Hate You: Chapter 12

Any bit of noise, any footsteps or closing of a door, has me looking up, nerves erupting in my stomach, just waiting for his eyes to land on mine once again.

Why I trusted him not to look earlier, I’ve no fucking clue. I should have demanded he left the room, but his close proximity does something to my brain, hence why I ended up with his hand in my knickers last night. My cheeks burn and my core clenches at the memory.

Looking back to the guys’ waiting clients, I expect to find them staring at me, wondering what the hell is wrong with me, but they’re all distracted with their phones or the magazines on the coffee table in the centre of the sofas.

Unable to concentrate on what I should be doing, I pull a piece of paper from the printer and start doodling. I draw the same thing I always do. It relaxes me and helps me to block out the rest of the world as I focus on the ink marking the page. I’m transported back to a time when things were a little easier, lighter, even though seeing her words staring back at me still fill me with an all-consuming grief. I wonder if that will ever fade. If I’ll ever be able to think about my gran without the pain of losing her filling every inch of my body.

Clients come and go, the guys—minus Zach—come out to get their next ones, to grab a drink and to check up on me I’m sure, especially Titch who looks at me with concerned eyes every time he appears. I smile at him and shake my head. I’m fine. What happened earlier was just a moment of madness on Zach’s part. I’m not going to dwell on it and think it means anything other than the threats he’s given me about wanting to break me, whatever that means. I roll my eyes at myself. I’m not sure what Zach’s real intentions are, but I know for a fact that I’ll never give him the power to ruin me like he says he wants to.

As the last hour of the night rolls around, I head out to the kitchen to make coffees for the guys. I deliver them to Titch, Spike and D, who are all grateful but barely drag their heads up from the bit of skin they’re working on. Something in my chest aches when I pass Zach’s door. The buzz from his gun sounds out loud and clear. He probably needs a final drink as much as the others to get him through the night, but nothing could get me to cross the threshold into his room right now. All I can hope is that I can escape soon after the clients leave and he’ll stay in hiding. I’m not due back here until Thursday night—hopefully it’ll be enough time for him to sort his head out.

You could leave, a little voice says in my head as I drop down onto my chair with a sigh. I could, yeah. But that’s not what I’m going to do. I’m better, stronger, than the arsehole down the hall. I bent over backwards for him and his pathetic group of friends at school. I refuse to be that girl again.

Tabitha the teenager was weak. She didn’t know her place or her worth. Tabitha the woman is a very different creature and has learnt that to get what she wants, the life she craves, then she needs to take what she deserves and not let others walk all over her… parents aside, of course. That’s still something she needs to deal with.

Pulling my coffee into my hands, I allow the warmth to seep into my palms. It’s the first time tonight I’ve been alone and the silence is unnerving. I fidget my toes in my boots, needing to move, but nothing short of getting out of here is going to work. Less than an hour then I can be at home. I can lock myself in my studio and paint until sunrise if need be.

I look down at the wooden desk for the sketch I was working on earlier, but I don’t find it. Rolling the chair back, I glance around the floor, thinking it’s blown off somewhere, but again I come up empty.

The phone ringing distracts me from my search, and after booking in some sessions for a client, I forget all about it.

I can’t contain my yawn as the last client walks out and I get up to turn the sign on the door to closed.

“We boring you, Biff?” Titch asks with a laugh as he walks through with a handful of dirty mugs.

“No, just a late night and a too early morning.”

“Why don’t you get going? We can all finish up.”

“I’ve just got a few things to complete and then I’m heading home.” He turns toward the kitchen, but I quickly call him back. “Titch?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about… about earlier. I should have mentioned that you…” I hesitate but point to my ribs.

“Girl, you’ve got nothing to apologise for. I’m just sorry I don’t remember doing it.” A little colour hits his cheeks. “All that was on Zach. Can I…” He trails off before taking another step.

“Can you what?” I ask, not liking the hesitation in his tone.

