Page 24 of Hate Me Like You Mean It
Dominic stumbled back a step, watching with palpable horror as I reached into the sheets, picked up the large, brown cockroach, examined it, then casually popped it into my mouth.
The rich taste of dark chocolate exploded over my tongue, the hard toffee interior breaking with a loud, satisfyingcrunch.Dominic’s eyes flared. The color slowly drained from his face.
I couldn’t tell whether he was going to hurl, have an aneurysm, or pass out. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but chances were good we’d see a bit of all three.
I sucked on the tips of my fingers with a satisfied “mmm, juicy,” then swallowed.
His face started to tint an ashy green.
I smirked. If there was one thing in the world he hated even more than me, it was these disgusting little critters. I’d ripped a page out of his nightmares and forced him to live it.
With a breezy wave of my hand, I gestured toward the tray. The coffee had spilled over, pooling underneath the inediblemulch I’d tossed together. “Thought you’d appreciate having breakfast in bed this morning. Rosie used to do it for us all the time, and we loved it.” Then I let my eyes flick down his body with half-lidded disinterest. “I didn’t think the house was that cold. I’ll lower the AC.”
He snapped out of the trance, looked down, and finally registered his lack of clothing. His jaw worked, and he snatched up the pillow at his feet to hold in front of hisprotuberance.
“What was it?” he asked, voice sharp with annoyance. “Chocolate?”
“Exoskeleton with an extra-juicy protein filling. Want one? They’re a little hard to catch, but that’s what I’m here for.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Glad you still think so. I was starting to wonder, given your choice in my assigned uniform.” I crossed my arms, giving him a condescending once-over. “I didn’t realize you were so desperate to see me wearing your name.”
His lips remained sealed as his tongue swiped over his upper teeth. The swarm of butterflies fluttering in my chest grew tenfold when his liquid gaze slipped down, tracing over the dark blue hoodie that had easily swallowed three-quarters of my body.
His attention lingered on the scrunchedCaptainlabel printed down one rolled-up sleeve before flicking to the small alarm clock perched on his nightstand. He was trying to do the math—figure out how I’d managed to retrieve the hoodie from the locker, wash it enough times to negate the itching effects of the poison ivy, dry it, make breakfast, and break into his room before he’d even had a chance to wake up.
He thought it would be a home run. That I’d take one look at the bouquet andnopethe fuck out of our deal.
That’s the thing about growing up with someone. You become privy to things like each other’s biggest, most irrational fears.
His included an aversion to a select variety of creatures with more than four legs. Mine were primarily focused on thunderstorms and accidentally brushing against a random, innocent-looking leaf that made my skin blister, bleed, and itch relentlessly for weeks.
My neck craned as Dominic shortened the distance between us, his eyes narrowing down at me suspiciously. He smelled like soap, sin, and every bit a fallen angel trying to lure you into temptation.
The pillow he was holding brushed my hip, and my breath hitched when he reached up, grazing the pad of his finger over a small nick in the fabric of my uniform. It was right on the hood, an inch or so above the drawstring.
He held my gaze, his expression morphing from suspicion to confusion to something entirely unreadable. “This is the same hoodie I left for you downstairs?”
I didn’t blink. “What other one would it be?”
His eyes slipped between mine. “Why is it ripped?”
“I may have scrubbed it a little too hard. Wasn’t taking any chances.”
“And why is the color faded?”
“Same answer.”
His tongue darted out to wet his plush lower lip, and an involuntary tremor trickled down my body.
“What did you do with the poison ivy?”
“I buried it.”
His shoulders went stiff. “You buried it? Where?”
With a doe-eyed, innocent look, I said, “Just out in the garden.”
