" You like me,” he finally said. “You like me, like me.” He was trying not to smile.
“No. I hate you,” I said, hoping that saying it would make it so.
“And yet, you draw me.” Noah was still smug, completely undeterred by my declaration.
This was torture; worse somehow than what just happened, even though it was only the two of us. Or because it was only the two of us.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why what?” What could I say? Noah, despite you being an asshole, or maybe because of it, I’d like to rip off your clothes and have your babies. Don’t tell. "

― Michelle Hodkin , The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer (Mara Dyer, #1)