Him calling me princess makes my blood boil. I can’t let him win this. I can’t give in.
I purse my glossed lips, “Yes.”
“Good,” he says. “If you want me to stop, say it. I’ll understand if this is too much for you.”
The same words coming out of anybody else’s mouth would be reasonably interpreted as compassionate and understanding. Coming out of Cole's s**t eating grin, though? They’re anything but. I’ve been hyper-competitive since I was a little girl, which Cole knows. I know he’s intentionally pushing my buttons, but knowing this doesn’t make his comment any less aggravating. In fact, it probably makes it worse.
I don’t say anything. I cross my tanned arms and make eye contact with him, refusing to break.
He chuckles, “That’s what I thought.”
Just then, the waiter reappears with a
