Page 112 of What If I Hate You
“What you said tonight… about using my voice,” I start, but he shakes his head gently as he closes the distance, standing before me now, towering and fierce.
“You already know what you need to do.” His eyes bore into mine, a mix of encouragement and something deeper that sends my heart thudding against my ribcage. “I know what you’re thinking,” he says, his voice low, and it makes my insides twist.
“What am I thinking?” I challenge, but my tone lacks any bite. I’m practically holding my breath, waiting for him to unravel the knot of uncertainty that’s been gnawing at me since I left the office today.
“That you’re scared. That this might blow up in your face.” He steps even closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the light from the kitchen. The heat radiating between us is palpable, and I can almost feel it sizzling like the tension on the ice before a big game. “But let me tell you this. Every time I’ve taken a risk, every time I’ve faced the fear of failure, those moments have defined me more than any victory on the rink ever could.” He lifts his hand to my face, smoothing his thumb over my cheek. “And I am so damn proud of you for taking a stand. I’m sorry it was because of me or had anything to do with me whatsoever. I never wanted to put you in this kind of position, but I’m proud of you no matter what.”
His words wrap around me, warm and inviting like the hoodie I’m drowning in. But it’s the heat from his body, closeenough that I can feel its pulse, that sets my skin ablaze. I’m standing on the precipice of something monumental. A leap into an unknown that thrills and terrifies me at the same time. There’s a spark igniting in the pit of my stomach, a wild urge to surrender to this moment, to the man who stands before me like a guardian and a tempest all at once.
“Barrett,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper, but the way he looks at me, the way his gaze darkens with need, makes my heart race. The air between us is thick with something primal, something that blurs the lines of friendship and pushes against the constraints we’ve imposed on ourselves.
He doesn’t respond immediately, just steps closer, closing off the space between us until my breath hitches. His hand reaches out, brushing my cheek with the gentleness of a lover and the urgency of a man who knows exactly what he wants. “Do you know how hard it is for me to watch you hurt?” His voice is rough and the way he looks at me sends a shiver down my spine. I feel exposed yet somehow protected at the same time. His words wrap around my heart like a vise, squeezing tighter, and I feel the heat rising to my cheeks.
“Barrett…” I manage to utter, but it’s barely a whisper, lost in the charged atmosphere between us.
“I’ve never been good at showing emotions,” he continues, his voice low, almost a growl that sends shivers racing up my spine. “But you… you deserve everything in the world, Blake. And I want to be the one who gives it to you.”
The sincerity in his eyes makes my heart thrum wildly. How can someone so intimidating also possess a softness that cuts through my defenses? Each word pulls me closer to him, and I can’t help but feel desperate for that connection, for the comfort of his presence. He closes the distance between us completely, his breath ghosting over my lips and the world fades away. Nothing exists outside of the two of us.
“Please, Bear.”
The moment my plea slips past my lips, it’s as if a dam breaks inside him. His mouth crashes onto mine, fierce and demanding, pouring all his love into this kiss. My heart races, thrumming against my chest like a wild animal desperate to escape as he pulls me closer. I can feel every muscle in his body—strong and solid—pressing against me, igniting a fire that spreads through my veins.
He tastes like warmth, like something sweet and intoxicating, and it makes my head spin. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him deeper, and he responds with a low growl, one that reverberates through me, urging me to climb higher and higher until I’m drinking in the heat of him, utterly lost.
His hands find the hem of my hoodie, pushing it up and over my head in one fluid motion, leaving me bare and exposed beneath his gaze. I shiver under the weight of his intensity, the way his eyes darken with desire, and it sends delicious chills dancing down my spine.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly as he traces my collarbone with his fingertips, igniting every nerve ending in my body. I feel every kiss of air against my skin, the way he explores my body with one fierce gaze, and it sends a shudder of anticipation racing through me. I can’t help but arch into his touch, craving more while drowning in the intensity of this moment.
His lips brush against mine again, slow and tender, a stark contrast to the fire igniting inside me. Every kiss is a promise, every breath shared pulls me deeper into his warmth.
“You’re the only thing that matters right now,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, wrapping around my heart like a warm embrace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BARRETT
Ikiss her jaw, the curve of her neck and every inch of skin I can reach, not because I’m trying to rush us anywhere, but because I can’t stop tasting her.
I don’t want to stop tasting her.
She’s warm and trembling under my hands, and I swear I could live right here forever.
I want her to feel everything. Not just that I want her, but that Iseeher. That I’m here. That there’s no version of her—reporter, skater, stubborn-as-hell fighter—that I don’t love.
That I won’t love.
Her breath hitches as my lips find the hollow of her collarbone, a soft sigh escaping like a secret I’m the only one privy to. I’m consumed by this moment, the heat between us crackling like electricity, igniting something deep within me. I drag my hands down her sides, relishing the way her body arches instinctively toward me, as if it knows we’re bound together in this space, this time.
With every kiss, I want her to forget everything outside these walls; her ambition, the stories she’s spun about me, all the reasons she thinks we shouldn’t be here. I lift my head to meet her gaze, and the intensity of her eyes sends a rush through me.There’s a wildness there that speaks to our rivalry, but beneath it lies something genuine. Something raw and unfiltered that tethered us together in the first place.
I carry her to my bedroom, where the sheets are cool against her heated skin, and I can’t resist the urge to map every inch of her with my own body. I hover above her, my weight supported by my forearms as I drink in the sight of her. Her hair splayed out like an offering, eyes dark and inviting. I press myself against her, feeling every pulse of her heartbeat beneath my skin. The air is thick with anticipation, a simmering tension that sends shivers racing down my spine. She bites her lip, a gesture so innocent yet charged with promise that I can barely hold back the urge to claim her again.
“Barrett,” she whispers, and even in that single word, I can hear the challenge laced within. She’s never been one to back down, and I know that this moment is just as much about her taking control as it is about me wanting her more than I ever thought possible.
I lower my mouth to her ear, my breath hot against her skin. “You might be the one writing the headlines, but right now? Right this very second, I want to writethisstory.”
She shudders at my words, the fight in her fading for just a second, and it’s intoxicating. I want to unravel her, take her apart piece by piece until she’s laid open before me, vulnerable and raw. And then I want to love her through every second of putting her back together.
