Page 121 of The Way I Hate Him
“If I had you, then you wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.”
“You’re right.” He stands from the floor and lifts the covers to my bed. When I look up at him, he nods toward the slanted ceiling. “Scoot over.”
“Hayes.”
“You want to see how you own me? This is it. Now scoot over.”
I bite on my bottom lip and contemplate the implications of this. If I scoot over and he lies down next to me, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over the feel of him tucked in behind me, but if I don’t scoot over, I give up the chance of being able to feel him wrapped around me all night.
My muddled brain can’t quite seem to figure out just how bad this might be, so instead of properly weighing the pros and cons, I scoot over, and he slips in behind me, wrapping his bulky arm around my waist and pulling me in close to his chest.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he asks, his mouth right next to my ear.
“I want more,” I say.
“I can’t give you more, especially when you’re drunk. But I’m willing to give you this.” His hand slips under my shirt, and his palm presses against my stomach. The warm feel of his grip soothes my aching soul immediately.
“If this is all I can get, then I’ll take it,” I say right before turning toward him and taking one more chance. I kiss his lips, and thankfully, he doesn’t turn away. He lets me explore for a few seconds before I pull back.
He sighs heavily, his teeth tugging on his lower lip, and when I start to turn around, he stops me, bringing his hand to the back of my head and covering my mouth again with his.
I melt into his hold, knowing this is temporary because he doesn’t part my mouth with his tongue. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, just skims the surface of what could be so much more before he ends the kiss.
His eyes bore into mine, the expression in them so sad that I can’t take it and turn back around.
His grip on me tightens as he buries his head into my hair.
“Fuck . . . I like you, Hattie.”
My heart nearly shatters. His rough, tortured voice pierces me to my very core.
“I like you too, Hayes.”
And that’s the last thing we say to each other before we fall asleep.
ChapterFourteen
HATTIE
The slam of a door wakes me from a cold, dead sleep. I pop my head up just as I hear feet storm up the steps to my apartment, followed by a banging on my door.
Hayes stirs awake behind me and pops up his head as well.
“Hattie, open this goddamn door.”
Fuck . . . it’s Ryland.
Hayes and I exchange looks at the same time as fear creeps up the back of my neck.
There is no other way out of here than that door—the one Ryland is pounding on.
And if I open that door, and Ryland sees Hayes in here, there is no way Hayes will be leaving.
“I will break this fucking door down. Now open up.” He bangs again, and I scramble to get out of bed. Hayes helps me by lifting me over him and placing me on the floor.
“He’s going to murder you,” I whisper.
“I’ll be fine,” Hayes says.
