She stands up straight, her eyes burning into mine. “I said you ruined me.”
I frown. “It was just a kiss…we were just kids.” I shake my head. “We barely knew each other. You were the one who dropped out of high school and decided to get home-schooled. A normal person would have just gone on with their life like it hadn’t happened. Just accepted their first kiss was with one of the hottest kids in school, and that—surprise, surprise—he turned out to be an asshole.”
Her shoulders shake as she laughs, and I frown harder. “You arrogant asshole, this isn’t just about that kiss!” She scowls at me. “It’s about everything. It’s about the things you say, the way you treat people. Your actions have consequences, and your actions ruined me. Your friendship meant so much to me, then you ruined it all, Sam.”
I glare at her, my gaze unwavering as the anger itches to be unleashed. “This is ridiculous!” I yell, startling her again, done with this bullshit. Beautiful or not, she needs to be tamed. I’m fucking done listening to her.
She chews on her bottom lip, her eyes wary. I can see she’s warring with herself—half torn between hatred for me and wanting to cry in frustration, but she’s as cool as a fucking cucumber as she walks toward me, her curves accentuated in that tight-as-fuck dress. I want to rip it off her with my teeth.
She stops in front of me, standing toe to toe. We glare at one another in annoyance and hate, but there’s something else there too, simpering just below the surface. Heat burns between us. It’s like what I felt that night when we were kids. Hell, what I felt all those times when we were kids. There was something between us then, and there’s something between us now. Or at least there could be if either of us let it happen. But we’re both stubborn and broken and unwilling to back down and be the vulnerable one. I don’t believe in soulmates or any of that bullshit, but this electricity between us has been here for so many years, and the closer she comes to me, the brighter the spark is.
“I hate you, Samuel Gunner,” she says in defiance, and I know she means it too. Her chin raises, her eyes burning into mine with a fury that matches my own.
“Good,” I reply angrily, my nostrils flaring. “I’m fucking worthy of your hate.”
She huffs in agreement. “You are.”
I shrug. I honestly don’t give a shit if she hates me. I don’t give a shit if anyone hates me. Right now, she’s a task I need to complete. I don’t care what’s growing between us—what’s been there since we were kids—I need to end it—to swallow that shit way down deep and get what I need to done. Because Patience is just a woman, and there are plenty of those in the world for me to seek out and play happy family with once I have my life on the track I want it to be. And if that means breaking her, then so be it.
“I’m serious. You can hate me all you want, Patience, it won’t change anything. Hate’s a useless emotion, best saved for revenge.”
Her features soften almost imperceptibly. “I won’t forgive you.”
“Okay,” I reply with another shrug. Once I complete my task, she’ll understand what real hate is. She’ll hate me to her very core, and that hate will burn bright for a real long fucking time.
Surprisingly, that doesn’t fill me with any form of satisfaction. In fact, the opposite. Which is strange. I live and breathe on making people feel shit and inadequate about themselves, thrive on it almost.
We remain silent for several minutes, and I reach out almost tentatively to touch her. I only mean to get her attention, but she flinches when my hand comes into contact with the bare skin on her arms. It’s like an electric current runs between us, and every fiber inside me flares to life. The hairs on the back of my arms stand at attention, and I lean into her until both of my hands are on her tiny waist, tugging her toward me.
That feeling is there again. The one that’s called to me since we were kids. I grip her tighter.
She fights me feebly, her head down so she doesn’t have to look at me anymore, but I need to see those eyes of hers. I need to get lost in them. I’m not a gentle man. I’m not soft or sweet or kind. I’m demanding and violent. But when I look in her eyes, I want to be something different.
“We can’t do this,” she whispers.
“Give me one good reason why not.”
She rolls her eyes. “We don’t even know each other.”
I scoff. “We have always known each other, Patience.”
She rolls her eyes at me again, but she’s weakening, her resolve breaking.
“This was always going to happen. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was just a matter of when. Since we were kids, we’ve been heading right here, to this moment.”
I let go of her waist with one hand to lift her face to mine. We’re so close, I can feel her breath on my face. Her sweet vanilla scent is like catnip to me, slowly driving me crazy as we stare into each other’s eyes. I tug her body, dragging her against my chest.
“I hate you,” she says once more.
“I know,” I reply, breathing my words into her hair until she shudders.
“I mean it.”
“I know,” I assure her.
I put my hand on her lower back, my dick flaring to life when she whimpers. I lower my hands to her ass and grip it firmly, keeping her in place so she can’t fight me.
“Look at me,” I growl, but she shakes her head. “Patience, I won’t ask again. Look at me. I want to see your eyes.”
