Page 37 of Hate It with You

“Then prove it.” His voice is laced with a desperation that does nothing to calm the hunger growing inside me. He places a hand on my cheek, those blue eyes connecting with my own as he says, “Kiss me, then tell me you hate me, and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

I pause, contemplating his offer. I don’t date men. I rarely sleep with men. I certainly don’t like kissing men.

However, if I’m being honest with myself, since meeting this man, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what my lips would feel like on his.

You can kiss a man and still hate him, right?

There’s only one way to find out.

Placing my hand on the back of his neck, I lift onto my toes and pull his lips to mine. His hands slip around my waist as he tugs me forward. The force of his pull throws me off balance, causing my other hand to grab onto his shoulder, his grip on my waist only tightening when I do. When his tongue darts out to tease my lips, I pull back, breaking our connection.

“I—” I stammer over my words.

“Say it,” he says in a low, guttural voice, his eyes dilated as he continues to stare at my lips, which are only inches away from his.

In my experience, men hurt more than they heal. They bring pain, their grip always punishing and never gentle. But when I look at Alex, I can’t help but wonder if my generalized view of men is wrong. Sure, he can easily overpower me, but he never once cut off my air supply.

My mind whirls, at war with itself over the man who stands before me, and I can’t bring myself to say the words. They just aren’t true.

So, against my better judgment, I pull him into me, sealing my lips to his. Consequences be damned.

I hate how effortlessly right it feels.

16

BETH

Our tongues collide as though they’ve danced together for years, my body easily giving in when his tongue teases my lips. The rain only adds to the electric sensation as our mouths are slick, sliding against each other, both of us fighting to deepen the kiss.

Alex’s hands slide down from my hips to my ass. He squeezes like I’m going to run from him at any moment, but my body does the opposite as it melts into his touch.

The small moan that escapes my throat only ignites him further as he kisses me vigorously.

Rain cools my lips when he pulls back, only to place them on my neck, nipping, biting, and kissing the sensitive skin there. I’m lost in him, blindly following as he moves us, guiding me toward the front door of my bookshop with punishing hands on my hips.

My back on the side of the building next to the door, I barely notice when Alex slides a hand smoothly into my jacket pocket, removing my keys. My hands finding purchase on his chest over the fabric of his shirt. After a few moments, when he still hasn’t gotten the door open, my impatience grows.

“Would you open the fucking door already?” I ask, breathlessly.

A swift slap to my ass sends a shiver down my spine, and he says, “What’d I say about that mouth of yours?” Then, to my relief, the front door swings open and he drags me inside, kicking the door closed behind us. He makes quick work of locking the deadbolt without missing a beat when kissing me.

Since I had closed up shop for the day, the blinds have already been drawn, only a small amount of light seeping in from the parking lot, lighting our way around the books.

Overcome with a heat coursing through my body at the result of my racing heart, I slam Alex against the front window, coming to terms with the one thing I’ll never admit to him. I want him. We waste no time tearing off each other’s jackets in an effort to explore each other’s bodies.

Pulling him in for another kiss, I let my hands roam his rigid muscles as they skate beneath his shirt, butterflies swarming my stomach at the feeling of our skin touching. He does the same, pushing my shirt up further to grab onto my sides with no barriers to our connection.

He touches me as though he’s burning his name into my skin.

Alex begins to push me, the hands on my hips gripping harder as he fights me for control. I thrust my hips in an effort to keep him pinned to the window, but when his fingers dig in deep at my sides, the wave of pleasure it sends to my core has my knees buckling. Our kiss breaks when Alex smiles, indicating silently that he knows he’s won.

He turns us, pinning me against the bookshelf next to the window, an arm resting against one of the shelves. Towering over me, he rests his forehead against mine as he skates his other hand across my stomach below the hem of my T-shirt.

“Say my name”—his voice comes out low, breathless—“like you did the other day.”

“Alex…” I breathe out the warning. I knew he fucking heard me.

He nudges his nose against mine, his arm wrapping around my bare waist, my shirt bunched higher beneath my breasts.