Don't Fall For Me : An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Hate to Love Book 1)

by Gigi Black

  “No, but I know you’ll fall for me if you’re not careful. Remember, that was the one rule. Don’t. Fall. For—”

  “You’ll fall for me before I fall for you,” Hazel said, lifting her chin. “Bet.”

  I sniggered, and she flipped me off, proudly.

  Christ, I liked that about her. A woman who was both shy but confident, mature but young-at-heart, and caring. The women I’d dated, albeit in a very short-term way, had all been attractive, but there’d been something missing. Not enough sass or just a disconnect.

  With Hazel it was like… Fuck, you’re an idiot. Stop getting sentimental. I viewed her through a nostalgic lens, that was all. Because she’d been my first real crush in high school. Not a chick I’d wanted to bone and forget, but one who’d gotten under my skin.

  “Thank God.” Seth appeared on the path in front of the clubhouse, dressed like he’d just left a frat party, popped collar and all. “I was beginning to think the worst.”

  “That we’d died in a vicious animal attack?”

  “Huh?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t think of anything worse than that.”

  Hazel snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Alien abduction. Death by alien abduction.”

  “Anal probed to death?” I raised an eyebrow. “Inventive.”

  “Did you two put a different kind of sugar in your cereal this morning?” Seth asked, looking first at Hazel then at me.

  “It’s the whole engagement thing,” I said, waving a hand. “Has us giddy.” I joined Hazel again, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. “Where’s the dickhead?”

  “You’re going to need to be more specific,” Seth said.

  “Really?”

  My brother rolled his eyes. “He’s starting out the morning with a gin and tonic. He said to bring out his golf cart and park it in front of the club. Keep it running.”

  “You do that,” I said. “We’re going to rent out some clubs and a cart.”

  “Dad wouldn’t like that.”

  “And I couldn’t give two shits.” I led Hazel away, and we chatted while we rented out the clubs and the cart from a pimply teenager who’d lucked out and gotten a summer job at the club. It was the perfect day for golfing—clear blue skies, not a hint of wind, but not too hot, either. Mild enough that we wouldn’t sweat ourselves off the shiny seat of the cart.

  I helped Hazel into the cart, the diamond on my grandmother’s engagement ring sparkling on her finger, then circled to the driver’s side and got in.

  “You ready for this?” I asked, sliding a hand up her tan thigh and resting it just below the hem of her skirt.

  “You say that like there’s something to be ready for. It’s a golf cart.” She popped on her cap, pulling her ponytail through the gap at the back.

  “Famous last words.” I slammed my foot down on the accelerator, and we took off down the neat pathway, spitting up gravel.

  Hazel shrieked and grabbed the side bar.

  I checked on her but found she was all smiles, hanging on for dear life, her hand holding down the cute pink, peaked cap.

  Mortimer’s cart had cruised onto the course already and headed for the teeing area at hole one.

  My competitive streak rose, and I raced to catch up with him because it would annoy the shit out of him, and there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. He wanted me to play nice and to find a woman to marry? Well, we’d only technically agreed to one of those things, and Hazel had played the fiancée admirably.

  I sped past my father’s cart, eliciting a yell from the occupants and another whoop of joy from Hazel, then parked the golf cart on the fairway.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Mortimer yelled from his cart. Of course Seth was the one driving it. My brother parked next to us, his lips twitching and settling. “Are you insane? You’re going to kill someone like that.”

  “Good morning, Mortimer,” I replied. “You insisted we join you for a round. I’m merely acquiescing to your request.”

  “Hi.” Hazel flapped a hand at him. “How are you this morning, Mr. Woods?”

  My father gave her the steely-eyed Woods look that usually melted the faces off Wall Street investment bankers. Hazel didn’t flinch.

  Jesus, she’s fucking kick-ass.

  “Have a good breakfast?” she asked.

  “It was… fine. Thank you.” Surprisingly civil. Had Seth talked some sense into the old man? Impossible. “The clubs.”

