Page 51 of Hate the One You're With
Caleb steps closer, the corners of his mouth quirking up in that maddeningly confident way that always gets under my skin—in the best possible way. “I told you it wasn’t over, Emmersyn,” he murmurs, his voice low and taunting, achallenge dancing in his eyes. He’s close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating off him, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe.
“There goes the pearl necklace,” I say as his breath caresses my cheek.
“You can have it,” he murmurs, his voice rough and seductive making my pulse race and my panties wet. “Actually, I want to see you wearing just that—and nothing else.”
“You really think you can handle it?” I try to hold my ground, resisting the urge to beg him to take the ache away.
I curse the day he began creating that ache in me—slowly, teasingly—and then showed me how only he could make it disappear with his words, his mouth, or anything he could think of. I should take that power away from him. Teach my body to reject him, not to obey him.
But it’s a losing battle. His voice wraps around me like a command, his dominance seeping into every part of me, making it nearly impossible to fight back. Every cell in my body responds to him, craving the release only he can give, and I hate that I’m still so vulnerable to it, to him.
“Maybe you’re the one who’s about to get burned with white hot flames,” I retort, my voice wavering just slightly, betraying the struggle within me.
His smile deepens, his voice dropping an octave as he moves even closer, closing the gap between us. “Oh, I can handle it—you,” he murmurs, the words laced with a promise that sends a shiver down my spine.
The room seems to shrink around us, the air thick with electric tension, the kind that makes my skin tingle and mypulse race. My breath catches as his gaze locks onto mine, the intensity in his eyes making it impossible to look away.
The space between us feels almost nonexistent now, every inch closer setting off a chain reaction of sensations that leave me reeling. My mind struggles to keep up, torn between wanting to push him away and pulling him closer.
My breath hitches as his gaze drops to my lips, the space between us shrinking with every passing second. The tension is almost unbearable, a taut string about to snap. “Is that right? You can handle me?” I ask, trying to mask the voice of a woman teetering on the edge of something she can’t control, something she’s not sure she even wants to control.
“Yeah,” he breathes, the single word heavy with intent. And before I can say another word, he closes the gap, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, teasing kiss that sends a shockwave through my entire body.
The world tilts, my equilibrium slipping as I cling to the sensation—the warmth of his mouth, the firmness of his hands as they slide down to my waist, anchoring me to this moment. His touch is a paradox, both comforting and challenging, grounding me even as it feels like every piece of me is coming apart at the seams.
My resolve, carefully constructed and fiercely guarded, begins to crumble under the weight of his kiss. It’s as if every barrier I’ve put up is being gently but relentlessly dismantled by the tenderness of his lips, the way he pulls me closer, his hands splayed against my back, pressing me into the hard planes of his body. The heat between us intensifies, a steady build of desire that has me clinging to him, wanting more, needing more.
I’m melting into him, losing myself in the taste of him—the slight hint of coffee, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, the way his lips move against mine, coaxing, demanding, and yet somehow still so achingly tender. It’s a kiss that sears me from the inside out, making my body zing with electricity, my skin prickling with the thrill of being this close to him, of finally giving in to the pull that’s been between us for so long.
A soft moan escapes me, muffled by the pressure of his mouth on mine, and I feel him respond, his grip tightening, his kiss growing more urgent, more insistent. The fire inside me roars to life. I pull him closer, needing to feel him, needing to lose myself in him.
His hands move down, fingers brushing the curve of my hips, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. I press into him, the heat of our bodies merging, my heart racing as the kiss deepens, becoming something more—a desperate, hungry connection that leaves no room for doubt, no space for second thoughts.
This is what I’ve been resisting, what I’ve been afraid of—this consuming, all-encompassing need that blurs the lines between want and necessity. And now that I’m in it, now that his lips are on mine, his body pressed against me, I can’t imagine pulling away. I don’t want to.
I want more. I want everything.
The world narrows down to just the two of us, the space between our bodies almost nonexistent. There’s a familiar, almost nostalgic harmony in the way we fit together, like we were always meant to collide like this—as we used to.
His grip on my waist tightens, pulling me flush againsthim, and it’s like the air around us thickens with every passing second, heavy with need, with desire that’s almost suffocating in its intensity.
He dips his head, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, and when he speaks, his voice is low, rough, laced with an edge that sends a thrill of anticipation straight through me. “You have no idea how badly I want to feel you again,” he murmurs, his words dripping with dark, dirty promise. “I’ve been dreaming about your tight little cunt—how perfectly you take me, how much I missed being inside you. And when I finally get there, I’m not going to stop.”
His words light a fire in my veins, a slow burn that spreads through my entire body, making my knees weak and my heart pound. A small, involuntary whimper escapes me, and I can’t help but squirm, the delicious friction of his body against mine almost too much, and yet nowhere near enough.
My skin tingles with the heat of his breath, the way it fans over my neck as his lips trail down to my collarbone, each touch sending sparks of pleasure racing through me.
His mouth finds mine again, the kiss deeper this time, more demanding, as if he’s trying to consume me completely. And God, I want him to. The way our bodies press against each other feels like we’re slipping back into an old, familiar rhythm—as if no time has passed at all. The intensity of the moment is almost overwhelming, but I can’t pull back, I don’t want to. Not when this feels so good, so right.
His hands roam down my back, fingers grazing over the curve of my spine, and I arch into him, my body responding to his touch with a mind of its own. There’s a desperate hunger in the way he kisses me, like he’s been starving for this, for me,and it’s intoxicating. My fingers grip the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, needing him closer, as the kiss deepens, becoming something more—something primal and raw, something that leaves me trembling with need.
His lips leave mine only to brush against my ear, and when he speaks, his voice is a ragged whisper. “You still drive me fucking crazy, Emmersyn,” he growls, the heat of his words searing my skin. “I want you so fucking bad. I’ve been imagining how you’d feel wrapped around me, tight and desperate, begging for more. Can you picture that?”
A delicious tremor races down my spine at the promise in his tone. I can’t help but bite my lip, trying to stifle the whimper that’s threatening to escape. The heat between us is unbearable, a steady build of tension that has my body tingling with anticipation, my skin buzzing with the thrill of being this close to him again.
The need inside me is almost painful now, a throbbing ache that demands to be satisfied, and the way he’s touching me, the way he’s kissing me, only fans the flames higher.
I’m losing myself in him, in the taste of him, in the feel of his hands on my body, in the way his voice makes my pulse race. My mind is a blur, my thoughts scattered, as every part of me focuses on the here and now—on the way his lips move against mine, on the way his hands pull me closer, anchoring me even as I feel like I’m about to come undone.
