Page 101 of Sweet Hate
“Frumpy.”
“Ugh.”
I crash back onto the bed, my hands fisting my fuzzy soft comforter in frustration. I’m going to clean the freakin’ bakery for God’s sake. Why is what I’m wearing even a thing?
You know why, because today is different.Hewill be different.
Butterflies have been fluttering around my tummy since the second I opened my eyes this morning at the thought of seeing him today.
It’s ridiculous.I’m ridiculous.This guy was my best friend for years. He has solidly seen me puking my guts out in sweatpants with mascara tracks running down my face. In fact, he’s even peeled off an errant eyelash strip that got stuck to my forehead the one time I ever managed to stick them on without jabbing myself in the eye.
Does it get any worsethan that?
Why would you even tempt fate, Haven? Have you learned nothing?
Christ. I need to calm the hell down.
I push off my bed with a renewed purpose and stalk back over to the closet, facing off with it much like a cowboy at dawn, the pile of clothes strewn across the floor clear proof that I’ve lost that shoot-out multiple times already.
A flash of hot pink catches my eye, and I rummage inside to pull it out. It’s my favorite pair of yoga pants, these ones with a mesh panel that runs in a V from the ankle to the side of my knees, with another one that cuts across my thighs.
Half of me doesn’t want to wear these and risk ruining them, but the other half, where the horny little devil Haven sits ruling on her throne…well, that half knows that there is no way these will fail considering his messages last night.
I want to poke that bear so he’ll poke my beaver.
A thrill of excitement courses through me at the thought of what he might do. Although he shouldn’t be doing anything while he’s working at the bakery according to my rules.
Why did I set those again?
Not wanting to waste any more time, I tug them on, thankful my ankle is feeling much better this morning. The bath I took last night to cool off after texting Axel seems to have done the trick, and I’m no longer hobbling around like an eighty-year-old, especially when I’m facing a thirty-minute walk into the center of town to get to the bakery.
I should probably have rented a place closer, but I wasn’t sure how I’d feel coming back. I didn’t want to risk feeling suffocated and constantly under the microscope. Besides, the sea view really sealed the deal for me.
I pull on a tank top and throw my hair into a messy bun, wrapping a patterned bandana around it. A slick of lip gloss and some eyeliner, and I’m done. Eyeing myself up in the mirror, I bite my lip nervously. Do I look like I’m trying toohard? Stupid really, I’m not dressed that differently from yesterday.
OK, the nice underwear under my clothes might be overkill, but you can’t see that.
My mind goes to the pink lacy two-piece set I have on. Tiny little bows sit on the straps and between my breasts. The naughtiest thing about them? If you take a good look at the panties, you realize the lace splits clean through the middle, leaving them crotchless.
I mean, he’s probably not even going to see them. I’m wearing them for myself. Wearing sexy underwear gives me the confidence boost I need today.
No harm in fantasizing though. What would he do if he saw my panties? I bet it would be delicious. His blown-out pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes as he shoves a hand through his hair in frustration like always. Would he tear them off and punish me? Or would he bury his face in there like he promised? God, what would it feel like to ride his face now? His stubble rubbing on me while those big, callused hands hold my thighs tight like he did in the bar.
A dull empty ache hits and arousal floods my core, shit, no. What am I doing? I don’t need that when I’m wearing crotchless panties. My yoga pants are supposed to wick away moisture, but I’m not sure if they’d be able to cope with me continuing down this dirty little road. I need to get my head back in the game and walk my ass to work.
I open my door and step out, only to slam headfirst into a hard chest. Strong hands close around my upper arms to stop me from falling backwards. Glancing up, I find myself lost in the deep-sea pools of Axel’s eyes. He’s standing in my doorway, looking hotter than Hades—a tight black t-shirt stretches across his muscular chest, his soft worn leather jacket covers his broad shoulders, and ripped black jeans and his work boots finish the look perfectly.
“What are you doing here?” I squeak out, my voice rocking the perfect chipmunk impression.Sexy.He quirks a brow at me.Why is that so hot?
“I came to give you a ride to work. I didn’t want you walking on that ankle.”
I’d love a ride, but one to work isn’t what I had in mind.
“You didn’t have to do that. It feels fine today!”
I wiggle it around like a puppet to prove my point like a total idiot.
Hold it together, girl.
