I Hate You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “Patience, baby,” he growls down at me.

  My lips press against his neck and when I suck that skin, he grunts, picking up his maddening pace just a little, his hips twisting as he grinds down inside me.

  I hear Penelope opening the front door, calling my name, and I block it out, watching him move above me.

  I tug at the hem of his T-shirt, and he pauses and helps me, whipping it off and tossing it on the floor. He undoes my bra and throws it over his shoulder, a little curve on his lips as he stares down at me.

  “You like this?” I say, cupping my breasts and brushing my finger over a nipple.

  His throat bobs. “You. I like you.”

  My hands clasp his shoulders, caressing the skin I’ve missed so much. He shudders when he clutches me against him, my breasts against his chest.

  His words are broken up in pieces when he speaks, each phrase in sync with his thrusts as he picks back up. “Charm…we never did it like this…on a bed…me, looking down at you. How good is this,” he groans.

  “So good,” I pant out.

  He scoots us up and moves to his knees, adjusting so he holds my hips up at the tops of his thighs. I can’t really move, and he does all the work, so…intent on me. Holding my gaze, his finger rubs my clit as he slides in and out, back to that slow pace, savoring me.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” I say, my lips parted, arching up for more.

  “In my dreams, we do this. We do this all the time—me fucking you slow until you’re begging to come.”

  “I’m begging now.” I lean up on my elbows, wanting him closer, wanting his skin against mine.

  He slides back in, unhurried and deep, a small smile on his lips. “That’s not begging. Those are just pretty words. I like actions. Show me you want to come.”

  Show him? Oh, I can. I reach up, grab a handful of his hair, and pull his face to mine. I lick his lips, just a tiny sweep, and give him a nip there before pulling away and staring into his dark eyes. I push his hand off my core and touch myself.

  “Charm,” he growls, his hands moving my legs up until they’re over his shoulders and he’s looming over me, and when he pumps inside me this time, it’s ferocious and hard and out of control.

  He feels bigger, thicker as he pushes into me, and my hands fall to my sides as fire licks at me. Need rising. Escalating, higher and higher.

  Sweat drips off his face, and he’s muttering nonsensical stuff I can’t make out, his gaze needy…and emotional as he stares down at me.

  He’s everything. He’s everything I never knew I wanted. He’s perfection wrapped in a dark, deep lake, and I ache to swim in those waters, to discover his secrets and let him delve into mine.

  My body quakes for release, my mind holding this picture of him in my head. I don’t want to forget his beautiful face—wanting me.

  I don’t want to forget a thing.

  I say his name when I come with a groan, my back lifting off the bed, my head twisting as I vibrate around him.

  He puts his face in my neck and goes with me, his shoulders stiffening under my hands then quivering. He continues to pump in and out until we both slow down, our breaths loud in the quiet room.

  He rises up on his elbows and stares at my lips. “Charm.”

  “Blaze.”

  “How soon can you go again?” He grins.

  I burst out laughing. “You are insane.”

  “I am—for this.” He moves his head down close to me, his nose brushing against mine, his mouth inches away. I freeze, unease sliding over me. I can’t give him that. I can’t. It’s the final piece of me.

  He sighs and rolls away from me.

  Silence ticks by as we stare up at the ceiling.

  He lifts his hands and scrubs the lines of his face.

  A long breath comes from him, and I try to take his hand. He pulls it away from me, not far, but enough that I know he doesn’t want that.

  I think a full minute goes by. I turn my head to look at him. “Do you regret…what just happened?”

  He frowns. “No. I just had the best sex ever.”

  Oh.

  I chew on my lip. “But you don’t look happy.”

  He focuses back on me just as his cell pings from his jeans.

  “That’s your phone,” I say.

  He exhales, sits up, and reaches for his pants on the floor where they ended up, fumbling for it. He reaches into his pocket, grabs the cell, and reads the message.

  “Someone important?” I ask, sitting up, fighting annoyance, wondering if it’s one of the many girls who hang on him.

  “Yeah.” He takes the condom off and throws it in the trash. Pulling his jeans up, he tucks his phone back in his pocket, grabs his shirt, and puts it back on. His shoulders are tense as he walks around the room, seeming lost in thought. He stops at the door, and I feel faint.

  I stand up and straighten my skirt then put my bra back on. One of my heels came off, and I jerk the other one off, pushing it out of the way as I stand. “So…you’re…leaving?”

  He stares at me, his expression torn. “I have to work out. I promised Coach and that was him. I can’t miss it.”

  “So it wasn’t a fan?”

  His eyes flare. “Honestly, I think you want me to say yes. It would make things easier for you.”

  I toss my hair back. “Don’t turn this around. You’re the one standing at my door after sex.”

  His voice is quiet. “Charm, you—you won’t even let me kiss you. Why do you care?”

  My heart trembles inside me. “Then go!” I say, annoyance ratcheting up to anger.

  He frowns. “Look, I know we’re not right. I know I’m not good at talking about this stuff. I’ve never had to—”

  His phone pings again and he glances at it.

  “Just answer it,” I grind out.

  He looks back at me, frustration on his face. His fists clench. “This isn’t over. We’ll talk. I’ll text you later.”

  “Don’t,” I say bitterly. “We both know what this was. Just like old times, huh?”

  “No, it wasn’t, goddammit. We are not doing that again.”

  “Then what is this?” My eyes search his.

  He exhales slowly, his face shuttering. He swallows as he lifts his fist to his mouth. “I…don’t know.”

  I remind myself that he gave me the choice to tell him to go—and I didn’t.

  I don’t want to hurt you.

