Page 26 of Sweet Hate (If You Dare #1)

AXEL

F ancy coffee secured, I park up and swallow the urge to puke as I walk into the bakery.

Are these nerves? Why am I nervous? I’m a grown-ass man for fuck’s sake. I run into burning buildings every day, I shouldn’t be nervous over this.

I’ll just slide in there super chill and just ask, hey, here’s that coffee you used to like. How would you feel about doing last night again? In person? Repeatedly? Until you leave town again?

See, low key. Simple, uncomplicated, no strings. What’s the worst that could happen?

You should never ask that. You’re just begging for trouble.

Steeling myself, I head toward the front of the bakery.

I’m not entirely sure what version of Haven I’ll find today.

Is she gonna be embarrassed or anxious about what we did last night?

God, I hope not. Will she be the sassy smokeshow?

Or will she run and jump into my arms like she did with Lucas and lay a big kiss on me?

I’d prefer the latter, but let’s be honest—I’m not that lucky. Turns out, it’s…none of the above. My eyes almost pop outta my head and I damn near drop our drinks at the sight that greets me.

She’s leaning over one of the booths, washing it down, in black and pink leopard print yoga pants. Jesus fuck, her ass twerks while she sings along to some guy telling people to calm down over and over. The irony of that isn’t lost on me.

Nothing about me feels calm.

Even my dick has feelings—real hard feelings about that perfect peach moving the way it is. He’s pointing straight at her, like he wants to lead the way.

While I don’t make it a habit of thinking with my dick, he might be onto something.

Smirking I decide to throw caution to the wind and take a leaf out of my teenage self’s handbook, I quietly slide the coffee tray onto a nearby table and walk over as lightly as I can. For a six-foot-three dude in biker boots, that’s no easy feat, but luckily her music is playing loud enough.

Standing directly behind her, with a close-up view of her perfect butt, my hands twitch in anticipation.

Shit. Am I really about to do this?

I’m starting to second-guess myself, but at this point, with barely an inch between us, if I don’t follow through, how the hell am I gonna explain the fact that I’m lurking behind her like a weirdo?

This is either going to fail spectacularly or be the best idea I’ve ever had and thaw any ice that might have crept up between us overnight. On her part, that is, clearly there is no chill on my side.

Here goes nothing.

Flexing my hands, I reach out and grip her curvy hips, pulling them the short distance back to mine, dancing to the beat. I get slapped in the chin with the dirty, wet rag as she shrieks and surges upright into my chest .

Slight technical hitch there, but that’s fine. I can roll with the punches.

I wipe my chin and grab the rag, tossing it back on the table, not breaking the rhythm. Returning that hand to her waist, I hold her more securely against me, brushing the velvety skin exposed there, my skin humming from the contact.

Dancing us back from the table and making sure her butt stays pressed to my crotch, I lean down, my lips brushing her ear to sing along about her body putting my heart in lockdown.

A little on the nose with the song choice, Haven.

Her body shakes with silent laughter as she dances with me.

The moves doing nothing to calm the raging hard-on digging into her ass.

If she had any doubts about what she does to me, they’ll be tossed out the window now and I can’t bring myself to care.

I have zero problem with her knowing she lights me up like a damn Christmas tree—Just call me Rockefeller.

We keep dancing until the song comes to an end, too quickly for my liking. Turning in my arms, she looks up at me, her eyes sparkling with laughter and her cheeks flushed almost as pink as her hair.

“You big oaf, you almost gave me a heart attack.” She punctuates that with a slap to my hard abs with her tiny hand. “Ow. Jesus” she mutters as she shakes it. My bad, I might have been flexing.

Chuckling, I pull her hand to my lips to place a soft kiss on her palm. Her breath hitches as her face flushes an even darker shade of pink, virtually hiding her cute freckles.

It’s almost painful how I’ve gone from trying to ignore this girl to being so attuned to her every breath in less than 24 hours. Scratch that, I’ve been in constant pain since the second she walked back into my world.

Since the day she left more like.

“Morning, Sprinks,” I grin at her, fighting every urge to lean down and take her shiny pink lips in a punishing kiss. I think I’ve already pushed my luck enough this morning by dirty dancing with her.

“Hey yourself,” she replies, and I physically see the shift in her eyes as they go from dancing with laughter to shuttered. She pushes softly against my chest, and I reluctantly let her go, instantly feeling the aching loss of her deep in my bones.

Well shit. I was aiming for the fun, ridiculous Axel she used to love, and she liked it, but now seeing her look so unsure has me second guessing myself.

I shove my hands into my pockets to give them something to do before they reach out and grab her, while I try to get a read on why her mood changed.

“So, uh, I thought you might need a coffee after our late-night games,” I nod toward the table where I left our cups.

The look she gives me when she notices her favorite drink waiting for her is priceless. I’d do it every day if it got her to smile this wide.

“Oh my God! You remembered my Frappuccino order? Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t have a car here yet, so I’ve not been able to drive out there to get one and I’ve been having serious withdrawals!

” She rushes over to grab them both and the second her gorgeous lips close around that straw, she moans in appreciation.

Down boy.

It’s official, I’m jealous of a straw. I’ve reached shocking new lows of desperation. That moan has me even more eager to ask her about us, but I still can’t get a read on her.

Walking back over, she hands me my cold brew, my skin sparking where our fingers brush.

Relieved I now have something to keep my mouth busy, I swallow down a huge gulp of it. Damn lucky I like iced coffee too, otherwise my mouth would have been gasping for wildly different reasons .

Well, it manages to stop me from dropping to my knees and begging her to give me a chance.

For now, at least.