Page 11 of Sweet Hate (If You Dare #1)

AXEL

Me

Hurricane

OK, thanks. I’ll leave the back door unlocked.

Me

No, that’s not safe. I’ll call you when I’m outside.

Hurricane

I’ve managed to keep myself safe in a big bad city for the last few years just fine.

Back door will be unlocked.

Me

NO.

Hurricane

I don’t know who you think you are, but you don’t get to tell me NO. You better cut that shit out right now. Just do your job, Verona.

Besides, I won’t be there. I have a prior engagement.

Me

Where are you going?

Hurricane

Back door will be unlocked.

T he hell?

What engagement?

I stand there, letting the cold rake over me, hoping it’ll freeze the part of me still stupid enough to want her—my new normal these days.

I’ve been fighting constant visions of her kissing some blank faced dude since her infuriating messages yesterday.

The thought of her touching another man has me in a chokehold.

I have no business feeling this shit.

I close my eyes and tip my head back under the spray while I roughly scrub the shampoo and those visions out of my mind.

She’s everywhere. I even smell like her.

I’ve got no idea how that’s happening. I wish I could dismiss it as the guys screwing with me by switching out my shower gel, but clearly I'm just losing my mind.

What the hell is going on with me?

I hate her. Everything works just fine when I hate her.

So, I shouldn’t want her to be at the bakery. I’m forgetting just how dangerous her presence is.

Maybe I’m a masochist. Especially considering twenty-four hours ago I could barely keep my hands off her.

Yeah, barely, when you let your hand crawl down her body while you held her so tight against you, your dick was ready to blow in your sweats.

I just need to do the job and get out unscathed. I won’t survive anything more.

It’s too easy to be around her when I drop my guard .

Beckett swaggers in towel drying his hair as I’m lacing up my boots.

“Verona, what are you up to later? Wanna grab a beer and watch the game?”

“Sorry, bud, no can do. I’ve got a job today.”

His curious gaze fixes on me. “Oh? Doing what?”

“Just repairing the bakery.” I shrug on my jacket and try to ignore his eyebrows slowly creeping toward his hairline.

“ The bakery? The one we were called to last week? With the gorgeous pink-haired girl whose kept your balls in a twist for more then a decade? That bakery?”

That startles a laugh out of me. “Fuck off, man, my balls are just fine.”

I grab my junk illustrating my point, which has him chuckling and shaking his head.

“Is that wise, bro?” His voice lowers, taking on a serious tone. His doctor tone . I don’t like it.

I meet his concerned gaze, flashing him what I hope is an easy grin, but I’m clearly fooling no one, given his tense expression.

“It’s just a job, dude, don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, then I’m out. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been ‘Leroy Drinks it’. As if I need my place to go up in smoke thanks to his shoddy work.”

“Bro, you’re playing with fire. I saw you after she left the first time. You were messed up. Shit, if I hadn’t taken pity on that mindless zombie, who knows where you’d be now. What are you gonna do when she leaves again? I assume she is leaving?”

My skin itches under his worried gaze. I really need Beckett to back off because it’s hard enough trying to convince myself of this shit without him being the voice of reason.

“Yeah, man, it’s fine. I know she’s leaving.

From what I heard, she’s here to handle the cakes for the Merryweather wedding.

Then I guess she’ll be heading back to London.

” He raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing.

“Don’t worry, dude. I'm not a lovesick teenager anymore. I sure as shit won’t be making the same mistake twice. ”

He sighs heavily. “Fine, it's your funeral. Just be careful, man. I don’t wanna see you get hurt again. Remember, you’re supposed to be putting out fires, not stoking them.”

“Enough about feelings and quit it with the fire puns. Jesus, how are women not falling over laughing at how ridiculous you are?”

“Oh, I’ve got women falling alright—into my bed.” He winks at me with a laugh and turns to his locker.

Cocky bastard.

Using his distraction to my advantage, I grab my backpack and head toward the door.

“Remember what I said, Verona.” Beckett’s warning trails out behind me.

I pull my bike into the parking lot behind my place, anxious energy strumming through me as I impatiently grab my tools, only to find the back door unlocked.

She’s fucking infuriating.

My heart immediately sinks as I walk inside. The place is cold and empty, so I know Haven isn’t here. There was always a certain energy whenever she was around. All these years later, it’s still there. Like the atmosphere when a storm’s about to hit.

I shouldn’t want a storm to hit.

Just do the fucking job, Verona.

Going head down, I work to remove the last of the charred cabinets and clear out the kitchen. Once that’s done, I take five in the parking lot, tossing my sweaty shirt over the Harley’s handlebars.

It’s unseasonably warm for January, but the breeze feels good on my hot skin. Closing my eyes, I lean against my bike, tipping my face up to the winter sun.

For the first time in days, my brain is empty of noise.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea. I love working with my hands, and the routine, physical work the handyman business provides helps me work off excess energy. I focus most of my attention on the firehouse since we hired Billie to work full time. I don’t do it nearly enough these days.

Maybe this is what I need to get my head on straight.

Mentally running through the list of things I need to get done, I suck in a few deep breaths, before heading back inside and scanning the area.

