Page 106 of When Hate and Love Collide

Didn’t she know I would always catch her? If it were my choice, I’d never let her go.

“Austin …” She pressed a hand against my chest and pulled back, as though she’d been doused with a bucket of cold water, but her eyes were still glazed over from our kiss.

“Let’s eat,” she said.

The usual heat in her eyes whenever I touched her was gone, which worried me. But I was determined to bring it back.

I smiled devilishly and lifted her so she was sitting on my kitchen island and spread her legs, stepping into them. “Good idea. Dessert first.”

She smiled then. “Austin.” She slapped at my chest.

“What?” I said, pecking her lips.

“You’re so evil.” She laughed.

My fingers brushed against her bare back, where her jeans met her sweater. “I’d say you’re evil. You’re making it hard”—I pushed my cock against her leg—“to not want you. All”—I nipped at her lips—“the fucking time.”

She shoved at my chest more forcefully and jumped off the island, heading toward the other end of my kitchen.

She lifted both hands and made a cross. “You stay right there.”

Didn’t she know no amount of crucifixes or holy water would keep me away from her? She was cute—I’d give her that.

After reaching for the food, she said, “If that’s how you greet me each time we see each other, all we are ever going to do is have sex.”

She emptied the bag, taking out the containers full of pasta and arranging them on the center of the island. Before she headed to the cupboards on the other side of the kitchen, I stepped into the counter, caging her in.

“Is that such a bad thing?” I said, kissing her again.

“Yes. A very bad thing. Because how are we ever going to get things done?” She ducked under my arm and strolled to the cabinet, reaching for the plates and silverware.

She was creating distance, and I didn’t like it.

When she returned with the dishes to serve the food, I couldn’t help it. I pulled her in from behind, dipping my lips to her ear, taking a nibble.

“Austin …”

I would never get tired of this woman saying my name. “Sydney …”

“I was afraid of this,” she whispered, leaning against me.

But her words had me pausing.

I pulled back. “Afraid of what?”

She let out a long sigh that had me giving her some room.

“Sydney?” I hated the stab of panic that hit me in the chest.

She turned to face me, and I could read the indecision and confusion in her hazel eyes.

Shit. I’d thought I’d squashed her indecision days ago.

She bit her lip and opened the containers, dividing the chicken and lasagna evenly between our two plates.

I stepped to the side to see her fully, to read her face. “What’s going on, Sydney?”

She lifted her eyes to mine. “I …” She blew out a breath. “First of all, I want to say, I like you, Austin …”

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