Page 15 of Don’t Hate Me (Secrets of Ravens Hollow #2)

My meds have kicked in, and I’m grateful that he’s allowing me to take them again, but I still feel strange, not at all like my normal self.

I suck in a deep breath and push the warm air out through my clenched teeth.

As I look out over the ocean. It seems to stretch on forever in a way that makes me feel out of control.

Orlando and I have been out here on the pool deck since he decided it was a nice enough day to eat our breakfast out here this morning.

When we were done with our muesli, yogurt, and berries, he pulled out his laptop and started his work for the day.

The sun is shining down on us, warming my skin, and the water looks so crystal clear I can see right to the bottom of it.

It’s beautiful, so tranquil, but also makes me feel trapped.

I miss the chaos of the club. The constant lineup of questions from staff and never-ending jobs that need to be done.

I miss being in charge. I wasn’t built to sit around in a fancy dress and look pretty on someone’s fancy pool deck while he works beside me.

It’s just not me. I’m the boss. I sigh again, leaning back in the reclining chair and allowing my eyes to shut.

With nothing else to do, I guess I will just sleep the day away.

“What’s wrong, Sloane?” Orlando grumbles, and I feel his eyes on me.

I pop my eyes open and glance his way. “What am I supposed to do all day long? I’m used to being busy. Sitting around staring at the ocean is relaxing, but I’m going to lose my mind if I just keep resting with my foot up.”

He cocks a brow. “Dr. Harrison said you have to rest.”

I roll my eyes, feeling the frustration bubble up through me. “I’ve had enough rest, Orlando, I rested yesterday. You get to work, why can’t I?”

“I have to work,” he complains.

“So do I, my club is probably falling apart without me. You could at least give me a notepad and pen where I can write some of my ideas down to send off via carrier pigeon to Romeo.” I meet his gaze, a stark silence hanging between us, my flat, humorless tone betraying my attempt at a joke.

“What would you do if someone stopped you from working?”

He considers me, his lips forming a thin line. Then he places his laptop on a side table and stands, holding his hand out for me to take.

Reluctantly I accept it, standing with him. He wraps an arm around my waist snugly, and I move back through the house with him in the direction of the room I spent the first night here in.

“Do you read?” he asks.

“I don’t have time to read. I work a fifteen-hour day most days,” I mutter back, exasperated with him.

“Well, now you have time.” He shoves open a door at the bottom of the stairs to reveal a library of sorts. Row after row of books line the shelves, their spines a kaleidoscope of colors and titles.

“Oh wow!” I say, a flutter of excitement running through me. I step out of his grip on me and hobble further into the room so I can check it out. “This place is amazing. And just for you?” I glance back at him.

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, even though we both know it is. This place would be worth a small fortune, and for him to have invested in it, he’s a reader. I guess what else do you do on the long, lonely nights at this place alone. “You can learn a lot from a book.”

I tail my finger along the spines of some beautiful looking history books. “I’m sure you can. Have you read all of them?”

“Not yet,” he says like he’s still planning on it. I wouldn’t have picked him as an avid reader. Every day he surprises me with something new about his personality. “Why don’t you find something to read by the pool this morning.”

Just like a real library, there appears to be a row for everything—mysteries, thrillers, and even romance, and then there is the non-fiction, everything from self-help to the history of war.

I pull out one of the romance books with a blond long-haired dude whose muscles look like they’re painted on.

“You read Mills and Boon?” I can’t help but laugh.

He grins as he shakes his head. “I thought you might.”

I consider him. “Straight-up romance is probably not my style.” I keep searching for something that will take my fancy.

“I have a reverse-harem section if that’s more your style?” When I look back at him, his brow is cocked cheekily.

My lips tighten into a thin line. “I don’t like how much you know about me. It’s disturbing. We should be getting to know each other the normal way.”

“What’s the normal way?” He looks genuinely confused, and that makes me feel sorry for him. Has he really had such little experience with women that he thinks stalking them and watching their every move is a normal way to get to know them?

I return my attention to the books. “Ask questions and get answers. Go on dates and have conversations over time, that reveal glimpses of who you really are. You must have dated when you were younger.” As soon as I say it, I regret it.

“I mean, you got to know women before you locked yourself up here. Right?” I feel like I’m explaining relationships to a five-year-old, but in some ways, he seems so naive about how to be a normal human.

Maybe that’s what happens when you live alone for so long.

“I dated plenty of women when I was younger, Sloane.” He looks wounded, but he’s the one acting like he has no idea.

With a shrug, I turn away from him again and keep searching for a book. I find a whole section on Greek mythical romance. I pick one up, inspecting the cover. It’s purple with vines twisting through the title.

He leans into the shelf beside me, and I can feel his eyes burning into me. “Why did you pick up that book?”

“Greek mythology fascinates me.”

“See, that’s something I didn’t know about you already.” He smiles, proud of himself.

“Good work, you asked a question.” I shake my head, hoping he got the sarcasm in my voice. “You know everything else from spying on me.” I take a second book, this one on Hades and Persephone. It’s a modern retelling and I think exactly what I feel like reading.

“Should I grab one of the reverse harems just for research purposes? I’m sure you’re fascinated,” he asks, his voice way too light and playful for my liking. Why is he having so much fun with this?

