Page 22 of Hate To Love You

A flush of irritation mixed with a spark of awareness rips through my veins at the thought of Ryker Steele speaking about me to his housemates, but I push it away before it overtakes me.

At least he spoke to me. I guess he’s breaking this whole silent streak. The guilt dissipates and it’s replaced by annoyance at the tone of his voice.

I refuse to let this man get under my skin, no matter how annoyingly handsome he is with his tousled dark hair and smoldering green eyes.

Shit, no, don’t think about him like that Guinevere.

Ryker raises an eyebrow, a glint of amusement shining in his eyes.

"I thought you’d give up by now. After all, I am Ellington University's most eligible asshole," he sits up, leaning forward, and I can’t help but notice the way his muscles strain against his thin t-shirt.

I roll my eyes, ignoring the odd flutter in my stomach.

"What do you mean, give up?” I ask. This isn’t something I can just give up on. We need to finish this project, and I am not failing because of him.

Ryker smirks. “Forget it, Rebel. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

For the next hour, we work in a strained silence, both refusing to back down or concede to the other's point of view.

I can feel my frustration grow as Ryker shoots down each of my ideas with that cocky, condescending smile of his, knowing he’s pissing me off. It’s like he enjoys it.

Finally, I’ve had enough. "What is your problem? Do you even care about passing this class?"

Ryker leans back in his chair, a lazy smile on his face. "Of course I do. I just think we need to take a different approach. You're so uptight. Does it hurt?” My eyes narrow into thin slits.

“Does what hurt?” I demand.

“Having that stick up your ass all the time,” I can feel my temper flare. My nerve endings are on fire with how much I hate the man in front of me. I want nothing more than to take my pencil and shove it through his big, veiny hand.

And to think I was actually considering apologizing to this dick.

“Does that hurt?” I question, a smirk playing on my lips. Ryker’s head tilts to the side and he leans closer to me over the table, anticipating what’s going to come out of my mouth next.

“What?”

“The fact that you have to overcompensate for your small dick by being a total ass all the time?” Ryker guffaws and leans his torso even further over the table so he’s right in my face.

I don’t move. I don’t lean back. I stay right where I am, with my eyes locked to his. Something wicked dances in them, and the anticipation in my body is palpable.

“Trust me, Rebel. There is nothing ‘small’ about me. I’d be more than happy to show you if you’d like,” he winks.

My belly fills with a thousand butterflies at the visual of Ryker in front of me with his dick out, stroking it with one hand and staring at me as I play with my clit. Fuck.

“I’ll pass,” I force out. “Let’s get back to the project.”

Ten minutes later and we’re back at each other’s throats. I swear talking to him is like pulling teeth, and somehow, it’s even worse not talking.

He’s making it difficult to even concentrate as his leg bounces a million miles a minute under the table. The incessant clicking of his pen, and the way he’s humming makes me want to throw a rock at him.

“Can you stop that?” I snap, finally having enough. Ryker cocks an eyebrow.

“Stop what?” he asks innocently.

“Everything that you’re doing. Just stop,” I look back down to my notebook where I was writing a few more thoughts on the book.

“Am I annoying you?” Ryker questions. Everything you do annoys me I think.

“Yes,” is all I say. Ryker smirks, his green eyes glistening with mischief.

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