Hate You: Chapter 8

My heart’s out of control in my chest as I hold Zach’s stare, trying to appear like I’m telling the truth when in reality the wildest thing that’s ever happened in my sex life is probably a really bad attempt at shower sex.

The last thing I wanted to do tonight was to have to sit and listen to Zach’s American conquests while Titch tries to hit on me. I mean, he’s cute, but that’s all there is for me.

“Go on then, Tabby Cat. Enlighten us to your wild side,” Zach taunts.

“Give it a rest.” Titch places my drink in front of me. I’m desperate to reach out and down it in the hope it gives me a little confidence, but I don’t want to break first. Zach already thinks he knows me; I refuse to appear weak. “Drink this and shut the fuck up or go home.”

I pray that Zach takes that final suggestion and gets up, but he doesn’t. He lifts his fresh pint and drinks it while watching me over the rim of the glass.

“So Biff, you’re single, right?”

“Yep, exactly how I like it. I can have a little fun with no strings and no responsibilities.”

“A-fucking-men, girl.” He holds his glass out for me to tap mine to. “Welcome to the team. I think it’s the start of something beautiful.” I want to agree. I love the three of them, they’re good fun. It’s the boss who has my stomach in knots and my skin burning with awareness.

Choosing to ignore his piercing stare, I twist myself so I can focus on what the others have to say.

“You ready to hit the dancefloor, Biff?”

“It’s three in the morning, you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly. I want to see if you’ve got moves.”

I was grateful for my little spur of the moment shopping trip this morning. It meant I had something to change into for this impromptu night out.

“Oh, I’ve got moves, don’t you worry.” I wink at Titch and down what’s left of my drink. I’ve had enough in the past two hours that the thought of dancing the rest of the morning away doesn’t sound totally insane. I’ve not pulled an all-nighter in years, so I guess it’s about due.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Hoping Steve will be on the door and we’ll get right in.”

I don’t get a chance to ask who Steve is because Titch takes my hand and pulls me from the booth. I assume the others follow, but I don’t really care. My thoughts are focused on the impending pounding music as it flows through my body and allows me to forget the world as I move in time.

I’m introduced to Steve. He appears to be a client of one of the guys seeing as every inch of skin is covered in ink. We skip the line and in minutes we’ve got shots in our hands, courtesy of some barmaid who takes one look at Zach, bats her eyelashes and immediately pulls out a bottle of Jägermeister and lines up a row of shots. She gives me a warning look but I just smile sweetly. I’ve no intention of getting between her and my boss, if they’re even a thing. I’ve got the impression from how he’s acted and the way he spoke about his time in America that he’s free and single.

“Cheers, Tam,” Zach says as he necks his shot and looks at me expectantly. Does he really think I’m so stuck up that I don’t know how to down a shot?

I make a show of picking mine up and licking my lips. Zach’s eyes follow my tongue and the butterflies that have been gently fluttering away in my stomach take flight once again. He swallows, and the muscle in his neck ripples as he waits for me to drink.

Sucking in a deep breath, I rip my eyes from him and tip the glass to my lips.

It’s fucking disgusting, reminding me why I never drink this shit, but I’m not being seen to refuse. He’ll only assume that it’s because I think I’m too good for it, which I don’t at all. It’s just not for me.

I manage not to show my distaste as I drop the glass to the bar.

“Right, are you ready for this, Biff? Some people say I could have been the next JT.” He winks, and I laugh.

“Show me what you’ve got then.”

In a flash we’re heading towards the dancefloor and I’m pulled into Titch’s body. His front presses into my back and his hands land on my hips as we move in time to the music.

Credit where credit’s due, he does have rhythm. I’m not sure it’s JT level, but then I’ve never danced with him to have anything to compare this to.

He leans into my ear, his breath tickling over my neck, but I don’t react in the way I think he expects me to. There’s no shudder of excitement, no rush of heat to any part of my body like I know would happen if someone else were dancing with me right now. I expect him to say something to try to pick me up, but what comes out of his mouth shocks the fuck out of me.

“Zach’s going out of his mind right now. Do you have any idea how badly he wants you?”

I still at his words for a second before I remember I’m meant to be dancing.

“I very much doubt that. He hates me.”

“That’s what he wants us all to think, and he might. But that doesn’t remove the fact that he wants to fuck you into next week.” I suck in a breath. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. The sexual tension between the two of you is so thick the rest of us can practically see it.”

“It is not.” I try to argue, but the rumble of a laugh I feel behind me tells me I’m failing miserably.

My body heats at Titch’s words, but when I glance toward the bar, I find the real reason why I’m burning up. His eyes are focused on me. They’re dark, his eyelids heavy while the muscle in his jaw ticks.