  A caddy had arrived in a separate cart—my father wouldn’t dream of riding in the same one with a “plebe”—and fell over himself grabbing Mortimer’s bag from the back of the golf cart. Seth’s bag was fetched by a second caddy.

  “We’re hoofing it,” I said. “No caddies for us.”

  “Suits me just fine.”

  “We should blow this off. Come on, let’s go fuck in the clubhouse restrooms.”

  Hazel pinched my arm gently, and the intimacy of that gesture hit so hard, it was like a gong had gone off in my chest. It was playful and sweet, rather than sexual.

  “Get your head in the game, Woods,” she hissed. “We’ve got an inheritance to save.”

  “Right. Yeah. Of course.” I got out of the cart, and by the time I’d gotten around to her side, she was already out and stretching in ways that made my cock twitch.

  “Damien,” Mortimer called. “Bring your fiancée over here. Let’s see how well you two fare in a real man’s sport.”

  “A real man’s sport,” Hazel muttered. “Suddenly wondering if your father can do backflips like a female Olympic gymnast.”

  “Thanks for that image.” I took our set of clubs—we’d opted to share one—and shouldered it. Hazel grabbed my free hand while Mortimer bossed around his caddy.

  It was going to be a long damn day.

  But at least you’ll be spending it with her.

  22

  Hazel

  I hovered at the end of the bar, separated from Damien, his brother, and his evil-eyed father, my phone pressed to my ear.

  Making a call had been an excuse to get away from them, but also, I was worried about Dad. He’d been quiet today—usually, he’d text me at least once in the morning and another time in the afternoon. The phone rang on the other end of the call, but he didn’t pick up.

  “Come on,” I murmured and hit dial again. “Come on.” My stomach tied itself into knots. If anything had happened to him while I was out here having a sex-filled weekend with a guy I’d sworn I’d never speak to again…

  “Hello?” My sister’s voice came down the line.

  “Kara?” Confusion thrummed through me. Kara was supposed to be staying at the apartment Damien had picked out for her. “What are you doing there?”

  “What do you mean, what am I doing here?” Kara grew petulant. “I could ask you the same question. What are you doing out at some resort and spa with Damien Woods of all people?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “You abandoned Dad.”

  I nearly snorted, and a fresh load of steaming rage dumped on my head. “I abandoned Dad? Me?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Kara, you haven’t even spoken to Dad in months. Not properly. You haven’t asked me once how he’s—you know, what, forget that. Just tell me why you’re at the house. Don’t you have a job to get to? You got that toothpaste commercial, remember?”

  Kara went quiet.

  “Ka?” I took deep breaths to calm myself. If anything went wrong over there while I was gone, I’d flip. I needed it to be OK. “Ka? Is Dad all right?”

  “He’s fine. He’s downstairs with the nurse lady.”

  “OK.” That was a good start. “And you’re…”

  “I lost the commercial, OK?” Kara snapped it out. “They fired me. And if you must know, I got kicked out of that apartment that your fuck buddy set me up in.”

  There was so much wrong with those sentences, I didn’t know where to start. “He’s not my fuck
buddy,” I said, stupidly, and ran my thumb over the gold band on my ring finger. I took a breath, allowing the true crappiness of what Kara had just told me to sink in. “What do you mean you got kicked out?” My voice rose, and a few of the preppy golf-shirt wearing old guys turned their head.

  The inside of the clubhouse’s bar smelled of cigar smoke and wealth, with leather armchairs, a gleaming wooden bar, and crystal glasses hanging from it. This wasn’t the place to yell.

  “How did you manage to lose your job and get kicked out in the span of a few days?” I hissed.

  Another silence. “Don’t be mad,” Kara said.

  It was a bit late for that. “Kara, what’s going on?”

  “It was just a big misunderstanding, that’s all. I’m sure we could work it out, or Damien could. You could have him call the landlord and maybe even the people at the studio, I mean…”

  “Kara.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s no big deal. Just… don’t get mad OK?”

