Page 153 of Sweet Hate
“But Grams said you were seen around town with a girl after I left.”
“I told her to tell you that. She didn’t want to, but I begged her to. I knew if I didn’t get you to stop texting me, my resolve would crumble. It was already hanging by a thin thread.”
She stays silent and waits, her eyes watering, but she doesn’t break our connection.
“I’m not going to pretend I was a monk. I know I have a reputation for being a notorious playboy. I never cared about that—I stopped caring what anyone else thought about me the second you walked out of my life. I’ve only ever cared about you. I banged women to scratch an itch—mine and theirs. One night only. No sleepovers. No repeats.”
Her cute little nose scrunches up at my words. I know shedoesn’t like hearing this, but if I don’t tell her now, how can we move forward?
“I'm not proud of my behavior, believe me, but I didn’t want to lead anyone on. I didn’t want relationships, marriage, babies, so it was easier this way. But even that stopped more recently. Before you even came to town, I started to feel dirty. Cheap. These women all thought they could touch me or try to claim me. I didn’t want it anymore.” Pausing, I rake in a shallow breath, focusing on the feel of her nails stroking my chest. Grounding me. Telling me this is real, and she’s right here with me.
“Before we fucked that first time on my bike, I hadn’t had sex in eight months. And it had been sporadic at best for quite a while before that too. I’ve never brought anyone home. Never wanted anyone else in my space at all. Until you. Only you.”
I’m sure she’s able to feel how hard my heart is hammering. I’m practically telling her I love her, giving myself over on a damn platter here. If she reads between the lines, she’ll see that.
Screw it. I shuffle backwards to let my hand come up to cup her jaw, my thumb trailing the bottom lip she’s currently nibbling.
“If I’d known you were coming back, I’d have waited for you.”
She lets out a small gasp, her wet, shiny eyes widening.
“Axel, I’d have never expected you to go without sex for so long. You’re an adult. Adults have urges. I get it. I’m the same.”
Hell no, I don’t want to know about anything she did. I already know she was in a relationship. And it’s driving me insane not knowing if he ever got to hear her say the three words I’m dying for her to say to me.
She’s not ready to talk about that yet. That’s fine.
We have time.
For now, I’ll be content to have her with me all night in mybed. I bury my nose in her soft hair, breathing her in and curling her impossibly close to me.
“Let’s sleep now, Sprinks. We can talk more tomorrow.”
I wakeup with my girl still curled in my arms, and feel like I’ve won Willy Wonka's golden ticket.
It wasn’t a dream. She’s really here. I hate that I have to go to work today when all I want to do is stay in the moment with her. I didn’t plan this well at all. With the memories of everything we said and did last night still fresh in my mind I’d love nothing more than to spend the morning right here in bed with my girl, worshiping her over and over, until she can’t come anymore.
I shift around her as slowly as I can, leaving her asleep in my bed while I shower and change.
As I walk out of the bedroom, I accidentally kick her purse, sending its contents flying across my living room floor. When I’m tossing everything back in, a thick, white envelope catches my eye.
Instead of shoving it back in her purse, like I have everything else, something gives me pause.
Flipping it over in my hand, I see the emblem of the hotel she was working for in London embossed on the front.
Ice freezes my veins as I stay crouched on the floor, staring at the envelope in my hand.
I know I shouldn’t open it. I’m invading her privacy. But why would the hotel she left be writing her?
I guess it could be a reference letter, a final paycheck, maybe? But my gut tells me differently. And I trust that shit. It’s what helps me navigate my way out of burning buildings on the regular.
I listen out for any sounds from the bedroom, but it’s silent. I don’t so much as breath as I turn the envelope over and lift the already open flap with a shaky hand.
Congratulations, Haven Blake…
What. The. Fuck?
My lungs still, my body forgetting the simple act of breathing while my eyes hurriedly scan the rest of the page, praying this isn’t what I think it is.
