Page 119 of The Way I Hate Him
“Yes,” he answers without looking away.
“Ugh,” I groan. “You’re so frustrating. You realize that? I don’t want to like you, Hayes, but you make it hard.”
“I’m sorry.” He strokes my cheek again.
“Are you really?” I ask.
He nods. “I am. Trust me, if circumstances were different, you wouldn’t be frustrated with me.”
“What would I be?” I ask.
His voice grows dark as he says, “You’d be full of me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, hating how one sentence made my muscles tighten and go from loose drunk to full on aroused.
I bite down on my lip. “How full?”
His thumb drags over my jaw. “Fuller than you’ve ever been, that’s for damn sure.”
“Show me,” I practically beg him.
“You know I can’t, Hattie. I can’t cross that line.”
“But you want to . . .”
He breaks eye contact for the first time and drops his hand from my face. “Not a question I should answer.” To my surprise, he leans down and places a soft kiss on my head, the kind of kiss that screams friend zone. There’s nothing passionate about it. And all it does is anger me. “Get some sleep.” He pulls away, but I grip the nape of his neck, holding him in place. When his eyes meet mine, they plead with me. “Don’t, Hattie.”
I tug him an inch closer.
“Hattie . . .”
I sit up some more, making it so our faces are at eye level.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I say to him, taking one more risk.
“I . . . I . . . think you need to sleep.”
“That’s not saying you don’t want this.”
The space between us zaps with the electric need bouncing between us, and as I close the space, making sure there’s only a whisper between our mouths, I feel the stuttering in his breath and the heat of his body.
“Please . . . don’t.” His voice drips with desperation, but he doesn’t pull away. He remains still, and the moment he wets his lips, I know I’m not going back.
This is it.
I’m taking what I want.
And I do.
My mouth covers his for the first time, my kiss shattering the fine line that’s been drawn. He stiffens under my touch, but it’s only for a millisecond as I work my mouth over his. With every kiss, he relaxes, and then to my absolute pleasure, he presses his thumb under my jaw to angle my mouth how he wants it.
And he kisses me back.
The fullness of his lips.
The demand of his mouth.
The energy he gives me.