  “Tell me. Now.”

  “So, I have this friend who does amateur videos, and he was talking about how you can make a lot of money, like a lot, if you just know the right people. And if you have a nice place to film.”

  “Amateur… video. Am I—are you—?”

  “Don’t worry, it was super classy. Nothing too intense, but I guess we were making too much noise, because the guy who owned the building came over and found us filming. Apparently, we were supposed to get a permit to film or something, so they kicked me out.” Kara spoked in a rush, practically falling over her words.

  “Kara, are you telling me that you did porn?” I breathed. “In the apartment that Damien secured for you?”

  “I mean, that’s a harsh word. It was an amateur sexual film,” she said. “Or something like that. There was no butt stuff.”

  I whipped the phone away from my ear and glared at in disgust. Was this even my sister? What the hell had gotten into her? Kara had always been on the selfish side, but to do this? “Kara. Kara, what the fuck have you done?”

  “Don’t be such a prude. It was two consenting adults and a camera crew. It wasn’t like—”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “No. Look, I think I’ve found my new calling,” she said. “I’m really good at it.”

  “I’m going to be sick.”

  “Grow up, Hazel. Plenty of people do porn. It’s a natural thing. We were all tested and clean, and I’m totally on the pill, so it’s safe.”

  How had my sister gone from a long-term boyfriend to porn? It didn’t compute. “Kara. You can’t stay at the house.”

  “I’ll pay rent,” she said. “I’m going to have plenty of money now. But I was wondering if you’d be OK with me filming in the—”

  “Absolutely not,” I thundered, and this time, I didn’t care which crotchety old dude caught sight of me. “If you’re going to do that, you do it somewhere else. And you don’t tell Dad. It will break his heart.” I hung up on her, breathing like… well, like my twin sister had just told me she was a porn star.

  Damien caught my eye, but I waved at him and forced a smile then turned and headed for the ladies’ room. I couldn’t tell him about this. I couldn’t tell anyone.

  In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My reflection that was pretty much identical to Kara’s, barring a mole on my left earlobe.

  Should I go home?

  No. Everything was technically fine with Dad. It wasn’t like Kara had been arrested. And my father was with his nurse and safe. I only had one more day of this damn weekend to get through, and then it would be over, and I’d be back.

  I’d still have another thirty days on the contract with Damien, but at least I’d be home where I could look after my father and deal with my sister’s bullshit.

  I cleaned myself up, applied a layer of lip gloss, straightened my shoulders, then headed back into the bar area. God knew I’d need my wits about me if I planned on dealing with Mortimer. He’d already asked several awkward questions about how long we’d been seeing each other and what my intentions were with his business. Not his son, but his business.

  Money was all that mattered to—

  I turned the corner and walked into someone. “Ouch.” I rubbed my hand. “Ouch.”

  “You OK?” The calm voice came from Damien’s brother, Seth. He wore a suit and a sheepish smile. “My bad.”

  “No, it’s mine. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Distracted?”

  “A little.”

  “Anything I can help with?” Seth brushed fingers through his blond hair, and I was suddenly aware of just how handsome he was, and the fact that he was definitely checking me out.

  I wasn’t interested, of course. Damien was… an obsession, and Seth was just—well, he didn’t have the same vibe as his brother. And there was no history there.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.” I touched my thumb to the inside of the engagement ring again. “I’d better get back to Damien. And you’d better…”

  “Use the toilet,” he laughed. “Right, yeah. Listen, I’m really happy that you’re with my brother. Between you and me, I didn’t think he’d ever settle down. You remember how he was in high school.”

  “Vividly.”

