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

by Gigi Black

  The sex turned rough, my fingers digging into her ass cheeks while she played with her clit, bringing herself to the edge again and sailing over it. I thrust deep and hard, then flipped her onto her back and pushed her legs back behind her head, folding her so I had her pussy on display, her tits pressed together.

  “Hold your legs,” I said, and she did as she was told, pinning them back for me.

  I tucked my cock inside her now-gaping pussy and used my free hands to play with her glistening clit.

  “It’s too good,” she whined, breaths hissing in and out of her mouth, her emerald green eyes rolling back. “It’s too good. It’s too good.”

  “Come for me,” I grunted.

  Three times in one night? I’d make it double that, triple, if I could. I’d make it so Hazel never forgot this weekend, so she would be ruined for every other man. She would want only me from now on.

  And you’ll want only her.

  I forced the thought away and focused on her dripping pussy instead. I flicked her clit idly then set to work, pressing my cock inside her slowly. She trembled, she nearly lost her grip on her legs, she nearly lost her fucking mind.

  Finally, she soared toward her climax and closed around me, her jaw dropping, one eyebrow lifted, a silent scream scratching at her throat.

  I came with her, filling her up, blanking out and then coming back to the present to find her with her eyes half-lidded, a tiny smile on her lips.

  Gorgeous.

  I pulled out of her and lay on the bed, tucking my arm under her head. I kissed her on the temple, fighting the urge to sleep.

  A buzzing came from nearby.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “My phone.” Hazel sat up.

  I regretfully let her go, and she scrambled off the bed and fetched her phone from her handbag.

  “Dad?” she answered the call. “Oh. Hi, Kara.”

  The prodigal twin sister on the phone, interrupting our sexy time? Unforgiveable. Then again, the sexy time had technically been over. It was the cuddle time that’d been cut short. Why the fuck did that bother me?

  My concern shifted to Hazel.

  Her lips had parted and the color had drained from her face. “W–what? What? Tell me you’re kidding, Kara.”

  I was up and out of the bed, instantly. I pulled on my pants, straightened my shirt and walked over to her, keeping enough distance from her that I didn’t stress her out but providing my presence, in case she needed the moral support.

  Hazel shook her head, eyes wide, finding mine. “I’m coming home. Just… I’m coming home, all right?” She hung up. “I have to go. Now. I have to go.” Hazel ran for the closet, opened it, and started pulling clothes out and dumping them on the bed.

  “What happened?” I didn’t stop her. “Hazel.”

  “My sister… fuck, I can’t believe this. I can’t believe—” She dropped a shirt, balled up her fists, and pressed them to her eyes. “I can’t.” She sobbed.

  I was with her in two broad strides. “Hey. It’s OK.” I folded her into my arms. “It’s going to be OK.”

  “No, it’s not.” Hazel croaked into my shirt. “The house. She set the fucking house on fire.”

  Literally?

  “It’s gone. Or it’s burned so bad that they have nowhere to stay, and I… I just have to go back. My father needs me.”

  “I’m coming with you,” I said, gruffly.

  “What?” She pulled back, and the emotion in her eyes twisted a knife in my chest. “Are you… why?”

  Because I hate to see you hurting. “Because we have a contractual agreement, Hazel. That includes your father and sister being looked after until this is over. All three of you can move into my place in Chicago,” I said, calmly. “You’ll stay until your house is fixed up.”

  “I can’t afford—”

  “I’ll handle the fees for everything,” I said. “Depending on the damage, I’ll have your house repaired within the contractual period.”

  “That’s not possible. From what Kara was saying, it’s completely ruined. Their clothes. Their… everything.” She broke off, and tears swam in her eyes again. “Thank God, Dad remembered Piddlywump because Kara wouldn’t have. She would have left him to die. She would have—”

  “Everything will be taken care of,” I said and hugged her again, stroking circles on her back. “I promise.”

  “I can’t let that happen.” She pulled away again. “We can’t live in the same house as you.”

  “You can and you will,” I replied, stiffening, the businessman taking over. “We have an agreement, Hazel, and you won’t be able to fulfill it if you’re living out of a fucking dumpster, stressing about your father’s health and your sister’s… behavior.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Besides. Mortimer wants us to attend some bullshit charity event in a couple days. I’ll need you in top shape. Focused. Happy.”

  “You’re serious about this.”

  As I am about you. “I don’t joke about business,” I replied. “Let’s pack. I’ll make a couple calls. We’ll be back in Chicago by tonight.”

  24

  Hazel

  “They’re already moved in,” Damien said, slipping the phone into his pocket, the picture of calm in the back of his chauffeured Porsche. There was no divider between us and the driver, but it didn’t put him off. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Nurse Jackie says that your father has an appointment today and that he’s doing well, considering what happened.”

  “I’ll be taking him to that appointment,” I said, right away. I’d missed out on too much already, and all because I’d spent the weekend fucking a guy who’d already broken my heart once before. Ridiculous. “Listen, thank you for your hospitality, but you know the weekend is over now, so…” I trailed off, glancing at the back of the driver’s head.

