Page 1 of Hate On

Prologue

Roman

Present Day

She stoodat the side of his bed, her brown doe eyes big and wide, pleading up at him for forgiveness, begging for what they used to have to stay the same. Wanting to see love, affection, affinity, anything good at all in his eyes.

It was too fucking late for that.

She had another thing coming if she thought this time would be like their last.

He wasn’t going to be soft or kind or gentle.

Never again.

Not after what she’d done to his heart.

He gave her shoulders a sharp shove, pushing her onto the bed. When she giggled out, seeming utterly entertained by his move, he groaned low through a shallow breath.

For fuck’s sake.

That wasn’t the reaction from her that he was going for. She could at least notice that he was pissed as fuck. But how could she? This woman was cold as ice, and had no problem stabbing him in his back, so how could she possibly put her selfishness on hold long enough to notice what he was feeling?

As he got in beside her, he flipped her onto her stomach and tugged down the zipper of the rich red strapless ball gown she had worn to whatever event she was at earlier in the evening. The force of his movement caused a small tear where the zipper stopped, and he felt a hint of satisfaction.

I ruined her dress.

Like she ruined us.

Turning her onto her back, he dragged the dress off of her completely. He used to love staring at her delicate lines and creamy skin. Under the soft light glowing in through the windows at night, she’d always been perfection.

But now, he couldn’t stand to look at her beauty. Not when he knew her own flesh and blood had a hand in turning him into the bad guy. Now, she was just like every other woman who had an agenda when they climbed into his bed.

Her legs parted slightly and he ripped her silky panties off her hips. He did the same with her bra next, and lowered to one breast, sucking her nipple in between his lips. He flicked his tongue across her puckered flesh. She writhed under him, panting for breath, and he threw the shredded fabric clear across the room when he remembered why he was here.

It was to use her perfect fucking body.

To break her.

Like she’d done to him.

She stared up at him, bare, vulnerable. She was filled with lust, but there was a bit of something else in her gaze.

Fear.

Good.

She fucking should be afraid.

Her breath hitched as he grazed callused palms up the sides of her legs. Stopping at her waist, he turned her onto her stomach and raised her ass high into air. Yes, he fucking wanted her, but he was done staring at that face, and those lips that spun lies with such ease.

"Roman," she whispered his name on a breath.

Undoing his belt buckle, he unbuttoned the waistband, lowered his zipper, and found the strip of three condoms in the pocket of his slacks. He planned on using these up on her tonight.

I'll fuck her.

Then I'll do it again, and once more to make her raw before I send her on her way.

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