“I can’t with you. I’m going to read in my room.” I announce, sliding my foot back into my left shoe.
“No, no, sit your ass right back down. Have a glass of wine. Let’s talk.”
“Talk? You want to talk?” I ask incredulously, stumbling as I try to step into my right shoe.
His hands grab my hips, preventing my fall and steadying me. Then, abruptly and unapologetically, he pulls me back down to the sofa beside him.
“I want you to stop huffing and puffing because I sat in your bloody favorite seat on MY sofa.” He yelled, simultaneously releasing me and scooting an inch or two back.
“I was not!” I yell back, knowing the full-body blush from his words was nothing compared to what his brief man-handling had done to my core.
“I thought you weren’t a liar, Granger. And you want me to trust you with all of my secrets? Shame.” He replies calmly, looking more amused than angry now as if he could see right through to the wetness building in my knickers.