Page 30 of To Hate You

I cleared my throat. “I feel like this is the part where I say I’m sorry for kissing you, but that would be a lie.” I grabbed a chair and sat down, placing my beer on the table and watching her as she took a seat across from me.

“I don’t want you to apologize for kissing me, Noah.” She tightened her arms around her, leaning back in her chair. “It’s just...it’s a lot to take in, and my mind is fucking chaos right now.”

I inhaled deep. “I know it’s a lot, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got sucked into this vortex of shit that is my life. And I’m sorry that you’re forced to deal with all of this. But I don’t care if the devil himself demands it; I won’t apologize for kissing you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she pressed her lips together, ignoring eye contact with me as she glanced around the cabin. “Whose place is this?”

“A friend.”

“A wealthy friend.” Her eyebrow twitched. “You sure have a lot of friends for someone who doesn’t stay in one place for too long.”

“Some friendships never die, especially when forged in life and death situations.”

“You said you had friends helping. Where are they now?”

“Where they need to be.” I got up and opened the fridge. “You hungry?”

“No.”

“You have to eat.”

“I know that,” she snapped, and I frowned at her over my shoulder. “I’m not a child, Noah. I know I have to eat. I’m just not hungry right this minute.”

I smirked. “There she is.”

“What?”

I closed the fridge and faced her. “The stubborn redhead everyone knows and loves.”

Her fingers weaved together, and she glanced at her lap. “A lot has changed.”

“I can see that.” I leaned against the fridge. “Why?”

“Because I got my heart broken.”

“It’s not just that...is it?”

She didn’t look up and shifted in her chair, now nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Something was different with her. And it didn’t have anything to do with the situation we found ourselves in. It was something else entirely; I could feel it.

Was it him? Was it Andrew with his fake-ass smile practically begging me to tear his spleen out? The entire time I watched them from across the street, drinking coffee and eating cake like they hadn’t a care in the world, I wanted to walk over there and pull his ass over his goddamn face. The possessive fuck in me wanted to storm into that coffee shop, tear Sienna’s jeans off, bend her over the table and shove my cock so deep into her, she’d gasp and scream my name while he choked on a piece of chocolate cake. I’d fuck her hard, rough, clasping her hands behind her back while looking that motherfucker straight in the eye—conveying an unequivocal message. This woman was mine.

Unfortunately for me, getting arrested for public indecency would have fucked up our plan. My blood boiled, nonetheless. I had to fucking know if Andrew was the face behind this change I sensed in her.

I brushed the pad of my thumb along my bottom lip, studying her. “Sienna, look at me.”

She bit her lip and peered at me from under her lashes.

“What changed?”

“I did,” she replied and shrugged. “Everything changed.”

The fire flickered, bursting through the darkness and scattering the shadows. The light of the fire enhanced the color and luster of her red hair, painting it with golden hues, the flicker of flames dancing across her flawless, pale skin. Sienna Whitlock wasn’t just beautiful; she was exquisite.

She was mine.

Not anymore.

Headlights flashed through the window, and I glanced at my wristwatch. Right on time, to the fucking second. “Stay here,” I ordered, grabbed my jacket and exited the cabin, closing the door behind me.

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