Page 146 of The Way I Hate Him
“Well, I hope you don’t pick up a bottle then. I’d be devastated if you tried to forget me now.”
“Not going to happen,” he says with a wink.
* * *
What a freaking day.
Woke up to run and spent the day with Hayes, but not like every other day. I got to hold his hand, lean into his embrace, kiss him whenever I wanted . . . guilt free. It’s been one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. In fact, if I think about it, it’s probably the most at peace I’ve felt since before Cassidy was diagnosed. Every day since has just been...hard. Today was like taking a deep, full breath.
Hand in hand, we walk to my car. The night settles above us, a dark blanket of sky and stars. He gently presses me up against the car door with his hands on my hips while I smooth my hands up his chest, staring into those beautiful eyes of his.
It was a really fun evening.
When I came over here earlier, I didn’t expect to stay so long. I didn’t even expect to leave with his lips imprinted on mine, but that quickly changed the moment I saw him. We spent the evening talking, joking, learning more about each other, and the more he told me, the more I liked him.
Hearing that he cheated on his girlfriend stung a bit, but I liked that he was honest about it, putting it all out there so nothing was hidden between us. I think it takes a big man to recognize when they’ve fucked up and the changes they’ve made to avoid making that mistake again. I appreciate that about him. It has given me more faith that he wouldn’t cheat on me.
I learned about his love for his grandma. His love for model trains because of his grandma’s close relationship with Rodney. His first love song was written about this girl he had a crush on back in middle school.How cute.He told me how he once stole one of Ethel’s boas—Abel dared him—and they buried it in Abel’s parents’ backyard, so scared that Ethel would find out and then kick-ball-change them all the way down to the police department.
And I loved every second of his stories, watching how animated he became, the expressions on his face, such a vast difference from the serious—guarded—man I spent time with.
“I wasn’t expecting this at all today,” he says, stealing the thoughts right from my head. “I planned on getting drunk tonight, writing some more lyrics that pertained to your eyes, your freckles, your idiotic piles of papers.” I chuckle. “But then you gave me the best fucking surprise ever by coming over and kissing me.”
The best surprise was him kissing me back rather than telling me no and he can’t do this. I’m so glad I didn’t have to beg and plead for him to give me a chance.Us. Give us a chance.
I play with the hem of his shirt, tugging on the thin fabric. “After I saw the way you redid the apartment above The Almond Store, I had to see you. Thank you, Hayes. I really love what you did there.”
“You’re welcome, Hattie,” he says, moving in closer. “It was cathartic, actually, and gave me some space to think on things too.” I wrap my arms around his neck, and he connects his forehead to mine. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up around six, okay?”
“Okay,” I say as I lift on my toes and press a kiss to his lips.
He sighs against my mouth before parting his lips and pressing into me.
It’s a delicious kiss, full of promises of what’s to come.
“Why are you smirking?” he asks when he pulls away.
“Nothing.”
He tilts my chin up. “Tell me.”
“I was just thinking how I want to take things slow, but now I’m unsure how slow I can really go when you kiss me like that.”
His eyes turn dark, hungry. “It will be torture, but I’ll go as slow as you want. Snail’s pace. Even though right now, if it were up to me, I’d have you bent over the hood of your car, pulling down your shorts, and sucking on your clit in seconds.”
Dear God.
I wet my lips as my chest grows heavy. I can practicallyfeelhim doing that. He’d own me, every inch of me. His hands would hold me down while his mouth did all the work, and it would be the best orgasm of my life. Just from the way he kisses me, I know it would be the best.
“Hattie,” he says in warning.
“What?” I ask, my gaze snapping up to him, falling out of my thoughts.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like youwouldlet me drape you over the hood of your car.”
