Page 70 of Meet Hate Love
“Hey, TammiLuvsToTravel. Oh, it’s been…” I fought the smartass smile that wanted to creep over my face. “Awful.” Then I glanced back to the bed at Blake.
She had her phone in her face, completely ignoring me while most likely reading some smutty romance novel that was going to pay off tenfold for me in half an hour.
“Truly torturous,” I said. “One out of ten. Do not recommend.”
“They really need an option for zero stars,” Blake mumbled in the background.
At the very least, if Amanda watched the live feed, she may have believed we still hated each other and hadn’t been fucking on the company’s dime.
BingBangBong: I bought a couple’s package for the Maldives six months ago. Caught my boyfriend cheating on me last month and broke it off, but the resort won’t refund us. Any advice on how to survive?”
“Well, your ex is a dick if he cheated on you and—”
“I’ll tell you what you do, BingBangBong.” Blake had evidently been watching the live feed. Not reading. “You take that sack of shit with you, crush up three doses of ex-lax, and lace his dinner with it right before you go scuba diving. Then you videotape him shitting in the Indian Ocean, post it to social media. Tag the girl he’s currently with, his boss, and his mother, and then you go find a hot-bodied cabana boy and have a grand old time.”
“Also—” I gave a curt nod—“you could do that.”
I answered a few more questions, mostly about whether the pasta was better in Italy than Olive Garden, which, yes, it was. I wasn’t sure why anyone would assume it wasn’t. Then I signed off.
“Truly torturous?” Blake asked when I chucked my phone to the dresser.
“Horrendous.” I crawled onto the bed beside her. “Insufferable.” I slid my hands over her smooth, bare legs as I leaned toward her perfect-to-me face and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “A gauntlet of excruciating and harrowing ordeals.”
She moaned when I whispered that against her lips.“Now, that’s how you talk dirty to me.” Her hands slipped beneath my shirt, gliding over my stomach.
“Do you like my circumlocution?”
Her nails raked from my sides to my back. “So much.” She nipped at my lip. “Go faster.”
“Cacophony. Sesquipedalian. Fortuitous.”
“Faster.” She faked a moan, her head sinking deeper into the pillow. “Say it faster.”
“Nefarious, assiduous, perfunctory, honorificabilitudinitatibus.”
She paused the kiss. “What?”
“Oh, did I find a word you don’t know?”
“You did.”
Another kiss. “That should earn me something.”
Her hands swept down my back, her leg hooked around my waist. “Did you learn those just for me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I like you.”
Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips together. “I like you, too.” Then she opened her eyes. “A lot.”
My phone rang in the background while my heart pounded in my chest. The words, “I think I love you,” were right on the tip of my tongue, but instead, I went with, “Me too.” And then I kissed her, slow and reverent, hoping my lips would tell her what I was too chicken shit to say.
My phone rang again. Then again.
Blake had just tugged my shirt over my head when another call came through. As much as I wanted to ignore it, I couldn’t. Groaning, I shoved away from her. “One second, let me just make sure it’s not my grandma.”