Once I remove the oven and check the wiring, so long as it’s all good, I should be able to get through this relatively quickly. Just as I’m about to start work again, I hear the chime from the bakery door opening followed by “Fuck, shit, bollocks” as Haven drops something on the floor.

I can’t stop the grin that creeps across my face. I toss my good judgement in the trash not giving a fuck about anything other than laying eyes on my girl.

After all, I could at least try and be a gentleman. And he would make sure her clumsy ass hadn’t fallen over, right?

As soon as I walk through the connecting door, I inwardly curse my stupidity.

She’s crouched on the floor, her delicious round ass wrapped in skintight low-rise jeans, exposing the thinnest scrap of lace running between her butt cheeks.

I clench my fists, my mouth watering from the urgent need to rip that naughty thong off with my teeth.

Holy shit. Abort mission.

I back away slowly, hoping to creep back into the kitchen without her noticing, but of course I hit a chair, and it drags across the floor.

Motherfucker.

She turns around, startled, her face falling when she sees me. I hate that.

“Oh, it's you,” she huffs out in a monotone voice.

Well, shit. I really, really hate that.

“Who else were you expecting exactly? I quirk a brow and grin while I lean against the doorframe, trying to look super chill. Relaxed. And not like my cock’s pulsing trying to punch its way through my jeans to get to her sexy ass in that thong.

She shoots me a glare over the rim of her glasses.

“You OK? You appear to be causing destruction again.”

Her eyes widen and drop to my bare chest.

Shit, my bad. I forgot to put my shirt back on.

“Like what you see?” I can’t help but tease her, my grin widening. Apparently, all sense flew out the window today.

She snort laughs in that cute Haven way when I surprise her, and her cheeks flush my favorite shade of pink. I love that sound. I used to make it my mission to draw it out of her any chance I got.

“You got a medical condition that stops you from wearing shirts Verona?” She smirks devilishly up at me, her gaze dropping back down my chest. “I guess the view is marginally better than when old man Leroy was here.”

“Marginally, huh? Haven, you wound me.” I rub my chest as I crouch down beside her, helping to collect the paperwork scattered all over the floor.

“I don’t need to be dealing with an overinflated ego as well as your delightful sunshine personality, thank you very much.”

“It’s not ego if it's true.” Winking, I nudge her with my shoulder, only I do it a bit too hard and send us both tumbling to the floor.

I fall on top of her, catching myself on my forearms to stop from crushing her gorgeous curves.

Abort, abort, abort.

Being in this position has my senses misfiring in every direction. Sucking in a breath is another mistake when her scent overwhelms me completely. Closing my eyes I fight my natural instincts to grind my aching cock into her.

Ragged breaths escape from her full lips.

Her luscious round breasts heave under her tank top, her hard nipples brushing my bare chest on each exhale.

God, what I wouldn’t give to taste one. Slide that little hard nub between my teeth and bite down.

I stifle a groan, my mouth watering in anticipation.

As soon as I open my eyes, her wide aqua ones immediately meet mine, drawing me closer.

So close I notice the tiny freckles dusting her nose. Freckles I loved to kiss before I took her plump, rosy lips with mine.

I drop my gaze to her shiny lips and need slams into me with the force of a Mack truck. The way she’s chewing that delicate flesh—my fucking kryptonite.

I can’t help myself.

I balance my weight on one arm and use my thumb to tug her lip free. Reveling in its softness, I stroke over the indent left from her teeth.

Her eyes search mine as I trail my hand down her pretty flushed cheek to tangle in her hair, a satisfied rumble tearing from my chest.

The air becomes combustible, the whole world falling away. Right now, it’s just me and her.

The tip of her tongue darts out to wet her dangerously distracting lips, and my blood pumps wildly in my veins.

Sinking into her, those phenomenal tits pressing against my chest, I hover just an inch from those enticing lips. I fight my instinct to rut into her like a wild animal, my cock hard enough to cut diamonds.

I brush my lips against hers in a barely there kiss, my head spinning from the contact. Without thinking, I rub my cock against her pussy, needing friction to ease the ache.

She gasps, and the sound pops our bubble. Sirens blare in my head again while neon warning signs flash in front of my eyes.

No. Fuck no. What am I doing?

I hurl myself off her and blindly gather her paperwork in silence. I can’t bring myself to look at her. Swallowing a groan, I ignore the sharp pain in my traitorous hard dick. I deserve the pain. It serves as a physical reminder that I need to stay far away from this woman.

Am I really this stupid? I drowned myself in booze for months when she left the first time. I couldn’t seem to cope with the simple act of breathing, let alone navigate the other shit I was going through without her by my side.

I can’t be around her.

Staying silent I grab her file and shove the papers inside before thrusting it into her hands. Our eyes meet for the briefest second before I drop my gaze and jump up, stalking back into the kitchen and slamming the door behind me.

She let me kiss her. Why didn’t she try to push me away? Did she want me to?

Now I just need to try and forget the look of angry confusion on her face. Is she annoyed that I kissed her, or that I ran off like a little bitch? I hope it’s the latter, but I’m not being fair to her. I know I’m not.

Day one on the job, and I practically maul her on the floor.

Forget playing with fire. Apparently, I prefer launching myself straight into the fucking flame.

What have I done?