"You're hot when you're mad."
"And you're an ass, you annoying shitwad," she spat.
Strangely enough, though, whenever the dick himself is facing a direction that doesn't involve her having to look at that prick's smug face, she can't keep her eyes off of his ass. That perfect ass. The ass that was not too flat, not too wide, and firm but squeezable. Definitely squeezable.
"Better to be an ass than a nice guy who gets stepped on."
"There is a difference between being nice and being a people-pleaser, you know."
"You're right. You're one rather than the other."
"Aw, c'mon Jean," She gripped the front of the bastard's shirt and yanked him to her eye-level. "We both know I'm not nice."
"Does that mean you please others, then?" There was that goddamn smirk. She gave him a death stare and frowned, her lips pursed together and her eyes unblinking, at that moment, if her eyes were a weapon, the piercing look in then could have caused serious destruction. Bringing his body forward some more, she hissed, "Never."
A laugh.
An obnoxious laugh that was followed by a small snort (and he wonders why people refer to him as horse-face, Jesus) escaped his irritating mouth as he pulled to his full height. She hated those few inches he had over her. Those few inches that could've given her some leverage over him, literally. Instead, those few inches (that actually translated to two inches) got to that cynical head of his. That same head that made her want to both smash said body part into a very solid (maybe almost as dense as the guy himself) wall, yet ravish it in kisses. God, she hated him.
She ground her teeth and snapped at him. "What? What's so fucking funny, Kirstein?"
He laughed a little more, "You sound so serious when you call me that. Like some officer or something." Her eyes narrowed into deadly slits, almost like she was warning him if he continued. And continue he did.
"But you know, usually officers are taller and a lot more intimidating than you."
Her hands closed into fists and she leaned forward, daring him to repeat once more the words that had been spoken with that shit-eating grin of his.
And then she let go with a hard shove that sent him into the dirt.
When he came to, he asked, "What was that for?"
"Because you're annoying," she huffed and turned away. It was his turn to stare at her seemingly perfect ass. His recovery was quick and silent as she stood and pouted. She oddly felt bad for throwing him into the dirt, knowing he deserved it. So when she turned to offer him a hand up (because she totally wasn't nice), she was met with his hard chest and a suave smile. He took her moment of stunned silence to bend down and murmur in her ear, "I bet that pleases you."
And, oh, God, was that sexy.
Bringing a foot down on his toes, she turned her back to him once more (another opportunity for him to admire her ass), her face aflame. With a hmph, she could almost feel his satisfaction radiating off of him in waves. As if her giving him pain gave him gratification.
"You're hot when you're mad," he told her once more.
"Yeah. And you're fucking hot when you bother me, asswipe."