Page 33 of Hate It with You

That part of me has read too many dark romance books.

A larger part of me is too afraid to begin lessons. The part that fears it still won’t matter in the end. Past me was never able to protect herself before, so what would be the difference now?

While I can hold my own in a verbal fight, I have historically frozen with fear in physical ones. That's the one response that’s never spoken about enough.

Fight, flight, or freeze.

I’m the unfortunate one who got stuck with the curse of the third option.

The front door bells chime as I’m still deciding whether or not I should go next door. Alex stands in the doorway, looking as deliciously menacing as ever with his head cocked to the side as he looks at me.

“Good, you’re already dressed,” he says before he stomps toward me behind the counter. He’s referring to the leggings and sweatshirt combo I’ve thrown on this morning in anticipation of this very moment.

I’m not pleased with the way my heart rate ticks up and sends a rush of heat to my core when he approaches me, my eyes landing on his as the blue of his irises begins to deepen in color.

My mind needs to take control of my body once again. Otherwise, I’ll be fucked. Literally.

Before I can protest, Alex tosses me over his shoulder with little effort. One hand gripping my thighs. I faintly hear the jingle of my keys as his other hand reaches toward the counter.

“Put me down, you barbarian.” I land a few fisted hits to his back.

“If that’s the hardest you can hit, then we have some serious work to do.” His breath is relaxed as he carries my thicker frame to the front door, and his lack of effort aggravates me even more. I would’ve been happier if his muscles were just for show.

Accepting physical defeat, I use my greatest weapon, my words. “I see you’ve resorted to copying your little brother.” The reference comes from the fact that Theo did something similar to Sienna during our water balloon fight last year. Although that situation was more welcome to Sienna than this one is to me.

“Who do you think he learned this move from?” he asks as we exit my bookshop. I wiggle to glance over his shoulder to see what he’s doing. Thankfully, he locks my front door with my keys.

“I could’ve done that myself,” I say.

He’s walking us to his gym when he says, “Stop wiggling around, you’re going to fall.”

“Bite me,” I snap, my irritation at max level.

The sting on my ass comes out of nowhere, sending another rush of heat to my core, my inner thighs tightening in protest.

“Did you just spank me?” I all but shriek.

We make our way inside his gym, my world turning right side up again when he sets me on my feet on a mat next to the boxing ring.

Leaning close so only the two of us can hear, he murmurs, “Yes. And I’ll do it again if you don’t learn to watch that mouth of yours.”

A blush comes over me at his words, my eyes unable to help themselves from stealing a glance at his lips.

Softening his tone, he whispers, “Later, baby. We need to start your training first.” My stomach flips despite my brain's protest at his nickname for me.

Shoving his shoulder, I scoff at his assumption that we’ll be doing anything “later.” A chuckle escapes him, amused by my frustration with him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he likes it when I get mad at him.

Placing my hands on my hips, I bite out each word. “I don’t need training.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“Seeing as how you didn’t even attempt to fight me off back there, it’s clear that you do.” My teeth clamp down at the truth of his words. It happened again. I froze up before I could recognize what was happening. Though I’m not entirely sure I froze out of fear this time.

“Fine. What do we start with then?” I take the hair tie off my wrist and pull my hair into a high ponytail, a few strands falling in front of my face. I could’ve sworn I saw Alex’s throat bob at the sight.

Alex begins to lead me through a warm-up more intense than I expected. When my muscles have properly woken up, I throw off my sweatshirt, my skin relishing the fresh air. Alex is distracted momentarily when I do, taking in the fact that I’m only left in my sports bra and leggings, before he’s back to business.