The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 217

His cold, captivating face was just inches from hers, and the intense pressure on her lips left no room for doubt–this wasn’t a dream, not a trick of her imagination. Jamison was kissing her.

Out of nowhere, right there on the side of the street, in her own car, he’d just grabbed her and kissed her.

Ivy sat frozen, wide–eyed and stunned, as if she’d turned to stone.

Several seconds passed before she registered the insistent pull of his lips on hers. Snapping back to reality, she shoved him away with all her strength and, without thinking, slapped him hard across the face.

The smack rang out, and Jamison’s head jerked to the side.

For a moment, the air inside the car felt thick and heavy, broken only by their ragged breathing.

Ivy kept glaring at him, her mind in chaos, watching as he slowly turned his handsome face back toward her. His expression was dark, almost menacing. Instinctively, she swallowed, and blurted out, “You started it! Don’t blame me for defending myself!”

If he wanted to act out of line, she wasn’t about to just sit there and take it.

Jamison lifted a hand to his cheek, rubbing the spot where she’d struck him, but then–to her astonishment–a slow grin spread across his lips.

“Ivy, you’re something else! That’s the first time in my life anyone’s ever slapped me.”

Ivy was dumbfounded, swallowing hard but saying nothing.

He seemed to swing between fury and amusement, his mood shifting in a heartbeat. It was unnerving.

After a moment, Jamison ran his fingers along his jaw, the playful glint in his eyes growing bolder. “You know, Ivy, after that kiss, you can’t pretend we’re strangers anymore.”

“What?” Ivy frowned, incredulous. “That’s absurd! You’re completely enreasonable!” “Maybe. But you caught my attention, and once that happens, it’s not so easy to get away.”

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“When did I ever try to get your attention?” Ivy shot back, scrubbing at her lips as if she could erase the memory.

No matter how hard she wiped, his presence lingered–the scent of him, annoyingly fresh and clean. Not unpleasant, actually. Still, she wanted nothing to do with it.

“Every time we bump into each other, you pick a fight with me,” Jamison continued, ticking off grievances like a prosecutor. “The time I was waiting for Naylor at the restaurant, you sat down across from me and delivered a full round of sarcasm–don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Ivy remembered that all too well.

“That was a mistake. I thought you were someone else–I apologized, didn’t I?”

“If that’s what you call an apology, it sure didn’t sound like one.”

Ivy fell silent. She’d had it out for Jamison from the start; every encounter seemed to end badly.

“And then, when you were house–hunting, you managed to challenge me at every turn,” Jamison added, recounting every detail with infuriating precision.

Ivy’s lips were sore from rubbing, and now, with every one of his accusations, she felt a twinge of guilt. Finally, she snapped, “Are you done yet? Weren’t we supposed to get dinner? I’m starving!”

Jamison’s gaze lingered on her, taking in her swollen lips and flushed cheeks. Even angry, she looked almost cute. A sly, knowing smile crept across his face.

“Trying to change the subject? Not so fast. After that kiss, you have to admit there’s something between us.”

“Jamison! Has anyone ever told you this is a terrible way to win a woman over?”

“I don’t care about anyone else. This is how I do things.”

Ivy stared at him, cheeks puffed in frustration. There was just no reasoning with

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