If You Hate Me

by Helena Hunting

His free hand slides into my hair and curls into a fist, holding my head. “You know what they say about playing with fire.” He twists my head, his lips dragging across my cheek until they reach my ear. “Bad little Bea,” he taunts, catching my earlobe between his teeth.

All three heads turn my way. Tristan is in the middle of a sip of orange juice—he drinks an irrational amount of juice. He chokes and coughs into his arm. I hop to the floor, plaster a bright smile on my face, and head for the fridge, passing Tristan. His eyes are wide, and his mouth hangs open. It’s comical, really. “What the fuck are you wearing?” he blurts.

“The fuck are you doing?” Tristan asks. “Getting the coffee beans, genius.” “Keep your fucking eyes to yourself, Bright,” Tristan snaps.

“Being attracted to me, even though you can’t stand me. So frustrating to abhor something and want it at the same time.” His eyes flare with surprise before they narrow. “Tread carefully, or you’ll wind up in over your head.” I poke him through his shorts. He’s definitely sporting a semi. I bet if I looked down, I’d see the ridge pushing against the fabric. “Your body betrays you,” I murmur. “What you wouldn’t give right now to be able to shut me up with your cock in my mouth, eh?”

And this kiss, this one fucking kiss is everything I didn’t want it to be. It’s not like any other. We’re years of history colliding. Her mouth on mine is a balm, and desperation has me tipping her head so I can deepen the kiss. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop. All I want is more.

She gives me an incredulous look. “I don’t even like you.” It’s what I need to hear. It stings, but I’ve mostly been a complete asshole to her, so I can’t expect any different. I push down the regret. She doesn’t deserve my vitriol. It’s not her fault she’s a constant reminder me of all the things I wish I deserved.

“Listen to how wet your pussy is for me. You pretend to be so sweet, but you’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? And I’m going to make you filthy.”

“Every time you think about the things I’ve done to you, and you’ll think about them often—” Probably with regret. “—you’re going to wish I’d taken your ass, too. And it’s going to drive you fucking mad that I didn’t, because you’re too inexperienced to handle me.”

“I get it. I get why you said no,” he tells me softly. “I just wanted you next to me. I hated last night. I didn’t want you to have to listen. I won’t be with anyone else while I’m gone. I haven’t and I won’t. I don’t want anyone else. There’s only you, okay? You’re the only one.” His eyes are wild. Haunted almost. He takes my hand and presses it against his cheek. “Just don’t go. Please, Bea? Don’t leave yet. I’m not done with you. I need more of you.”