"I get it more than you realize," he said, taking a more direct approach. "In fact, I get that this is more about you than it is about Cassie."
An impatient sound escaped her. "What the hell are you talking about?"
He shrugged. "It's about you and your past and how you've lived your life."
"How I've lived my life?" she repeated, brows raised incredulously. "Please, do tell me what you think you know."
If she wanted to play that kind of hardball, then he was game, and he didn't hesitate to step up to the plate. "I think that as a result of what happened with Tim and those other boys who thought you were easy, you decided to use sex to your own advantage, and as a way to keep any guy from getting too close. Sex is pleasurable and easy, and if you keep it all about the physical, it keeps you in control and there's no threat to your emotions. How am I doing so far, sweetheart?"
"Not very well," she lied. "You're way off base."
"Really?" he drawled lazily. "Then what have you been doing with me for the past few weeks? You've been trying to use sex to scratch whatever itch you think you might have, and you've been annoyed as hell that I haven't given in to your numerous attempts at seduction and screwed you, like every other guy that's come before me. That would have been ideal for you, wouldn't it have been?"
She jabbed him in the chest with a finger. "You are so full of shit."
He laughed, but the sound lacked any true humor. "Personally, I think I'm hitting way too close to the truth, and you don't like what you're hearing."
"Go to hell, Daniel." Her nostrils flared, as did her temper. "In fact, while we're at it, why don't we just put an end to this thing between us, right here and now."
That didn't surprise Daniel one bit. It was an easy way out, and she was taking it. "Just in case you didn't know, because you haven't had all that much experience with them, it's called a relationship, Syd."
She waved a hand between them and adopted an I-don't-give-a-damn attitude. "Yeah, whatever you want to call it, it's not going anywhere."
Oh, but it was, or else she wouldn't be scrambling to end things. "It's just not going where you want it to go. Isn't that what you mean?"
She glanced away and rubbed at her forehead with her fingers. He knew he was putting her through an emotional wringer, but it was necessary if they were going to have any chance at a future together, and he wanted that with her more than anything.
Finally, she looked back at him, her fortitude back in place. "The truth of the matter is that a relationship between us would never work. We're just too different, Daniel."
No way was he letting her off with such a simple, unexplained statement. "How so?" he persisted.
She clearly wasn't happy that he was pushing the issue, but to her credit she didn't brash off his question. "Look at you, and look at me. Compare your childhood to the one I just told you about. Compare my heroin addict mother and my father who was a nameless John, to your wealthy family who no doubt cares about those things," she said critically. "Your parents would take one look at me, and once they found out I had a daughter at the age of fourteen out of wedlock, and that I own a bar where I dance on the countertops to entertain the customers and help sell more alcohol, they'd probably disown you for being involved with someone like me."
Disowning him would be a bit extreme, but unfortunately, he knew his parents had a tendency to judge people. "I don't give a shit what my parents think of you."
"Well, you should," she said, her gaze bright with conviction. "They no doubt expect someone better for you. Someone who is sweet and refined and loves going to Sunday brunch with the family and would be satisfied to be a stay at home mother and wife."
All the things she believed she wasn't. "My parents do expect a lot from me, but I've never bended to their expectations and I don't intend to now," he stated firmly. "If that were the case, I'd be a doctor, not a math teacher, and I would have married the sweet, refined debutante my mother set me up with when I was twenty. This is my life, not theirs, and I don't need their permission to date you, or anyone else."
She suddenly looked tired and weary, but she didn't back down from her own personal fight. "Let me set you straight, Daniel. I'm the kind of woman that men fuck, not the kind that they take home to meet their family or marry."
He met and held her dark gaze. "I disagree."
"Well, then it's time for you to pull your head out of the clouds and face the reality of who and what I am." Her expression hardened, grew cool and defiant and relentless in her quest to make him understand. "I was a stripper in a gentlemen's club for years, because the tips were outstanding and it helped me to survive and take care of Cassie. Men paid me damn good money for the illusion of sex, no big surprise there," she added wryly. "But do you know how I got the business loan to open up my own bar? The guy at the bank struck a deal with me. Sex in exchange for him pushing my loan application through. So, I slept with him to get what I wanted. Not exactly what a good girl would do, now is it?"
Knowing that she was baiting him, he didn't bother to answer the theoretical question.
"And like every other guy who's come before you, that's all this thing between us is about. Sex. Except you won't give me what I want."
A slight, mocking smile curved the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, imagine that."
Her annoyance spilled over into a deeper, darker resentment. "There's only one thing I want from you, Daniel, so don't make this affair into something more than it is. In fact, since you won't give me what I want, get the hell out of my bar and don't come back." She turned away and started back toward her desk.
Oh, she'd like that, and her pretense of indifference pissed him off more than anything else, because he knew that she felt something for him. That it was more than just a physical thing between them, and now she was quick to end their affair before those emotions had a chance to take root and grow. Well, he wasn't about to let her walk away without giving her something to think about.
He grabbed her arm before she passed him, and in the next moment he had her pressed up against the wall, his body pinning hers in place. Her lips parted to say something, most likely to tell him off with that smart mouth of hers, but he didn't give her the chance. He slanted his lips over hers and took full and complete possession of her mouth. His tongue sank deep, tasting, taking, ravaging-and being the bold and reckless woman that she was, Sydney kissed him back just as aggressively, and with an unmistakable edge of anger.
As their mouths and tongues dueled for supremacy, she pushed her hands between their bodies and skimmed her fingers down to the waistband of his pants. She started unbuckling his belt, and he grasped her wrists, pulled her hands away, and secured them at the sides of her head, refusing to let her take control of this situation, or make it all about sex.
No, this was about them connecting on a deeper, more intimate level. This was about breaking down barriers and getting Sydney to open up and trust him with her heart and emotions.
A moan of frustration rose up in her throat, and he changed the tenor of the kiss. Easing up on the hard pressure of his mouth against hers, he kissed her slow and gentle, and used his lips to coax and seduce. Gradually, he felt the change in her, too. Her tense body relaxed and flowed against his, and the hands he'd pinned against the wall grew slack, as well. Her mouth softened beneath his, and he swirled his tongue around hers, tasting that soul-deep vulnerability of hers, along with the fear of letting someone close enough to hurt her.