Her petite body is tense, electrified with rage. My attention is drawn to the hint of her pert nipples. Her shoulders are pulled back and her breasts strain against her cotton T-shirt with each heaving breath. Her face is flushed and her pouty lips are pursed. There’s fire dancing in those chocolate eyes. Damn. Elizabeth Wilde is sexy as hell when she’s pissed off.

I have a feeling this is a pattern, running away when she gets scared. Not this time. I cross the room to her slowly and confidently.

“There’s no need to be so dramatic,” I tell her as I pull the door out of her hand and close it again.

She crosses her arms and huffs at me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize where we were starting from,” I placate her, my voice soft.

“Now you know.”

I didn’t know so much sass could come in such a small package. She’s flipped a one-eighty from the apprehensive creature perched on the edge of the couch just a minute ago. She may not be comfortable with being sexy, but she sure knows how to be pissed.

“Now I know.” I encroach on her personal space, curious to see if she’ll switch back to the scared kitten from before if I turn up the heat. “I feel bad. If I’d realized that was your first kiss, I would’ve made it a better one. Can I get a do-over?”

I don’t wait for a response before I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her body against me. I glide my other hand behind her neck and snake my fingers into her hair. Her body goes rigid against mine, but I don’t let her pull away.

Ms. Feisty is reverting back to Dr. Timid as she deflates in my arms, the anger seeping out of her like a balloon.

I brush my lips against hers, teasing the sensitive skin. I wait for a minute, giving her the chance to tell me to stop. She doesn’t.

“You’re holding your breath,” I murmur against her lips. A deep, ragged moan is her only response. Having this effect on her is intoxicating. I press my lips against hers, tracing with my tongue and sucking her bottom lip into my mouth.

She doesn’t kiss me back. She doesn’t do anything.

Panic radiates off her. I pull back and take her in. She’s terrified. Her eyes are clenched shut and every muscle in her body’s got to be constricted, like this is electroshock therapy. It’s not sexy. Not the same ballpark as sexy.

“Relax,” I tell her. “Get out of your head.”

“I can’t!” she snaps back at me. She’s irritated but doesn’t pull away.

“Open your eyes,” I beckon, taking a step back and interlacing her fingers with mine at her side. Her face is a picture of angst and frustration, lips pouting, forehead furrowed, cheeks aflame.

What am I going to do with this girl? I need to get her to relax and calm down. It’s just a kiss, for fuck’s sake.