“No…” She cocks an eyebrow. “It’s definitely not your strong suit.”

Adjusting my cock in my briefs, I take a step toward her. “Well, since we’re here…”

Her eyes widen and her hands fly up to my chest. “Back up, manwhore. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole!”

“You sure? ’Cause I’ve got one right here.” I gesture to my hard cock, hoping it doesn’t spring from my briefs and slap Captain Killjoy in the face. If she’s mortified now, that would certainly send her careening into the deep end.

Her eyes drop to my erection for the second time, and whether she realizes she does it or not, her eyelids shudder. This girl may hate my guts, but she needs to get fucked. And not some mediocre lay either, this girl needs to get fucked by someone like me. Someone who will make sure she comes six ways from Sunday before I even enter her. Poor thing is ignoring her body’s natural desires by listening to her prudish mind. I’d be doing her a favor, honestly.

She squeezes past me and rounds the counter of the kitchen island like it’s a barrier she’s constructing between us. “Aleck, since we’re staying together for the foreseeable future, we need some ground rules…”

Yeah, I’m not getting anywhere with this one.

Her body is bangin’ but she’s about as sexual as a nun at a frat party. I lean my back against the counter facing her and cross my arms over my chest.

“I don’t do ground rules, Grimm.”

She rolls her eyes again—the second time she’s rolled her damn eyes like a teenager in less than twenty minutes—and straightens her back, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Well, you do them now. One, I don’t appreciate the nickname—”

“That was before I realized you were hot—”

She holds her hand up to stop me mid-sentence. “Be that as it may…” She’s not amused by my attraction to her. I must be off my game today. I blame the booze. “I would like you to call me by my name, please.”

A smirk plays on my lips. “Which is?”

“Winter! I told you my name four minutes ago.”

“Be that as it may…” I lift my eyebrow, teasingly. “Your name sucks. Winter isn’t a name, it’s a season.”

Winter adorably stomps her foot. “Aleck!”

A laugh blooms in my chest. “Alright, Sister Winter, I’ll stop calling you Grimm. No matter how fitting it is. If you grant me one solid…”

Her eyes immediately narrow on mine. “I’m not doing anything sexual with you.”

“One, your loss. Two, I’ve pulled sex off the table, anyway. You probably fuck like a wet blanket.” A wave of satisfaction rolls through me when Winter’s chest expands with a frustrating breath. “No, what I want from you will be far more gratifying than the boring sex you would inevitably give me.”

The rage in her eyes is undeniable, and for some odd reason, I like it.

“Spit it out, Fox!”