Indeed, with extra points for alliteration.
“Why are you being this way?” she shook her head, a piercing pain hitting her at his insult.
“This is how I am, nothing is different,” he replied with a shrug, turning away from her again. “Or did you expect me to change for you?”
“Oh, so you’re a caustic bastard with every witch you court?” she retorted. He turned and advanced on her, pushing her up against the opposite table and bending so his face was near hers.
“Precisely,” he hissed. “And what if I told you they loved it?” he gripped her chin and tilted it up so she was forced to look him in the eye…
He could not prevent himself from standing there several moments longer, just gazing at her; his own eyes surveying every surface of her face, memorizing freckles, the golden flecks of color in her eyes, every curve and bow of her lips, how her impudent curls seemed to wrap and trail tantalizingly over her neck and shoulders. Merlin, he wanted her badly. He wanted to touch and taste and feel so badly; to wrap himself in her essence and perhaps finally – finally – know what it was like to be free."