If Only...

"What made you think that I gave two shits about that?" Raze asked nonchantantly.

I stared at him incredulously. "Who asked you to care?" I retorted, snatching the cup from his hand and downing the corner of liquor left in it. "I sure as hell didn't. All I wanted was a quick lay and you proved to be very futile in giving it to me. I didn't say anything about more or beyond that."

He arched an eyebrow at that before his head tilted to the side, as he studied me. I knew my blue-green eyes were red and bloodshot, but I honestly didn't care. He was staring at me at my worst and still thinking about fuck*ng. How like a man, especially one like him.

"You want more, all women do," he responded. "Regardless of the fact that I don't want to be, I'm addictive, baby."

"You're addicted, alright," I snapped. "Addicted to that bullshit you sprout. You weren't even that good. I've had better. Ten times better. My ex put more into it, than you did."

I was lying, but he didn't need to know that. His ego needed to be put in check and I had no problem doing that.

His eyes flashed for a moment before the words parted his lips. "Wanna bet, babe?"

I barely had time to comprehend that he spoke before his lips came crashing down onto mine.

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