Page 13 of Hate You More

“This is you.” In the Mercedes’s darkened windows, I watch her glance my way. Notice her nervous swallow and the way her eyes briefly shutter.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “You didn’t need to order me a car, and though I appreciate it’s hardly from the goodness of your heart, I am still grateful.”

I open the door and give a jerk of my chin. Get in.

She inhales, then seems to change her mind about speaking, which is when something unfortunate possesses me. The shock on her face as I slide my arms around her shoulders is almost laughable. And maybe I will laugh. Later. When I’m over the feeling of her pressed against me and I can no longer smell the floral scent of her hair.

“It was good to see you,” I say, which feels like a complicated truth and not nearly the end of the things I want to say as something unexpected happens. Something sudden, startling, bewildering, and a dozen more versions of what the fuck as she stands on her toes and presses her lips to mine.

I freeze. But only for a beat because, before I know what I’m doing—before I can engage my fucking brain—I’m kissing her back. Hers was likely meant to be a peck, but mine feels like an inducement as my lips tease and flirt. Her breath is sweet, and her mouth is a warm contrast to the dreary night as she begins to kiss me back.

You’d think it would be strange, kissing her after so long, but it feels as easy as picking up a book you’ve just set down. The sensation is as enjoyable as sinking into a warm bath. Or a hot one, I think, as her tongue makes a tentative pass. I suck it into my mouth, and she gives a tiny whimper, and then we’re suddenly slipping, sliding, relishing the burn.

My hand slips into her coat unbidden, fingers grasping her heavenly ass. Hunger roars through me as I drag her closer, her soft pressed to my hard. I want to say something, remark on the sensation, but that would mean moving my mouth from hers. I make a low noise, keeping her there, my cock pulsing against her as my left hand slides up her rib cage, my thumb finding her nipple over her shirt. She gives a little gasp that I fucking inhale.

I want this—I see it happening before it does. Tumbling into the car, awkward and desperate as I kiss her senseless. Pressing my teeth to her neck to hear her frantic yes. My weight over her, my lips on her neck, and my hot breath in her ear as I spell out my plans. The sweet and the filthy. The promises and threats. I’d kiss and suck and bite. I work my way lower to that little piece of heaven between her legs. We were no strangers to the back seat, but I like to think my skills have leveled up. I could show her a thing or—

What the fuck am I doing? I gave this woman my heart, and she stomped on it.

My hands curled around her shoulders, I set her back. This is wrong. Kissing her wasn’t my intention. Or even my idea. I do not need the trouble that Clara Forbes is seeping under my skin.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I stare at her, those blue eyes a languid midnight now. The night feels fresh, yet, between us, there doesn’t seem to be a breath of air to be had.

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” My voice sounds rough. Like I’ve been running. And maybe I should run quickly away. “But I really hope I don’t see you again.”

Her lashes flutter, and I see the moment she comes back to herself. There’s no satisfaction to be had in knowing she was just as lost in the moment.

Clara nods, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. I turn my brain off to the sight. She takes a step back, stumbling over the curb. I hate myself in that moment. A split second of regret. But I don’t say anything, because I wasn’t expecting to feel like this. Cognitive fucking dissonance right here on the street as she slides into the darkened interior like a lady in no need of a footman.

It’s only natural, I reason as I rub my fist over a sudden twinge in my chest. We have a history. We’ve fucked, I mentally amend. She’s still hot, and it’s been months since I last got laid. These feelings, the need prickling at my fingertips, and elsewhere, it’s all just chemicals. Stop freaking the fuck out.

The cool of the metal roof under my fingers brings me back to my senses. And I tell myself the damp beading on her lashes is not my problem as I press the car door shut.

Chapter 5

Troy

I twist my neck left, then right, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, laptop open on the table behind me. I slept like shit and woke annoyed. It doesn’t matter that the sun is shining, that it’s a beautiful day. The minute I opened my eyes, my first coherent thoughts were the same ones as I had before I turned out the light last night.

What the fuck was she doing in my building?

Why the hell did she kiss me?

And why the fuck did I kiss her back?

Okay, so I kind of have the answer to the last one, and it’s nothing to do with Clara Forbes’s pretty little face. I kissed her back because life doesn’t come with a “Clear History” button. But damn if that means I’m gonna allow her to derail my life again.

I turn from the window and my view over the Hudson, and the smell of sawdust makes me sneeze.

“Ah, shit.” I wipe coffee from my bare chest. Then my shorts. It looks like I’ve pissed myself. “Fuck!” I grate out as I stand on a stray nailhead as I make my way over to the kitchen for a towel.

What the fuck is happening in my life right now? Yesterday, everything was fine—I was on top of the world. I achieved all I set out to do with Table and my life. Success, respect, safeguarding my mother’s future. I have more money than I can spend in one lifetime. And I’ll be keeping it that way, thank you. I’m not going to let Clara’s tomfoolery fuck up my life plan.

I give a shake of my head and take the remains of my coffee over to the open-plan kitchen. Tomfoolery. I guess I’m really old now. My cup hovers over the $10,000 Calacatta Viola marble sink, but I don’t immediately tip out the liquid. Did the contractor say it had already been sealed? Marble is supposed to stain, right?

Fuck it, I think as I dump it, then flick on the faucet to rinse away the potential blemish. I could afford to install a new sink every day of the week without putting a dent in my wealth. Yet I still use my hand to sluice the water spray from the edge as a memory begins to unfold in my head.

“Oh, that’s cold!” Clara’s voice, her deep-blue eyes widening in shock as I lift her to the countertop.