I’ll take you to Fourth Street for breakfast.”
And that was that. Nothing resolved. Nothing changed. Just stuck in this weird, little, maybe relationship of I don’t know what the fuck is going on.
But the label didn’t matter. All that mattered was I still wasn’t ready to sacrifice our friendship for something sexual. Nor was I ready to sacrifice my control. So we were basically back where we started.
18
Noah
I should have known better than to assume this would be easy. Nothing with Avery was fucking easy. The morning we returned to the city I kissed her goodbye and paused at my door. Something told me I should take a long hard look at her, but when I turned around, she was already gone.
The following day I didn’t see her on my way into work. Nor did I spot her in the building that night. I texted her, but she didn’t respond.
On Tuesday I texted her again, but she still wasn’t answering. I was growing concerned until a familiar man picked her up. She seemed to open the door just fine for him. I paced a trench in my floor the entire time they were gone, and when he walked her to her door, I pathetically watched through the peephole.
Seeing another man kiss her—even if it was only on the