“Um…” He looks away from me. “Can I see it? I want to remember what I did.” His voice is softer than usual, allowing me to see a different side to the brooding bad boy.

“Of course.” Walking over, I lift my top enough to expose my ribs.

He drops down a little so he can see, his finger coming out to run over it, although he never makes contact.

“Huh… That’s pretty good.”

“I have good taste, you know. I didn’t come here on the off chance, I’d heard about your reputation.”

“It could be better,” a deep, rumbling voice says. The atmosphere changes and becomes almost suffocating as his burning stare heats my body.

Titch stands, his eyes rolling in frustration that he’s poked the bear again.

“I’m out. I’ll see you in a couple of days, yeah?”

I nod, unable to speak as he places the mugs into the kitchen and makes his escape out of the front door. No other words are spoken, but the sound of Zach’s heaving breaths are loud around me.

I suck in one calming breath after another in the hope that I’ll be able to look at him and appear unaffected, like last night and this afternoon never happened.

Turning, I keep my eyes on the floor. “What do you want, Zach?”

He doesn’t respond, but knowing I’m still the focus on his attention, I find myself lifting my eyes to him. He’s wearing a slim pair of black jeans with rips in the knees and a plain white t-shirt. How he’s standing with his fingers gripped onto the doorframe above his head, it makes his shirt rise, giving me an inch of his sculpted waist. My mouth waters and my fingers tighten on my hips with my need to go over and lift it a little more. Abs are my weakness, and I’m pretty confident there’s a seriously impressive set hiding under that fabric.

I take my time making my way up, but when I find his blue eyes my breath catches in my throat.

“See something you like?” His head tilts to the side, a knowing smirk appearing on his full lips that I want to slap off.

“Can’t say I do.”

A laugh falls from his lips, but there’s no amusement in it.

He takes a step towards me and I take one back, feeling like I’m about to be this lion’s prey.

“Zach,” I breathe. I was going for exasperated, but as he steps closer and his scent filters into my senses it sounds anything but. My cheeks flush, knowing he heard it exactly as I didn’t intend for it to sound.

“Funny that, because last night you seemed like you very much liked what I had to offer.” His eyes bounced between mine before dropping to my lips.

“Moment of madness fuelled by alcohol.”

“Right.” A lopsided smile appears on his lips, and a bloody dimple pops up that I’ve not seen before. I want to lean forward and lick it, and the thought irritates the hell out of me.

“Fuelled by lust, you mean.”

“Hate.”

“Even better.”

When he takes another step, my retreat attempts are ruined by my arse bumping up against my desk. My fingers drop to wrap around the edge of the wood. I expect him to close the space between us but he stops a little short and drops his eyes to my body as if he’s not seen what I pulled on earlier in favour of the summer dress he took offence to.

My red leather skirt is short—too short without thick black tights under it. It exposes way more thigh than I’d usually deem appropriate. My black t-shirt is plain and simple, and the biker boots on my feet give the whole outfit an edge that I must admit that I’m loving. I’m not the only one, if Zach’s perusal is anything to go by. I can’t see his eyes, but the muscle in his neck pulses and his jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth.

He steps forward, the heat of his body burning into mine. His rough cheek brushes against mine as his hot breath tickles the shell of my ear. Goosebumps break out across my skin, and I fight to drag in the air I need with him so close. My nails dig into the underside of the desk in my attempt to keep them there and not reach out to find just how toned his torso really is. It would be so easy to lift my hands and slip them under the loose fabric of his t-shirt right now to explore in the way I’ve imagined.

“Get in my room,” he breathes, his demand making my skin prickle, but I’m afraid to admit that it’s not with irritation but desire.

“Za—”

“Don’t argue.” With that he steps away, turns his back on me and marches towards his room. “I don’t have all night,” he adds just before he disappears from my sight. I’m too distracted watching the muscles in his back pull and flex as he walks to pay much attention.

