Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)

“If you want.”

“I don’t want,” I said. “I’ll give you the times I’m available, and you can call me if you need a ride then.”

“No. That’s cheating.”

He was so disagreeable. So damned argumentative. It frustrated me because it was so damn…interesting. And exciting.

“How is that cheating?”

“You could only give me the times you want to be available, not when you actually are.”

“What the—”

“Why don’t I give you my schedule too? Although I should warn you that it’s all over the place.”

Suddenly, he moved closer. His face inches from mine as he asked in a soft, seductive voice, “Kara?”

Air. I needed air.

“Hmm?”

“What time is your class?”

“Eleven.”

“I woke you up too early,” he said softly.

“I-I was going to study and do homework anyway.”

His hand reached out to touch my cheek. I wanted to lean closer, rub my face against his wide palm like a cat. Instead, I leaned away, gathered all my battery charge so I could find the strength not to succumb to him.

“This isn’t happening again,” I said. “That night—it was a mistake. A mistake I don’t intend to repeat.” Suddenly, my body felt heavy, and I slumped against my seat. Was exhaustion catching up to me?

He was silent for a moment. Then, “I’m driving,” he said coldly. “Get out of the car.”

“You’re not driving.”

“Yes, I am.”

“This isn’t even your car!”

“It is until you finish my motorcycle.”

How did the conversation suddenly come to this point? We were just…

He slid out of the car and pulled open my door.

“You can barely keep your eyes open. I’m not letting you drive like this.”

He was right. I was very tired; I could hardly lift my head. I felt like the cheese in my whiz was gone, the fizz in my pop evaporated. I was too exhausted to argue with him.

The car was warming up considerably, and I thanked God that I could barely detect Dylan’s toxic cologne. I yawned, covering my mouth with my hand.

I only had three hours of sleep last night and just a little more than that every night this past week. Trying to fulfill both my work and school duties was taking its toll. And it was so easy to just give up trying to control everything for a while. Just for a little while.

Instead of getting out of the car, I crawled to the passenger side as slow as a turtle, taking my sweet time. I heard him sigh, then suddenly, he was on the other side of my car, closing the passenger door.

How the hell did he get there so fast?