“We are enemies with history. Enemies who hate each other.” I don’t bother to look at him, but I know he’s shaking his head. “You don’t hate me.” “Oh, I have every reason to.” “But that doesn’t mean you do.” I huff and push my palms against his chest. “Put me down.” He holds me tighter. “You know what I think?” “No, actually, I don’t give a damn what you—” “I think you hate that you can’t hate me.” My face is inches from his. “Oh, I can hate you just fine.” “Then hate that you feel something for me.” His hand skims my thigh while the other presses me firmly against him. “Hate me for making you
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