Page 180 of Hate Mates

His hair tickles me as he nods. Stubble scratches my cheek as his lips move to mine. His finger drops from my breast and sinks down my stomach and into my shorts, massaging me there as his tongue slips into my mouth. I kiss him desperately, breaking off once more to whisper, “Just don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A finger slides inside me. I tense a little, but his lips are back on mine, and his eyes open to check in on me. It all relaxes me into him, into the way he moves his hand, and it starts to feel different…like it’s meant to.

Attempting to meet his thrusts, I buck my hips, using his shoulders to assist me. A wave of pleasure takes over, and I tighten around him, panting out his name as our lips break apart.

His eyes find mine, his fingers still moving in me as I come down. “More?” he asks.

I nod because, for those seconds just now, I couldn’t remember my name or why I was so desperate to forget it, but I remembered his.

“Okay.”

Freezing fingers brush away my tears, and I don’t mean to, but I find myself leaning into his touch. My trembling from the cold and rising emotions intensify when he doesn’t pull away. “I was thinking of us. Of our boring fumble.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“It was everything to me in that moment.”

“You don’t need to confuse us by saying that kinda thing.”

“But you deserve the truth.” I pause. “You can ask me one question. I’ll answer honestly.”Because you deserve to know everything for letting me talk about that night when I’ve never been able to.

But especially for the time you served when you never should have had to.

“Okay.”

Something keeps us together, either the cold or his icy fingers locking over mine as my hand seals around his.

“I already asked it once.”

I nod, prepping myself for how I’ll tell him why I sent him to prison.

But he catches me off guard with his question. “How did you get the bruise on your face?”

“That’s your question?”

“Yeah.”

The windows are hard to see through, between the thick snow and the condensation from our breath, but I still try, as I’m unable to look at Lochlan as I tell him what happened.

“My dad has anger issues, and since my mom died, he takes them out on me. You know what he’s like.”

“I knew he hated my father because he couldn’t save your mom, but I didn’t know he was abusive to his daughter.”

“Yeah.” My gaze wanders back to Lochlan, who looks like a younger version of his father. Mr. Drake’s image in his paramedic uniform fills my head. Blinking quickly, I narrowly escape the image of my mother on the bathroom floor. “I know your dad tried. I also know the reason my mom took the pills was because she couldn’t take anymore from my dad. He loved her so much more after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” I don’t know where these words come from. They just crawl up my throat and slip out. “For everything. My dad got in my head, and honestly, I’m terrified of him. His anger problem makes him dangerous. I probably don’t need to explain it to you. You saw how he was with your dad enough times.”

“He never gave my dad bruises.”

“No. He saves them for me.” Braving the cold, I stick my arm out and roll up my sleeve, revealing another purple and yellow splotch on my skin. “I have a lot of them. And his vendetta with your father is why you went to prison.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told my dad what happened that night and that you came into the house to help me. But all he heard was you were in the house. He wouldn’t let me say different, no matter how hard I tried. I was eighteen, and by that time, I was already terrified of him. And then they arrested you, and DNA proved that we’d been together. I wanted to tell the nurse that someone else had assaulted me and that what happened between us was consensual. But I knew how my father would react, and I was already fragile. So, I was selfish and put myself before you, and I shouldn’t have because you’d put yourself at risk for me. I’m so sorry.”

So, so sorry.

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