Page 85 of The Chase

I wipe my mouth with the heel of my palm. “She didn’t split my lip,” I assure him. “It’s a scratch from her demon nails.”

He doesn’t even crack a smile. “Go back inside,” he repeats. “I’m leaving.”

Something about his expression raises my hackles.

Well, not something. I know exactly what’s bothering me—the disapproval shining in my direction.

“You’re pissed because I tackled that girl?” I demand.

“Of course I’m pissed.” He slams the driver’s door and marches toward me. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was defending myself and my friend,” I snap. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly enjoy repeatedly being called a slut.”

“And I don’t particularly enjoy bar brawls,” he retorts. His breath hangs in the frigid air before dissipating.

“Right, and I’m a habitual bar brawler!” I clench my teeth. Because I’m cold and they won’t stop chattering, but also because I have the craziest urge to bite him. Maybe I am a brawler.

“Whatever,” he says flatly. “I don’t want to be put in that position again, okay?”

“What position?”

“Where I have to defend your honor.”

My jaw drops. “I didn’t ask you to! You’re the one who decided to throat-grab that jerk. Granted, he had it coming—”

“He wouldn’t have opened his fool mouth if you hadn’tattacked his girlfriend,” Fitz cuts in. He shakes his head at me, scowling deeply. “I don’t like to fight, Summer. I learned a long time ago that problems don’t need to be solved with fists.”

“He groped Brenna,” I remind Fitz. “He deserved a fist.”

I can tell from his inflexible expression that he doesn’t agree. In Fitz’s mind, I forced him into a bar fight, end of story.

I turn on my heels. “I’m going back inside.”

“No.”

With an incredulous look, I spin around. “Are you serious right now? I’m doing what you want! You keep telling me to go inside.”

“Changed my mind,” he barks. “I’m taking you home. You’ve caused enough trouble for one night.”

“Icaused trouble! What about the maniac who dumped water all over Brenna? Or her sleazy, gropey boyfriend? I cannot believe you’re blamingmefor anything that happened in there!”

He takes a step forward and I whip both hands up in a martial arts pose. I took three months of karate when I was twelve. I can take him.

“If you throw me over your shoulder, I will scream my bloody lungs out,” I warn. “It’s not my fault you decided to punch someone tonight. Deal with the consequences of your own actions.”

Dark eyes blaze at me. “I wouldn’t have to deal with these consequences if you hadn’t gotten your panties in a knot over some silly girl who wasn’t worth your anger.”

Just like that, my body reacts as if someone cranked my internal arousal meter up toDanger: Orgasm Imminent. Aguy as sexy as this one isn’t allowed to say the word panties. Because now I’m imagining a variation of that sentence. In my head, I hear his deep voice rumbling,“I want to rip your panties off with my teeth, Summer.”

“Don’t you fucking look at me like that.”

My gaze jerks toward his. Okay, the words aren’t the same, but the growly rasp is exactly what I’d heard in my head.

“Like what?” I ask weakly. My pulse has gone from zero to a million in a split second, making my knees wobble.

“You know what I’m talking about.” He hisses out a breath. “And you need to stop it.”

“Stop what?”

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