  Was there a tactful way to tell Damien we couldn’t play stuff the taco anymore? It probably wasn’t just to say, “We can’t play stuff the taco anymore,” but damn I was tempted.

  “So,” Damien said, arching an eyebrow. His bemused smiled told me he knew exactly what I wanted to say but was going to make me say it out loud. “I’m looking forward to you staying at the house, gorgeous. It’s past time you move in.”

  “Huh? Oh! Right, yeah. Totally.” The act we were supposed to put on. Me being his fiancée. But surely he didn’t expect me to do that in front of my father. And Kara. God, she would mock me for that, not that she had a syphilitic leg to stand on, currently.

  That was mean.

  Well, so was doing porn while having my exact likeness. What a nightmare. It was like an episode of Friends gone wrong.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking that we should sleep in separate rooms until the wedding,” I said, grasping at the only straw in sight. “That’s what real couples do. I mean, ha, not that we’re fake or anything but… you know what I mean.”

  “You want to stop fucking until the wedding?”

  I choked on saliva. The asshole was toying with me. Now. After my father’s house had caught fire and we were living with him under duress. OK, technically under contractual agreement.

  “Because that’s going to be a problem for me, Haze. You know how crazy I am about that pu—”

  I broke into a coughing fit, and he matched it by laughing so hard he slapped a thigh.

  The SUV pulled up outside a house with silver front gates. They swung open, and the tires crunched on fancy gravel. The drive was short. The house had three stories, a porch, and a garden that was so well-kempt it was almost impersonal.

  “You live here? I thought you lived in New York.”

  “Honey, you know that this is a company home.”

  “Right, yeah. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” I managed.

  “You just need to get that pussy filled.”

  “Damien!”

  He exited the car and walked around to my side, waving the driver away. He opened the
door and held out a hand for me. I got out but let go of his hand, right away.

  “You don’t think your father will be suspicious if you pull away?” Damien asked and swept me into a hug. “He knows we spent the weekend together.”

  “That doesn’t mean we need to be all over each other. I don’t want him to know about the engagement.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to lie to him,” I said.

  “But you’ll lie to everybody else. For money.”

  I pushed away from him, my heart turning cold. So much had transpired this weekend. He’d been so sweet, then fiery hot, and then…

  Seth had been surprised that his brother would ever settle down. Mortimer had called me a gold digger.

  I had to remind myself that this was fake. The weekend had been no strings attached.

  “I’ll do what I have to do to protect my family.” I removed his grandmother’s ring from my finger and placed it in its box then slipped that into my purse.

  Damien watched me, eyes narrowed. “Just remember the event tomorrow.”

  “You don’t need to—”

  “Hazel!” Kara strutted out onto the porch, wearing nothing but a robe and a bikini of all god damn things. That wasn’t her. Kara was flashy, but to make herself at home like this? “Have you seen this place, bish? It’s unbe-fucking-lievable.” She swaggered over to us and put out a hand. “Well, hello there, Damien. Long time, no drool.”

  “Kara.” Damien nodded and didn’t take her hand. “Your room OK?”

  “Yeah, it’s great.”

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked. “Is he inside? Where’s the nurse?”

  “The nurse left. Said she would be back later for dinner or something.” She waved my question away. “Don’t worry about it. Dad’s fine. He’s watching documentaries in the living room.”

  “Upstairs or downstairs?” Damien asked.

  “The downstairs one. Wait, there are two?”

  I didn’t hang around for the rest of the conversation. Inside, I followed the sound of a TV, across a massive entryway, down a paneled hall, and into a tastefully decorated living room, with cream leather sofas, and a fluffy rug in front of the fireplace.

  My father sat in an armchair, his feet up and his gaze glued to the flatscreen TV on the wall.

  “Dad.”

  “Nut!” he croaked it, and it was as if I’d left a different man behind at the start of the weekend. Had it only been three days? My father was paler, thinner, with dark circles under his eyes, the last tufts of his gray hair standing on end.

  My throat tightened. A meow came from my father’s lap. Mr. Piddlywump rose and stretched, arching his ginger back. He purred frantically at the sight of me but didn’t jump off my father and run over.

  “Piddles here has been keeping me company all weekend,” my dad said and stroked the kitty cat. “He’s barely left my lap.”

  “That’s sweet.” I swallowed emotion and walked over to my father. “I’m sorry I had to go, Dad.” I dropped my handbag next to his chair and crouched down, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him tight. That familiar Dad smell was bittersweet, this time.

  “Don’t be silly, Nut. I wanted you to have a good time with Damien. He’s a good man.”

  “Dad. It’s not like that. Damien and I are just friends.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?” I pulled back, sitting on my haunches, my hands on his forearm now.

  “I miss your mother every day, you know. Every day.”

  I choked up. My mother had died when I was twenty-one, and there wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t miss her too. “Don’t you wish… Dad.” I glanced over my shoulder then met his gaze. “Don’t you kind of wish that you hadn’t… gotten married? Or fallen in love? I mean, if you’d never met or if you hadn’t gone out with her, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

  My father took a deep breath and rested one of his hands on mine. “You can’t have love without pain, Nut. That’s just how life works. One way or another, it will wind up hurting,” he said. “And I would not have given up what I had with your mother, or the fact that I have you girls, for anything in the world. Not money. Not a life free of pain. Nothing. That’s just what love is.”

