Page 305 of Hate Mates

“Get in,” I said simply, voice low and firm, not giving her a chance to argue.

She hesitated for a split second before she finally climbed into the car. I slid in after her, the air between us crackling with something unspoken. The drive was silent except for the hum of the engine and the weight of everything between us—her anger, my need, the tension I couldn’t seem to shake.

By the time we arrived at my apartment, I could tell she was still pissed, but there was something else—something simmering beneath the surface. The way she refused to look at me, the way her body was so tense, it told me she was just as affected as I was, but neither of us was willing to admit it.

I led her inside, the door closing behind us softly. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating in its intensity.

Without a word, I pulled her toward me; this time, she didn’t resist. I brushed a strand of hair from her face, her breath catching in her throat as our eyes met, the space between us shrinking with each passing second.

“Do you want to keep fighting me?” I asked, my voice hushed, my lips barely an inch from hers.I pushed the jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. She shivered, but not because of the temperature; my apartment was warm enough.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled me closer, her lips meeting mine with a desperation I hadn’t expected. It was frantic, heated—raw. She tasted, and I responded in kind, my hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her flush against me.

It was too much, too fast, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

And when she kissed me again, more slowly this time, the world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of us—unspoken words, unacknowledged desires, and the weight of everything that had built up between us.

“I don’t know how to stop fighting,” she said breathlessly.

“Then don’t.” I kissed her neck, and she trembled slightly. “Tell me to stop, and I will, Isabella. But give me a goodfucking reason to.” My voice was low. I couldn't hide my hunger anymore. I pulled back just enough to see her face, the way her eyes flickered with that same mix of confusion and something darker—something that mirrored the storm brewing in my chest.

Her breath came in shallow bursts, her lips parted, and neither of us spoke for a moment. Her hands rested lightly on my chest, fingers twitching like she might push me away, but something in her eyes said otherwise.

I waited, every inch of me coiled and waiting for her answer. I didn’t know why, but I needed to hear her say it. Needed to hear her tell me that this was a mistake—that she was better off walking away, getting out of this tangled mess we’d found ourselves in. I needed to hear her words, but the silence stretched on, thick with the weight of unspoken truths.

“Dominic…” she breathed. Her voice was hushed but edged with a question.

I could see it in her eyes—the struggle, the internal battle. The attraction, the pull, and everything else have been building between us since we met. It was all there, laid bare between us, just inches from shattering completely.

But I knew there was hesitation, and it made sense. Her fear was warranted. And part of me—the same part that told me to take her, to pull her deeper into this—wanted to soothe it, to make her feel something other than this.

“I’m not going to force you,” I said quietly, my hand brushing the side of her face. God, she was perfect. I knew the delicate line between what we were on the edge of and what would ruin everything, but she was everything I wanted. “But I need you to know, Isabella... this thing between us, I am all in - consequences be damned.”

Her eyes flickered with something sharp and vulnerable at once, each breath quick, the sound of it cutting through the thickair like a knife through silk. Her lips, swollen and trembling, parted ever so slightly as her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of a caged animal, her nipples hardening against the thin fabric of her dress, begging for attention. She was a fucking wreck, and it was beautiful.

“It’s dangerous,” she whispered, her voice a fucking siren song laced with fear and desire. Her eyes—those goddamn eyes—flickered closed for a heartbeat, then fluttered open, a storm of lust and uncertainty churning in their depths. She was teetering on the edge, and she fucking knew it.

“Maybe it is,” I growled, my voice low and dripping with raw hunger. My cock was already throbbing, straining against the confines of my pants. I stepped closer, my body inches from hers, the heat between us enough to set the room ablaze. “But some things are worth the danger. You’re worth it.”

And just like that, the tension snapped. The air crackled with electricity, and there was no turning back. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Her body spoke volumes, every inch of her quivering with the kind of need that could bring a man to his knees.

I pulled her against me with a force that left no room for hesitation. Her body melted into mine, her soft curves molding to my hard lines like we were fucking made for each other. Her hands found my shoulders, fingers splaying against the fabric of my shirt, her nails digging in as if she was afraid, I’d vanish if she let go.

“Fuck,” I hissed, my mouth crashing down on hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was savage, primal, a fucking battle for dominance that neither of us was willing to lose. Her lips were sweet fucking sin, and I couldn’t get enough. My tongue plunged into her mouth, exploring every inch, claiming her in the most carnal way possible.

She moaned into me, the sound vibrating straight into my goddamn soul. Her hands moved up to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer and urging me on. My other hand slid down to grip her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. She gasped against my lips, her hips grinding against mine, the friction sending shockwaves through my body.

“Christ,” I growled, breaking the kiss to trail my lips down her neck. She tilted her head back, giving me full access to her throat. I bit down, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to make her whimper. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of my shirt, desperate to feel my skin against hers. I let her. My own hands were busy with the zipper of her dress. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a fucking scrap of lace. I could see every inch of her—every curve, every freckle, every goddamn imperfection that made her flawless.

“Bed,” I commanded, my voice rough with need. She nodded, her eyes burning with the same hunger consuming me. I scooped her up in my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to the bed. She laughed when her back hit the mattress, and I was on her in an instant, my mouth finding her nipples through the lace, sucking and biting until she was writhing beneath me.

“Please,” she begged, her voice a fucking plea that went straight to my dick. “I want to feel you.” I was just as impatient as I ripped the lace off her body, tossing it aside like the useless barrier it was.

“Please what, beautiful? Use your words.” I pushed a finger inside her, and she was soaked, her arousal coating my fingers in a testament to how much she wanted this—wanted me.

“I want you inside me, Dominic. Now.”

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