Page 172 of The Way I Hate Him
Ruben:Good. What’s this change of heart?
Hayes:The girl who was working for me, Hattie? Yeah, we’re seeing each other, and for the first time in a really long time, I feel peaceful.
Ruben:I thought you weren’t allowed to be with her . . .
Hayes:Things changed. Her brother and I have come to an agreement. It’s a long story, but needless to say, we’re dating, and fuck, man, it feels good. I like her so fucking much. When she’s around, it actually feels like I’m able to see the world again.
Ruben:Then you have to work on that relationship. I know I bother you about songs and schedules and sponsorships, but in the end, you’re my friend, and I want you happy. If she makes you happy, then I’ll do whatever I have to so you can keep that happiness.
Hayes:I appreciate it, man. My career isn’t over, but fuck, I’d love the break.
Ruben:Then we’ll give you a break. I’ll check back in, just in case you change your mind.
Hayes:Sounds good, and hey, if you make it out here, you have a place to stay. Might be nice to finally show you around Almond Bay.
Ruben:Only if you make me some of those almond cherry cookies.
Hayes:If you get me out of my contract, I’ll make you enough cookies to fill a bathtub so you can bathe in them.
Ruben:Hard to turn that down.
I smile just as the bathroom door opens. I glance to the side only for my mouth to fall open. Standing in the doorway, one hand hanging on the doorframe, Hattie takes my fucking breath away.
Wearing what I can only assume is a thong, the strings high on her hips, and a cropped tank top, she stares me down with one thing on her mind . . . me. I can see it in her rapturous gaze.
“Jesus fuck,” I mumble as she turns off the bathroom light and struts toward me. “Hattie,” I say just as she straddles my lap.
My hands fall to her backside, and I was right . . . she’s wearing a thong.
“You look hot,” I say as my thumbs slip under her crop top and brush against her breasts. “Please tell me this is what you always wear to bed.”
“When I’m alone, yes.”
“You’re not alone right now,” I say as she moves over my hardening dick.
“You don’t count.” She pushes me back on the bed. I have to dodge the slanted ceiling, but I lie on the soft mattress and look up at her as she straddles my lap. Her hands fall to my chest, and she slowly rocks over my cock.
“Fuck,” I groan as I get a glimpse of the underside of her breasts as her body undulates over mine.
“Mmm, you’re already so hard,” she moans, moving slowly over my cock.
“With you, it takes a second,” I say as I run my hands up her thighs.
She leans down and places a kiss on my jaw, my cheek . . . my lips. I open my mouth for more, but she moves to my neck and then my collarbone.
When her fingers pass over my nipples, I lock my mouth shut from groaning, but when her tongue flicks over them, I can’t hold back. “Fuck, baby.”
“You like that?” she asks, almost surprised.
“I like it all,” I answer, giving her the go-ahead to do more, to take what she wants. To explore.
She continues to rock over me as she plays with my nipples, dragging her tongue over them, up my neck, back to my jaw, teasing me with her lips across mine until she moves back down my neck again, the trail of wetness igniting a deep sense of need inside me—a burning sensation that I know dry-humping will not take care of tonight. I’m going to need more.
More of her.
Whatever she’ll give me, I want it all.
Her kisses land against my heated skin, between my pecs, across my nipples where she sucks on one, and I groan in response. She smirks and then drags her tongue to my stomach, where my breathing halts, and my body stiffens. She swirls her tongue over every one of my abs, and when she reaches the last one and moves down between my legs, I lift just enough to look at her. “Hattie . . .”
