Page 15 of Love to Hate You
“How dare you!” My first impulse is to cover my body with my hands, but I resist the urge and keep them firmly at my sides because I refuse to let him see that he’s made me uncomfortable. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with my bikini. It’s perfectly sized.”
His eyes linger on my breasts.
I need to walk away before I do him bodily harm.
Would anyone notice if I drown him in the pool?
Only the groupies who have been hanging on him all afternoon.
“Maybe you should consider covering up.” He jerks his head toward a bunch of guys in the water who are batting a beach ball back and forth over a net. “They’re all checking you out.”
I glance in their direction with narrowed eyes and give Carter another glower. “The only one checking me out,” I stab a finger into his pec, “is you!”
He snorts. As if he hasn’t wounded my pride enough, he finishes the job with, “You’re the last girl I would check out.”
I gasp. My palm itches to connect with his smug face. If I had anything left in my glass, I’d throw it at him. I suck in a calming breath and slowly release it back out into the world. But I’m still pissed.
“Well, thank you very much for clarifying that for me,” I bite out, turning away with what’s left of my dignity.
If I don’t get away from him, I’m either going to explode all over his dumb ass or burst into tears. And I don’t want to do either of those things. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he has the power to wound me.
It takes every bit of my inner strength to keep my head up as I walk away.
But that’s exactly what I do.
Fuck Carter Prescott.
And his asinine comments.
