Make Me Hate You

by Kandi Steiner

“Please,” I begged, fisting my hands in his shirt to hold him closer but still trying to shove him away. “Please, just make me hate you.” Tyler’s knuckles found my chin, and he tilted it until I was staring up at him through wet lashes. Just the sight of the pain in his eyes made another surge of emotion assault my chest, and I winced, rolling my lips to fight off more tears. “Only if you make me hate you first.” Tyler stilled when the words came from his lips, and I tilted my head, confused. But before I could ask him what he meant, he grabbed my chin and crashed his mouth to mine. That kiss… that connection of lips, of heat and want, of regret and longing, of a past life and a present one — it hit me like an anvil to the chest. My next breath was stolen, and I’d barely registered that Tyler was kissing me before his tongue skated against my lips, seeking access, and I opened, letting him in like there was no other option. There never had been. It had always been him. It had always been us. And that kiss — that passionate, painful, bruising kiss told me that he knew it, too.