She plopped back down onto the leather interior. “I wasn’t fucking, fucking with you.”

“Then, what the hell were you doing?”

Andrea opened her mouth to explain, but he’d had enough talk from her. There was no way she could explain her actions. She’d toyed with him. Wanted him to be jealous about her being with Bad Suit—douche bag Asher McWalter—as if the guy could ever live up to Clay…as if he could give Clay a reason to be jealous.

“If you would just let me…”

He dug his fingers into her thighs until she stopped talking. He crawled his hands up her perfect milky-white skin, hoping he’d leave fingerprint bruises all up her inner thighs to remind her just whose girl she was.

She groaned, grasping the seat and lifting her ass, urging him on.

He tore the remaining piece of her dress, stripping away her last vestige of modesty, revealing once again that she wasn’t wearing anything at all underneath it.

“Making a habit of this?” he asked.

“You like it.”

“I wear bow ties, and you go commando. I think I got the better end of the deal.”

Her eyes fluttered closed again when his fingers finally made it all the way up her legs. Clay pressed them open wide and teasingly circled his finger, so he was close to touching her where she was clearly demanding but not quite. He could sense her frustration and desperation, see it in her brow. When he saw her eyes start to flicker back open to demand he touch her, he slipped his fingers between her lips and slicked them with her wetness.

And, fuck, was she wet.

He plunged two fingers deep inside her and then drew them up against her walls in just the way he knew she liked. She whimpered softly, and the sound was music to his ears. Leaning forward, he roughly swirled his tongue around her clit until she was bucking beneath him.

The back of the limo had never held so much appeal to him. He forgot all about his aching ribs and the echoes of their argument. Instead, he just focused on this one task—making her come. And she would, goddamn it. He could fucking guarantee that. He was good at many things, but sex was his specialty.

Andrea pushed her pussy up against his face, begging for the release he was holding just out of range. If she wanted to toy with him, he could toy with her. Oh, sure, she would come—when he let her.

“Clay…” she moaned.

“Say it again.”

“Clay fucking Maxwell.”

“That’s right,” he said with a grin.

Then, he circled his tongue around her clit, and she came all over his face.

He didn’t waste any time. She lay there, panting. The second fucking orgasm he’d given her, unreciprocated, in two weeks. He was damn sure he was getting his own tonight—more than once, if he could ignore his damn ribs long enough.

Clay unceremoniously yanked down the zipper of his tuxedo pants, pulled his dick out, and maneuvered to enter her. She shuddered as he thrust up inside her. Her walls were still contracting from the pleasure he’d just provided, and he could feel the heady remnants of her orgasm.

He wasn’t easy on her body either. Leaning his elbow on the cushion by her head, he drove deep and long into her, claiming her body. She moaned, tightening all around him. Her hands cupped his face. All remnants of their fight had fled her face. She looked up at him with dreamy hooded eyes, and all he saw was how beautiful she was. Even though he was taking her punishment out on her body, he still found her gorgeous beneath him.

“I love when you take me like this,” she said, digging her nails into his hair.

“Hard?”

“And rough,” she agreed.

He pounded into her harder at the words. Fuck, it’d been two fucking weeks. He was pretty sure that was a record.

And then she was shuddering underneath him again. She came out of nowhere, and in response, his body jerked and bucked as she squeezed him, tilted her head back, and cried out his name. He couldn’t help it. There was no stopping it. With that kind of reaction, his dick had its own fucking mind. He leaned forward and exploded inside her, lost in the throes of release.

When he returned to himself, he slipped out of her and crashed back onto the limo seat next to her. She eased into the tiny space next to him, lying on her side, her chest heaving.

“Goddamn it, Clay,” she whispered.

“Mmm,” he murmured. He was feeling really drowsy. Since his ribs were now on fire—maybe physical activity had been a bad idea—he thought sleeping sounded pretty awesome.

“How can I stay mad at you now?” she said.

“Why the fuck are you mad at me?” he bit out. “You’re the one who broke the rules.”

“Rules are meant to be broken.”

“I’m a lawyer, honey. Try again.”

“That means you know exactly how to bend and break the rules to your liking,” she said. “I’ve learned a thing or two from you over the years. Don’t forget; I was there for the three miserable years of law school.”

“Oh, fuck, not this again.” He closed his eyes against the same conversation they’d had on multiple occasions. “Just because we made it through law school together doesn’t entitle you to anything.”

“Every other couple we knew has broken up or gotten divorced!” she reminded him. “Every one!”

“That’s because one person would get pissed that the other one was fucking other people. You and I didn’t give a shit about that. We had an arrangement with rules. Remember? That’s why we survived my three years in law school.”

“You’re so thick sometimes.”

He smirked. “I definitely am. You just felt how thick I am.”

Andrea snorted and sat up. Without a second thought, she grabbed the ends of her destroyed dress, tied them into a knot on the side of her leg, and somehow managed to regain all her dignity. “Not everything is about your dick.”

“Just most things.”

Andrea was silent the rest of the way back to their house. He let her brood. He was pissed enough for the both of them.

At some point, he must have dozed off because Andrea shook him awake when the limo had stopped. Clearly, he was more exhausted than he’d known. And the pain meds were wearing off.

They entered their house together, and Clay went straight for the pill bottle. He took another one to douse the flames in his sides. When he rounded back toward the foyer, Andrea was standing with her hands on her hips, staring at him.