Before she can finish her sentence, I snatch her up by the back of the neck and pull her in for a kiss. It shuts her right up. She moans into my mouth as I taste the sweet minty flavor of her toothpaste. Her lips are soft, and I like the way her mouth relaxes against mine so I can run my tongue along the sharp edges of her teeth.

She groans as I push her body back against the wall.

“No,” she whines, and I pull away. Her lips are already red where my two-day stubble has chafed them. I can tell by the look of surrender in her eyes that she doesn’t want me to stop, but she said no...so I wait.

The ball’s in your court now, sweetheart.

“We’re not doing this,” she breathes just before jumping off the wall and latching onto my face like it can save her life. As her lips attack mine this time, I gently peel her hands off my neck and face and push them behind her back. She doesn’t fight it, and she almost puts them there like she wants to.

I continue to kiss her, and I love the way her movements change once her wrists are in my hands. She opens herself to me, pressing her hips forward so I can run my hand along the back of her thigh and pull her leg open like I did last night.

“We’re not doing this?” I ask.

“Fuck you,” she growls, letting her head hang back. “It’s just sex.”

The blood being pumped from my heart feels like ice when she says that. I have news for her. We are not doing this, and I’m not fucking her even though she’s staring at me with those fuck me now eyes.

“I have to get to work,” I whisper, leaning down to admire the marks on her neck where I nibbled on her last night. I want to leave more, and I want to leave them everywhere.

She lets out another whine as I pull away.

“Fine,” she argues. Taking her arms from their spot behind her, she reaches for me, and I almost miss it. Her fingers graze the buttons of my shirt, and I snatch up her wrists with a little too much intensity.

“What the fuck?” she cries, and I quickly let them go and turn away.

“What’s with you and touching?” she asks.

I don’t answer her as she follows me around my apartment, watching me gather up my things.

“You can touch me, but I can’t touch you?” she asks.

“I like to be in control,” I answer, turning toward her to see her standing in the doorway of my bedroom. Her eyes land on the workout equipment in the corner and my bed, unmade in the middle. “I thought you liked it?” I ask.

I see her swallow, trying to hide her expression. Stepping up to her, my face just inches from hers, I whisper, “You like it, don’t you? Imagine being tied up on my bed, letting me do whatever I want to you, knowing you’ll love every fucking minute of it.”