Page 41 of When love and Hate Collide

We look at one another at the same time and for the longest moment we say nothing. Those darn butterflies start fluttering in my stomach again and I’m not even going to get into the dull ache between my legs and the dampness of my underwear.

Why the hell am I wet right now?

“I’ll take those.” Dean plucks the torn underwear out of my hold, and my face twists with disgust.

“No, you bloody won’t.” I reach to snatch it from him, but he pulls it out of my reach. “You’re not keeping my underwear, Dean.”

“Yes, I am.”

I gape at him, my eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “What the hell for?”

Dean licks his lips, his eyes darkening while he watches me intently. “To suck on them when I’m hungry.” My jaw slackens and I gawp at him in absolute revulsion. He’s got to be pulling my leg, surely.

“You’re disgusting.” I voice flatly and he smiles back at me wickedly and twirls my thong around his finger.

“You have no idea,” he wags his dark brows at me suggestively, a dark glint in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll frame it and hang it up on my wall like a plaque.” I wince, picturing my worn thong hanging on his bedroom wall where his parents and Ashlyn will see it day in, day out. “Or maybe I’ll keep it in my wallet, so I can recall the mind-blowing scent and taste of you when I’m back at base and need some mental stimulation to rub one out.” A slow shaky breath pushes past my lips, and I don’t even know why my body is quivering with the thought of him stroking himself while thinking about me.

When I stare at him wordlessly, lips parted, eyes likely bulging and my heart beating in my vagina he laughs and tosses the thong at me, shaking his head amusedly.

The rotten bastard, hewashaving me on.

“Smarmy prick,” I utter, pushing his legs to the side and leaning over to continue looking for the earring my dad bought me for my sixteenth birthday. It’s so dark I can’t see a damn thing and it seems Dean is having a grand old time. Like the idiot I am I don’t realise that while I’m rummaging under his seat, he’s grinning like a div watching me between his legs. “I can’t see a damn thing. Can you turn the bloody light on?” my voice is muffled, but the cars interior light flickers on a second later.

A couple of seconds later I sit upright with a groan, rubbing my ribs where the handbrake began digging into me. I should just leave it and have a look for it in the morning when it’s light out, but I’m being stubborn. I shift, push myself up by placing my knees on the seat to avoid being poked in the ribs again. “Move your legs.”

Dean looks at me and then at his legs, “Where exactly would you like me to move them? We’re in a car, JJ. We don’t exactly have much room in here. Just leave it, I’ll find it tomorrow.”

“No, I want it now!” I argue stubbornly. Dean curses under his breath and sits up straight, pushing his legs apart further to give me room to lean over and look. It would have been easier if I just asked him to get out of the car so I can get under the seat but I wasn’t really in the right headspace to be thinking logically… evidently.

After casting Dean a dark glare, I lean over completely oblivious that he can now see up my skirt through the reflection of the window.

“You know, it’s a good thing there’s no one around because they would be getting quite the show right now.”

“What?” I groan, reaching further under the seat. My shoulder is going to pop out of its socket if I go any further.

“Not that I’m complaining, but you’ve got your peachy arse on full display,” he voices with a chuckle. I finally locate my earring poking out from under the mat and pick it up. Nice one Jeyla, just bear your rear end to him, and give him even more reason to think you’re a cock starved tramp.

“Well, I suppose it would have been too much to ask of you to be a gentleman and maybe avert your gaze to protect my modesty,” I mumble sourly propping my aching feet on the dashboard once I sit back in the seat.

“Earlier you were chewing me out about not needing to be saved and now you want me to protect your modesty. I can’t fucking win with you.” I sigh, closing my eyes. My temples are throbbing and I’m trying not to think about the need to pee. “Get your feet off my dashboard.”

I shrug. “My feet hurt.”

Dean glowers at me. “I don’t care. It’s a thirty-thousand-pound car, JJ. Get your feet off or you’ll find yourself sitting on the side of the road.” I yield and remove my feet off his dashboard. Instead of setting them on the ground, I twist my body around to face him before I drop my feet into his lap. Dean’s face contorts and I bite back the urge to laugh when he stares down at my feet. “Are you kidding me?”

I smirk. “No, I told you my feet hurt and if I’m going to be forced to spend the night with you in this car, I’m going to damn well make sure I’m comfortable,” I affirm, crossing my arms over my chest.

Dean doesn’t argue, instead he closes his eyes and sighs, “Fucking hell, your feet stink.” I hear him complain a moment later.

“No, they don’t,” I say affronted, wiggling my toes.

Dean glances down at my feet again, “I think I can smell them a little better since they’re right under my nose, JJ.”

“No love, your nose is just too close to your mouth.” I retort smarmily and his lips curl into an amused smile. I grin back in triumph and for a very fleeting moment it feels like it did when we were hanging out a few nights ago. I jiggle my legs a little in his lap, and he blinks looking at me. “Rub my feet.”

His face contorts again, “No, get lost. I’m not touching your crusty feet.”

“Excuse you, but I do not have crusty feet. In fact, if I recall this afternoon you were the one kissing them and swooning that I have the most beautiful feet you have ever seen.” I remind him lifting my foot into his face and he moves his head back, curls his long fingers around my ankle and pulls it back down into his lap again.

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