Page 161 of The Way I Hate Him
Hair all mussed, no socks on, just jeans, and his perfectly toned chest on full display, he’s so handsome that it actually hurts to look at him.
“What?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I can’t focus with you playing your guitar shirtless, so if you would please go in your studio or dress yourself, that would be appreciated.”
The proudest of smiles crosses his face as he rests his arm on the top of his guitar and stares into my very soul with his alluring eyes. “Are you saying you’re having a hard time concentrating because you can’t stop staring at me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, and no, I don’t need you to rub it in.”
“Oh, I want to rub something, that’s for damn sure,” he says as he stands and sets his guitar down.
“Stop right there, mister,” I say, holding my hand up. “There will be no touching or humping while I’m on the job. I will not be paid for sex.”
“Fine, you’re fired. I’ll rehire you after.” He steps over a pile of papers, and I stand, backing away.
“I’m serious, Hayes.”
His eyes are hungry and dangerous. “So am I.”
Oh dear God.
He lunges toward me, and I scoot out of the way, a scream falling off my tongue as I run behind the kitchen island.
He glances in my direction, hair falling over his forehead, determination clear. “Hattie,” he says, straightening up. “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way.” He walks toward the kitchen, his jeans loose on his narrow, ripped waist, his chest proud, and those boulder-like arms pulling my attention. He’s so hot.
And I’m just distracted enough to forget I’m keeping him away. He moves to my side of the island, and I quickly round the corner to the other side.
Both hands on the counter, palms flat against the cold surface, he stares me down. “Hattie, you won’t like what happens if you don’t give in easily.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask, slowly backing up.
“I am,” he answers as he turns and runs toward me.
I scream and sprint down the hallway, his footsteps close behind, so close that I juke to the left to try to throw him off but realize it’s a huge mistake because I juked right into his bedroom. I pause for a millisecond to figure out what to do, but that’s all it takes. He scoops me up from behind and then tosses me on the bed.
Shocked, I look up to see him kneel on the bed and practically crawl toward me, looking like a desperate wolf about to eat his prey. I scoot back on my butt and hands until I reach the headboard.
“Nowhere to go,” he says as he grabs my ankles and yanks me between his legs where he presses his weight on top of me.
Breathless, I say, “I did not come to your house to be sexualized, mister. I came to work.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.” He lowers his head and speaks directly into my ear. “You’re fired.” And then his lips press against my neck.
I sigh into his touch as his hands work up my shirt, tugging the fabric until he can’t move it anymore. That’s when I lift, and he pulls it over my head, leaving me in nothing but my bra.
His mouth floats up to my jaw and then to my lips where he controls my mouth like he has done every other kiss he’s given me. Demanding. He’s possessive with his movements, reiterating the narrative that I belong to him and only him.
From the touch of his warm palm to the slickness of his mouth and the press of his bulge into me, there’s no way I could ever want anyone else, not when Hayes makes me light up like this in seconds.
He groans as he releases my mouth and then bites down on my neck, probably leaving another mark like he did the night before. I woke up this morning with several bite marks I had to cover up, marks I had no problem touching, marveling at.
He travels past my collarbone and then straight to the swell of my breasts. His hands fall to my A cups, and he squeezes them as he buries his face between them, licking, sucking, biting.
He’s ravenous.
“Jesus,” I whisper as I grip the back of his head, my hips now seeking some relief.
He pulls back, flips one of the cups of my bra down, exposing my breast. “Fucking hell,” he mutters right before he laps at my nipple with the tip of his tongue. The sensation immediately causes me to buck up my hips.