“So the question is… what are you going to do about it?”

“I… I…” I stutter, the desire flowing through my blood as I fight to drag my eyes from Zach, the alcohol in my veins making it really damn hard to concentrate. “Nothing. He can fuck off.”

“Really?” A chuckle rumbles through Titch before his hands resting on my hips tighten and I’m turned to face him.

“He’s my boss.”

“Riiight,” he says, a knowing smirk playing on his lips that I want to slap off.

“And I hate him.”

He leans into my ear. To the people around us, Zach included, it probably looks intimate and nothing like the reality of the situation. I realise that all of this with Titch really has been a game. “Sometimes that makes for the best sex.”

“Whatever you say.” I continue moving with him, but my enthusiasm is waning. I might enjoy the little hate game I’ve got going on with Zach—it certainly fulfils a need I’ve had since I was an invisible little kid—but I’ve no intention of using Titch to get back at him. They’re friends, there’s no way I’m getting in the middle of them, and the way Titch’s body is moving against mine right now and the burning stare I can still feel is proof that I’m doing just that.

“Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”

I twist out of Titch’s arms and walk away. When I glance back over my shoulder, he’s pulled another woman into his body, but the stool Zach was sitting on is empty. My heart races at the thought that he’s found his own woman to dance with and is about to put me through the same torture he just had to endure if Titch is right. Of course Titch is right, a little voice says as I follow the sign for the ladies. You already know there’s something between you. This isn’t news.

The queue for the toilets is insane. I didn’t really need to go when I excused myself in there, I just needed to get away, but by the time I get to the front of the line, I’m glad I did.

I do what I need to do, wash my hands, top up my lipstick and run my fingers through my hair, separating the curls that have twisted together. With my head held high, I walk back out into the club. I intend on saying goodbye to Titch and the others and getting the hell out of here before Zach decides enough is enough and does something about his burning stare.

Pulling open the door, I take two steps when a hand wraps around my wrist and I’m harshly pulled back. I let out a squeal but not before his hand covers my mouth—not that anyone would hear with the volume of the music in here.

My heart’s in my throat as I’m pulled back into a dark doorway at the back of the club. A shadow appears from behind me, but the second his light hair catches my eye, I relax, although not that much. The man might not be a stranger, but he’s still dragged me down here against my will.

“What do you want?” I snap, ready to push from the wall and storm away from him.

“Are you doing it on purpose?” he asks. He stands right in front of me, crowding me and blocking off the rest of the club so it almost feels private. He lifts one arm so he’s resting it on the wall beside my head. His scent fills my nose and damn if it doesn’t make my mouth water.

“Doing what? Enjoying a night out? Yeah, I guess that’s kind of intentional.” I roll my eyes at his idiocy.

“Yeah, enjoying yourself. With him.”

“Oh, I see. You’re jealous that Titch got to dance with me while you were forced to stay on the side-lines and watch. Well, I’m all yours now, aren’t I? What are you going to do about it?”

He steps closer, the heat of his chest burning into mine, his usually light blue eyes almost navy with desire. They bounce between mine before dropping down to my lips. I desperately want to run my tongue along them, but I refuse to show him that I’m affected by this. Instead, I bite down on my cheek until a metallic taste fills my mouth.

“I don’t know,” he drawls. “So many options.”

His hand lifts. Taking a lock of my hair between his fingers, he tucks it behind my ear. The second his skin brushes the shell of my ear, sparks shoot around my body.

My heart pounds impossibly hard against my ribs as heat blooms between my legs at his closeness.

His finger drops and skims down the smooth skin of my neck. Goosebumps follow his trail and I shudder. His lips twitch, telling me that he didn’t miss it.

I gasp when his finger hits the swell of my breasts and runs along the hem of my vest.

He leans in to whisper in my ear. “You’re everything I hate in a woman. Everything I’ve tried to leave behind. Yet you’re here. Tempting me. Driving me crazy.”

I swallow, shocked that he’s admitting this.

“I need you out of my system.”

He stops, his next words dying on his tongue as he continues to stare at me. I should use his moment of silence to push him away and run, but I don’t. I’m frozen to the spot, desperate to discover what he’s going to do next.

He reaches out, his fingers popping the button at my waist open in a flash.

“Oh god.” This is wrong. He’s my boss, a guy I can’t stand, my best friend’s brother—although he’s not aware of that—and we’re in a very public place right now. Yet, I still can’t find it in me to wrap my fingers around his arm and stop him.

Flattening his hand, he pushes inside. He groans when he finds the lace of my knickers, but he doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t stop until he’s parted me and his fingers are gliding through my wetness.

“Fucking knew you wanted me, Tabby Cat. Now I’m going to ruin you.”