“I’m not,” I snap back a little too quickly, my voice going way too high, giving me away.

“We both know you are.” He crowds me, one arm to the shelf behind me, the other placing a book on top of the pile I’m collecting in my hands. There are three dudes on the cover and one chick.

I sigh heavily, raising a brow at him as if I’m annoyed.

But fuck, of course I’m fascinated. While I was stuck with Reef, Romeo, and Onyx, it was a constant thought that crossed my mind.

How would it work if I was with all of them at once?

Would I like all the attention or feel overwhelmed by it?

Would it hurt like hell to take two of their huge cocks at once or would it be the best night of my life?

A pleasure so great I could never match it.

A flutter of excitement runs through me at the thought.

But I’m not letting Orlando in on that little part of me.

“Maybe it’s you who wants to try a little orgy-type situation.

Being here all alone for so long, the idea of sharing sounds like way too much fun,” I taunt him.

His hand trails up my arm softly, his eyes locking with mine as his hand cups my cheek and his finger brushes over my bottom lip. “It’s not about what I want.” His words are almost a whisper.

I swallow hard. The way he’s looking at me with way too much desire warms my insides and sends a thrill right through me at the same time.

His eyes drop to my mouth, and he absentmindedly moistens his lips.

For a second I think he’s going to kiss me, and I want him to.

But then he takes a step back from me and moves to the next aisle of books.

Leaving my heart fluttering like crazy. I brush over my lip when his finger was, feeling like I’ve been burned.

His touch on me is so electric, the idea of us together burning into my soul. Why am I so fascinated by him?

Every time he gets close to me, he makes me desire more, then he backs away, leaving me feeling empty in the strangest way.

I know the thoughts I’m having about him are inappropriate.

I shouldn’t want him in the way I do. But he touches me, and I melt for him, like this is meant to be.

Am I losing my mind because I’m locked up with him?

I must be. This is a psychological condition, that’s the only explanation.

Shaking my head, trying to shift the sexual tension that’s coursing through me, I move down the end of the aisle and look for him in the next row. He has a book out skimming over the pages. “Why do you do that?”

He looks up at me. “Do what?”

I consider what I’m going to say, knowing I could be getting myself into dangerous territory with this man I really don’t know all that well. “Touch me like you want me, then pull away like you don’t.”

“I shouldn’t touch you.” His voice holds a dangerous edge to it, almost a warning.

“Why?” I ask anyway, my voice all breathy.

He takes a tentative step closer, his eyes searching mine, for what I don’t know, but it makes my stomach knot up. “Because if I do, there will come a day when I won’t be able to stop myself.”

I blink back at him, wishing I could read his mind. He’s so confusing. “You’re scared of what you will do to me?”

“No.” He takes another careful step closer.

I back up until I hit the wall of books. My heart races like crazy as I stare up into his dark eyes. He’s so damn beautiful, all mysterious and dangerous, but sweet as well. “You’re scared I will reject you?”

A chuckle, light and carefree, escapes his lips. “I know you want me, treasure, I can smell your arousal when we’re this close.”

Oh, fuck, is he for real? My pulse races a little faster, and I wouldn’t admit it to him but a fresh wave of arousal coats my panties at his dirty words. They can’t be true, he’s just saying them to get a rise out of me, but he’s not wrong.

His hand reaches out and delicately dusts down the side of my face.

I shiver, goosebumps erupting over my skin even though it’s warm in this room, and I feel like my face is on fire. I fucking shiver for him. Oh, dear God, what the hell is wrong with me?

Pleased, his lips twist at the sides, and his eyes dance with delight at my reaction.

“You’re so easy to read, treasure. Look at the way your pupils dilate and your cheeks color when my hands are hardly on you.

” He takes my hand in his and tugs me closer to him so we’re chest to chest, so close I can feel the way his heart thumps. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he hisses.

I blink up at him, getting lost in his dark and dangerous eyes, my body lighting up with desperate need to have him touch me everywhere.

Moisture pools in my panties, and I know if he felt me, he would know how right he was.

There is no hiding it, my needy little body is frantic for him.

“I want you,” I whisper, expecting him to claim me right here in his library. Devour me the way I know he wants to.

Instead, he drops his head to the crook of my neck and inhales deeply. His hands slide down the curves of my body, and I moan, wanting more. His hand tangles into my hair, holding me so damn close I’m panting. “Orlando.” I say his name as a plea.

Then he straightens his shoulders, sucking in a deep breath, and he seems to regain his composure.

His hand falls away from my hair, leaving me staring back at him wondering what the hell just happened.

He drops his gaze and turns away from me, striding toward the door.

“Close the door when you’re done,” he throws over his shoulder as he exits the room.

I glance down at the stack of books in my trembling hands, my heart still thumping loudly in my chest. What the fuck was that?

With a heavy sigh, I take my stack of books and move out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.

Looks like the only action I’m getting is going to be between these pages.

It’s for the best. I know it is. But it doesn’t mean the rejection doesn’t sting a little.

I should be running from him, rejecting him.

But instead, I’m gazing into his eyes, having thoughts of him throwing me over any hard object and fucking my brains out.

I know I shouldn’t. But there is something about him that has me tied up in knots and desperate for any sort of relief.