  I forced myself to swallow the tears. “OK.”

  “Now, don’t ask me anymore depressing questions. Come sit down and tell me about your trip. Did you have fun?”

  “We went golfing.”

  Dad pulled a face. “Doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  I laughed and scratched Piddlywump behind the ears, reluctant to leave my father’s side now that I was back. He could say what he wanted, but I couldn’t shake the guilt of having him left him here. Christ, there’d been a fire. If I’d been around, it never would’ve happened because Kara wouldn’t have gotten back inside the house.

  “What else did you do?” Dad asked.

  I told him about hanging out at the pool and how great the restaurant was, and that we’d gone crazy riding up and down in the golf cart, but that we’d spent most of the afternoon packing to get back.

  “You shouldn’t have come. We’re fine. Well, now, we are, thanks to Damien. Ah! Here he is.” My dad positively beamed at my fake fiancé.

  “Settling in all right, Mr. McCutcheon?”

  “Just great, thank you, Damien.” My father struggled like he wanted to get up.

  “Don’t,” Damien said.

  “I want to shake your hand, son. You’ve done me a real service by helping out.”

  Damien came forward and shook my father’s hand. “No need to get up. But can I get you anything else? You hungry? Have any favorites?”

  “Not hungry, no.”

  “When last did you eat, Dad?” I asked.

  “This morning, I think.”

  “Then we’ll get pizza,” I said. “Or Mexican? Tacos?”

  My father shrugged.

  “Tacos it is,” Damien said and left us alone.

  And there I was, appreciating his hospitality and how nice he was to my father, the fact that he hadn’t complained about my shedding cat or my half-naked, seriously weird sister. Except it was all part of the contract and nothing more.

  Keep telling yourself that.

  25

  Damien

  The following evening…

  The last place I wanted to spend the evening was at some snooty event that was supposed to be for charity but was really nothing but a giant dick-measuring contest for people like my father. The only relief I had from the bullshit was Hazel.

  She was gorgeous in a form-fitting silk dress, her cleavage popping, the engagement ring sparkling on her hand. Christ, I had to keep reminding myself that the weekend of fun was over and being inside her again would only be torture at this point.

  It had to end.

  She was just a business partner now.

  But entering the hall only heightened my desire for her.

  Men and women near the entrance to the hotel’s events hall turned and stared at us. Eyebrows raised, lips pursed, men clutched their partners all while checking out Hazel like they’d never seen a woman before.

  Or an angel.

  I ran my hand down her back and settled it in the small of her back, the heat of her body already driving me wild.

  Calm down. You can’t do anything anymore. It’s over.

  What would be worse? Having her again or being without the physical contact for thirty days? And then never seeing her again. Either way, Hazel wasn’t here to stay, and I’d known that from the start.

  I wasn’t cut out for long-term relationships. I’d learned that from experience and from watching my father. If I was anything like him…

  “This place is amazing,” Hazel said.

  “I didn’t notice.” I’d been too busy coveting her.

  The events hall was all polished wooden flooring and crystal chandeliers. Tables spread through the room, pulled back from a small dance floor, behind which a live b
and performed on a stage that would later host pompous speakers.

  Waiters circled the room, holding trays that carried glasses of bubbly.

  I stroked my fingers up Hazel’s back and rested them against her neck. She turned her head, lips parting then closing again. She stepped away from me, and the lack of contact was like a sucker punch.

  “You OK?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Just want to get this over with and get back to Dad. I don’t like leaving him alone.”

  “He’s not alone,” I replied. “He’s got Piddles.”

  “Mr. Piddlywump,” she corrected, tersely.

  “And he’s got your sister.”

  “Don’t even get me started on that.”

  “What’s going on there?” I asked. “Anything I should know about? I spoke to the landlord, but he didn’t give me any details. Something about inappropriate behavior?” I hadn’t bothered pushing him on the issue. Kara had stolen from her ex-boyfriend, and I’d had the inclination she’d done something as devious this time around.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Hazel said, stiffly.

  “All right. You know, you can tell me any time you like.”

  “Why? What’s the point?” Her gaze roved over the hall. “We’re not going to be friends after this.”

  “Business partners can be friends,” I replied, evenly. “Unless there’s a reason you can’t be friends with me.”

  “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “That’s a tall ask. It comes naturally to me,” I said.

  “At least you admit it.”

  “What are you looking for?” I asked. “My father?”

  “Yes. The sooner we finish here, the sooner I can get back to Dad and check on him.”

  “He’s fine.”

  She flicked her long hair back and gave me nothing but beady-eyes and teeth. “You don’t get to tell me whether he’s fine or not, Woods.”

  And we were back to enemies. Apparently, the sex had dispersed some of the tension between us and made it so we could have a conversation without her calling me “Woods” or practically chewing my face off with her eyes.