  “Right, so just knowing that you two could overcome that is pretty great. I’m happy for you. And for him,” Seth said, and he seemed genuine. “I’ll admit that the turnaround has surprised me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, a couple weeks ago he was in France, and I’m pretty sure that he was seeing women there. Several of them. Now, he’s engaged and happy.” Seth paused. “You do know my father wanted him to get engaged, right?”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, because neither Seth nor Mortimer could find out we were faking it. Mortimer wanted his son to actually marry someone within thirty days, the friggin’ loon. “That’s part of the reason we decided to take our relationship to the next level. We were sort of on again, off again, trying to pretend we didn’t love each other, but… well, love wins out, right?” God, I hoped he bought that plate of stinky cheese.

  “Right.” Seth’s brow furrowed slightly. “Just be careful.”

  “Huh?”

  “I love my brother, but he’s got a habit of hurting women. And my father… he’s got a habit of hurting everyone. Marrying into the Woods family isn’t a decision you should take lightly. Don’t get me wrong, I really want Damien to get married, it’ll mean I can continue doing what I want with my life, but I want him to be happy first and foremost. You too.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Phil,” I replied, with a wink. “I think we’ll be fine.”

  Seth’s warm laugh followed me as I headed for Damien at the bar. His words lingered too.

  Damien was a playboy. He’d been dating multiple women as recently as weeks ago, and here I was, having a weekend fuck-a-thon with the man.

  Don’t fall for him.

  Don’t.

  I was starting to worry it might already be too late.

  23

  Damien

  “I can’t keep my hands off you,” I growled and walked her through the door to our shared suite, nipping her earlobe. I brought my mouth to her neck and sucked a trail up and down it, my hands working against her breasts over the preppy golf shirt.

  “Damien,” she moaned. “You’re bad. We’re supposed to stay for dinner.”

  “Fuck dinner,” I replied. “We spent all day with that prick. It’s my turn with you.” I spun her in my arms and kissed her, bringing every ounce of passion and need I’d restrained over the course of the day into it. “Do you have any idea how crazy you’ve made me today? Walking around in that little skirt… I’ve pictured pulling it up and fucking you over the bar at least fifty times.”

  “That would cause a scene.” Hazel was breathless. Hazel was mine.

  “Give me that pussy.” I turned her around again, then bent her over the edge of the bed
, so that the toes of those cute tennis shoes touched the floor, and her white mini skirt rode up to just below the crease of her peachy ass. “Fuck. Fuck, you are perfect.”

  I reached under that skirt, flipped it up, and found white cotton panties. This time, I removed them carefully.

  “Open your legs. That’s it.”

  Hazel’s pussy dripped for me. Quivered. Fuck.

  I dipped two fingers inside it, and she bit down the on the duvet, releasing a muted squeal. She rocked against my hand, keen for more of me, and I removed my fingers and buried my face in her wet heat, sucking on her lips then her clit, then dipping my tongue inside and fucking her with it until she arched off the bed, her thighs trembling.

  She came with two of my fingers buried deep inside her, and my mouth suckling on her clit.

  After, I allowed her to roll onto her back, and she stared up at me, her eyes glazed over.

  “Hazel,” I said, “are you good?”

  “Huh?”

  “You were upset in the bar this afternoon. Are you good?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She pushed herself onto her elbows and broke eye contact. “Damien. I just want to feel good right now. Fuck me, please.”

  “You sure?” I was raring to go, but I didn’t want to do this if she needed something else. Like actual discussion. “We can talk.”

  “No. Fuck me, please. That’s all I need right now.” She rolled onto her front again and lifted herself onto all fours. “Like this.”

  It was our last night to do this. Assuming Hazel didn’t change her mind.

  I unzipped, brought my cock out, and climbed onto the bed behind her, throbbing and dripping for her already. Christ, no one had turned me on this much. No one.

  “Please,” she whimpered, shaking, her ass cheeks jiggling a little.

  I slapped one of them, placed my dick at her entrance, and slid inside. I held back a groan. She was so fucking swollen and wet. I pumped deep but slow, trying to hold back so I wouldn’t be forced to my climax too quickly.