Page 27 of Hate To Love You

By the time I finish my shower, I’m spent. I haven’t come that hard in months. What is happening to me? I don’t get hung up on women. They get hung up on me.

But knowing Gwen hates me, knowing she would never let herself admit to having any attraction to me, knowing she’s fighting it only makes me want her more.

Christ, this woman is something else, and I don’t know how long I can hold off.

Chapter 17

Guinevere

God, Ryker Steele is an enigma.

I don’t know why he feels the need to antagonize me all the time. Why can’t he understand that I will not allow him to rile me up?

Obviously, Ryker isn’t used to a woman who isn’t falling to his feet. I’m sure none of the Elite are used to woman not following their orders or speaking out of turn.

I may not know much about the Elite, but I know what people say about them around campus. They’re pretty much just spoiled rich kids with control issues.

And Ryker is the worst of them all. But I think he’s slowly learning that I’m not like the other girls on campus. I’m not going to bow, I’m not going to cower, I’m not going to hold my tongue.

No, that’s not someone I’ll ever be.

I can’t tell how Ryker feels when it comes to me. He’s infuriatingly hard to read; I can’t seem to figure him out. One minute he’s cold and calculated, the next he’s looking at me like he wants me to be his next meal. For some reason, that thought makes my skin heat and my face flush.

Imagining Ryker’s face between my legs has become a recurring dream, and I hate it. I hate him. I don’t want to think about the way he would feel against me, how he would taste against my lips, how he could probably make me come without even a single touch.

But it’s getting increasingly difficult when we are forced to work together, and we’re locked in a room in the library at least three days a week. Being near him is making my mind go to places it hasn’t been in a long time, and I can’t stand it.

The last thing I want to do today is work with Ryker. We’ve gotten a lot done with the project, and surprisingly, we’ve agreed on a lot of things which has made the process a little less like pulling teeth.

We only have a week from today to finish, and I think we’ll be done just on time. I think Ryker has been able to see where I’m coming from, and I’ve been able to try and understand his points of view, even though sometimes it really doesn’t make sense.

He’s actually been a bit more tolerable this week after the whole front yard fiasco on Monday. Like he knew I was about to blow up on him.

So, as he sits across the table from me in the basically empty library, I realize this is the first time I’ve looked at him and haven’t wanted to strangle him.

Ryker looks down at his laptop, typing something intently. Every few seconds I find myself peeking over my book stealing glances at him. His eyebrows are pinched together in concentration and his green eyes are narrowed as he stares at the screen.

The dark stubble on his jaw contrasts with his olive skin tone, and his black inky hair is waved on the top and slightly curled at the base. His pale lips are slightly parted, and a small part of me wants to jump over the table and kiss them.

The sweatshirt he’s wearing fits a bit too tight, accentuating his biceps and making me wonder what it would feel like to have them encase me. The logo for the Ellington Dodgers rugby team is spread across the middle.

Ryker’s lips turn up slightly, but he doesn’t look up from his laptop.

“See something you like, Rebel?” Shit. My cheeks flush as I try not to look too bothered by being caught watching him.

My eyes shoot back down to the book in my hands before Ryker glances over his computer to look at me. I can feel his patronizing gaze burning into my face, but I don’t move, I don’t look up.

“No,” I say, trying to sound as confident as I can. Ryker’s head tilts, and I finally look at him, seeing the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

His eyes fall to my lips, causing me to wet them out of instinct. Ryker’s eyes darken and my thighs clench at the way they pierce into mine.

“If you want me, all you have to do is ask, Gwen,” he taunts.

I roll my eyes. “There is no part of me that wants you,” I lie.

Ryker shuts his laptop slowly, pushing it to the side. My body stiffens as he leans his elbows on the table and moves closer to me, but I don’t back away.

The smell of his woodsy cologne hits my nose, and the look in his eyes has me panting internally. Keep it together, Gwen. You hate him, remember?

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