I should grab my bag and walk straight out the front door without so much as a glance back in his direction.

It’s what I should do.

But in seconds I’m standing in the doorway of his room, my heart in my throat as I wait to find out what he wants from me.

He’s sitting on the little wheelie stool he uses to work on with his back turned to me as he stares down at his desk.

“Shut the door.”

“I think it’s safer if I leave it open.”

“Fine. Your call.”

Taking a step inside, I glance over his shoulder and find something very familiar.

“My drawing. You stole it.”

“I prefer to say borrowed. I have every intention of giving it back.”

“What the fuck?” I mutter, more to myself than him. He stills and then spins, bringing my drawing with him.

“You can draw,” he states, his eyes narrowed, assessing me as if I’m suddenly someone else.

“Yeah, and?”

“What else can you do?”

“Plenty.”

“You got any more tattoo designs?”

“Aside from the one on my body, no.”

“Hmmm…” he mumbles, deep in thought.

“What?” I bark, getting fed up with his randomness and lack of explanation.

“Where do you want it?”

“What?” I feel like a fucking parrot.

“This.” He holds up my sketch and glances down at my body. “Where. Do. You. Want. It?”

“Back on my desk where you found it.”

“Don’t try to be clever. I told you everyone here has to have my ink on them.”

I blow out a frustrated breath. “I’m leaving.” I turn back to the door but pause when he speaks again.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t draw this for any other reason.”

“The reason I drew this is none of your business,” I snap.

He steps up behind me. His fingers wrap around my wrist and keep me in place.

“Maybe not, but we both know you’re lying. Where do you want it?” he repeats, his breath in my ear sending sparks shooting around my body. He releases me and his fingertips trail up my exposed arm and across my shoulder. He continues down the ridges of my spine as heat blooms in my core and my stomach clenches with desire. “I think around here.” He runs his fingers around my waist, the opposite side to my feather.

“I… uh…”

“The biggest butterfly here.” He presses his finger into my skin and then continues to point out where the others could wrap around to my back and slightly up my spine. I can’t deny that his vision doesn’t sound perfect. “It would look incredible. Don’t you think?”

My response is nothing more than a moan.

“So do you want my hands on you, Tabby Cat? Do you want to feel the vibrations of my gun against your skin, knowing that a part of me will live with you for the rest of your life?”

My clit aches as he continues talking, my skin getting clammy with my soaring temperature.

He spins me and pulls me into him. My breasts brush against his chest and I gasp at the sensation to my already peaked nipples.

The reason for our closeness soon becomes apparent when the door slams shut behind me. “You might be okay with everyone watching, but I’m fucking not. You’re mine, Tabby Cat.”

“I’m… I’m not…” He takes a step back and runs his eyes over me once again. The heat in them steals my words.

“Top off, Kitten, and hop up on the bed.”

This is a really bad idea. A really fucking bad idea. So why is it I find myself gripping on to the hem of my t-shirt and doing exactly as he says.

His focus locks on my lace-covered breasts. Thankfully, the bra I chose this morning is padded enough to successfully hide just how hard my nipples are beneath.

“This is going to be so much fun.”

“If you say so.”

He bites down on his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving my body. “This is your one and only chance to change your mind. Once you’re on that bed, you’re mine.”

Excitement and lust hit me so hard I almost stumble back. Am I okay with willingly handing myself over to him? One-hundred per cent not. But am I about to get dressed and walk out? No fucking chance.

I take a small step to my left and hop up onto the soft leather of Zach’s tattoo bed.

“You did this in black pen. That how you want it? Or were you thinking something a little more elaborate?”

“What do you think?”

“It’s not my body.”

“You’re the expert,” I throw back.

“You giving me permission to do my worst?”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“When it comes to me, Tabby Cat, I’m sure you’re going to have plenty of regrets. And they’ll start from the moment you walked in here looking for a job.”