Page 36 of Hate To Love You

I grab both sides of her face, forcing her to look at me. I search her expression, trying to make out what emotions she’s feeling right now, but I can’t make it out.

“Gwen, is today your birthday…?” I ask hesitantly. She nods slowly.

Oh, for Christ’s sake. It’s her fucking birthday? Why the hell wouldn’t she tell me? We spent half the day together working on that stupid fucking project and she never even mentioned it.

“Shit, Gwen. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just another day,” she shrugs, completely defeated. I want to be mad at her for keeping this from me. I want to yell at her for being so stubborn, but she doesn’t need that right now.

“Your dad is an asshole. Trust me, I know a thing or two about asshole dads.” Gwen looks like she wants to question what I mean, but I appreciate that she doesn’t ask. I don’t want to explain my fucked-up relationship with my father right now.

“I’m guessing you and your dad don’t get along much, huh?” I ask, hoping she’ll share a little more of her life with me.

Gwen shakes her head. “Not really. Him and my mom got divorced when I was nineteen, and he moved to California. He’s an actor, so he doesn’t have much time to talk to me.”

That’s bullshit. Everyone can make time to talk to someone they love. She’s making excuses for him, and from the sound of it, he doesn’t deserve that.

“We haven’t really spoken in a while, and when he called out of the blue tonight, I really thought he was calling to wish me a happy birthday,” she chuckles. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Stop that.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow in question. “Stop what?”

I turn so that my body is fully facing hers. Our knees touch, and my cock grows, the stupid bastard.

“Putting yourself down. You aren’t an idiot, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Your dad is the idiot. You deserve so much better than that,” I sound like a sappy chick flick. God, how the mighty have fallen.

Gwen reaches for my hand and squeezes, sending a spark of need down to my groin. I keep my eyes on hers as she licks her lips. I want to bite that lip. I want to know what it would feel like around my-

“Will you come in with me?” My eyes widen before they narrow in question. Did she just ask me to come inside her house with her? She must still be drunk. There’s no way sober Gwen would invite me in.

She stands and walks toward the door. I stand and watch as she opens the front door, then turns around to meet my gaze which had landed on her perfect ass.

“You coming?” I am so going to regret this. Against my better judgement, against everything I thought I knew of myself, I follow her inside, shutting the door behind us.

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Gwen’s bedroom looks exactly like what I thought it would. Floral décor, pictures of her with an older woman who must be her mother, a light purple bed spread, a small desk under the window, and a full-length mirror in the corner.

I sit on the edge of Gwen’s bed as the water runs in the ensuite bathroom. I don’t know why she wanted me to come in. But her thoughts seem to be a bit scattered at the moment with the amount of liquor she drank tonight and the emotions running through her head.

She steps out of the bathroom in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, her hair up in a bun on the top of her head, and her makeup completely washed off. Holy shit, she’s perfect.

Climbing onto the bed, the shirt rides up an inch revealing the light blue thong she’s wearing and if I thought I was hard before, it’s unbearable now.

Gwen pulls the covers up over her and relaxes into the bed. I watch as she closes her eyes, and it’s taking everything in me not to crawl on top of her and smash my lips to hers.

“Stay until I fall asleep?” she asks softly. Jesus. I run my hands down my jean covered thighs and clear my throat.

“Okay.”

Several minutes later, Gwen’s breathing slowed, and her face softened. She looks so peaceful; so unafraid, so fucking sexy.

Happy birthday, my little Rebel.

Chapter 22

Guinevere

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