Page 104 of Sexting the Boss

I glare at him. “Oh, so now I’m dramatic?”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he just shakes his head, grabs my wrist again, but gentler this time, and starts leading me toward the exit.

I could protest. I should protest.

But I don’t.

The moment I sink into the leather seat, I regret this decision.

The car smells like him.

Like woodsmoke, expensive cologne, and something purely Damien.

I fold my arms and stare out the window, determined to ignore him.

He settles into the driver’s seat, exhaling like he’s trying to stay patient.

We don’t talk until we hit the road, the streetlights casting shadows inside the car.

“You were jealous,” he says after a beat.

I scoff, turning to him. “Excuse me?”

His hands grip the wheel, but his expression is calm. Too calm.

“You saw me dancing with Nina,” he continues, like he’s stating a fact. “And you lost it.”

I turn my body toward him, bristling. “I did not lose it.”

“You drank half the bar and tried to escape.”

I grit my teeth. “I drank because I was in a room full of stuck-up people and felt out of place. Not because of you.”

Damien hums, like he doesn’t believe me.

“I don’t care who you dance with,” I add.

“Good,” he says, flicking his gaze to me at a red light. “Because the only person I wanted to dance with was you.”

My breath catches.

Heat rises up my neck, something traitorous sparking in my stomach.

I cross my legs, shifting in my seat. “You’re insufferable,” I mutter.

Damien chuckles lowly, the sound wrapping around me like silk. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

I whip my head toward him, my glare burning. “Do you have a death wish?”

The smirk grows. “Possibly.”

I open my mouth to fire back, but suddenly?—

He pulls over.

The car is still running, but we’re on the side of a quiet, dimly lit street.

I blink. “What are you doing?”

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