  Yeah. I see exactly where this is going.

  I walk over to him. “Let me make it easy for you. Get out.”

  He taps his leg, staring at me.

  “Charm—”

  “Now.” Before I cry. Again.

  He takes a long look at my face, heaves out a sigh, and walks away, shutting the door softly, and all the tension I’ve been holding in releases. I whimper and fall back on my bed, hands covering my face.

  Penelope knocks on my door, but I don’t answer it. I hear her shuffling away.

  I roll over and beat my pillow.

  He owned my heart three months ago, and he knows it. He knows it.

  I think back to that heart-revealing note. I was fooling myself with that blew away in the wind shit. I taped that fucker to his door, and at the time, I didn’t care who might walk by and see it, right out there for everyone. He got it and read it and if he felt the same way, if he were as gone for me as I am him, he would have told me by now.

  He doesn’t want us.

  If he did, he would have stayed.

  18

  I walk out of Charisma’s and stalk to my truck. I sit there with my vehicle idling, waiting to see if maybe she’ll come after me. She won’t though. I saw that stubborn look on her face. She’s in there fortifying her fortress, adding more cement, pushing me out of her head.

  After five minutes, I back up and pull away, building up my own walls.

  What are we doing?

  I can’t go back to the way we were three months ago, messing around and never talking.
>
  And now? I’m hot and cold with her, and I know it.

  I also know I can’t go back to needing her but still being afraid to commit to something when I don’t even know what it is.

  It’s not fair to her.

  Today, I just couldn’t resist her, and when she needed me to take her home, I practically jumped at the chance, jonesing for just a few minutes alone with her.

  I have feelings for her, scary fucking feelings that keep me awake at night.

  Like wanting to burn shit down to make her happy.

  Like being willing to walk across scorching hot coals just to hold her in my arms.

  I just need to…forget her.

  Forget those big eyes.

  Forget how she makes me laugh.

  Move on.

  My head goes back to my parents, and tightness builds in my stomach. They stumbled in and out of our trailer, high and glassy-eyed, needing their next fix. I had basic needs taken care of—mostly—but I never felt loved. Not once did they ever say it. Neither of them looked at me, their eyes going right over the restless, frustrated kid I was. Stop wriggling. Shut the fuck up. Watch TV.

  They left me at a gas station. They left. People leave. Charisma will too. One day.

  I drive down the highway to the gym, barely knowing where I’m going, operating on autopilot.

  Dammit.

  I’ve got to focus on what really matters, on my dreams and how bad I want it.

  But.

  I want—

  Her.

  I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going on like this. I tried to remove her from my head last fall, and here I am again. She deserves better than this. She doesn’t need a coward. My hands clench around the steering wheel as I pull into the field house and park.

  * * *

  Dillon has one foot on the bench press seat and points at the bar loaded down with weights. “You game for some more weight?”

  I grin. We’ve been working out for an hour and I’m sweating, but bring it on.

  “My personal best is 290 pounds,” I say.

  “Not bad for a slow wide receiver,” he says. “You can do better.”

  I laugh. “You trying to kill me?”

  He studies me. “Just trying to keep you busy. You seem distracted. Wanna try more?”

  I do the quick math on the bar on the bench; it’s around 315 pounds.

  I lie down below the bar and put my hands on it. “Let me show you how Mississippi boys lift.” With a grimace, I blow out a breath and push up, and he helps me lower the bar to my chest.

  “Ready?”

  I give him a nod and he releases it, his face serious as shit. Adrenaline ratchets me up, and I clench my fingers around the metal.

  I breathe out, the muscles in my arms and chest tightening as gravity threatens. The bar starts to rise, and I get almost to the top then stop, quivering. My arms scream, and I feel like my chest is going to split in half.

  “Come on, man, do it,” he says.

  “I am!”

  He balls up his fists and gets in my face. “You will never play in the NFL, boy. You’re just a small-town kid in a big-city world. You don’t belong in pro football. You’re too slow.”

  My eyes flash.

  He gives me a hard look, green eyes shining. “You’ll die alone, Blaze. Worst thing is, Charisma is moving on, but you don’t want her anyway. Maybe I’ll start tapping that.” He mimics a motion of doing her from behind, slapping an imaginary ass. “Oh, yeah, just like that. So good, so good…”

  “Dillon!” I call out and shove at the bar until it’s at the top. My gaze lands on him. “You sonofabitch, I’m going to beat the shit out of you. Don’t you ever say—”

  He laughs, holding his chest. “Ah, don’t get pissy. I’m pumping you up, man, and I got you.”

  My teeth grit, anger hot. I take several deep breaths. He’s just messing around, I know he is, and that’s the only reason I decide to let it slide.

  “Asshole,” I mutter. “Someday some girl is going to twist you up, and I hope I’m there to see it.”

  He slaps his chest. “This heart is cold as ice, man. I thought yours was, but…” He grins.

  I immediately drop the bar back to my chest again and force it up a second time. He cheers and a few of the other guys come over to watch.

  After the third rep, Dillon helps me move the bar back to the rack, and my arms go limp. I just bench-pressed twenty-five more pounds than my maximum. Damn.

  The guys slap me on the back, and Dillon puffs up and looks around at them. “See? Good wasn’t enough for Blaze here. That’s why he is going to the NFL come draft time, and we’re still here practicing for next season. You commit and focus like Blaze and maybe you’ll get somewhere one day.”

  Dude. That might not happen, my eyes tell him, but he’s on a roll, and I know he’s positioning himself as captain next year.

  “Blaze Townsend!” calls Coach Sanders from the door. His eyes land on me. “In my office, now!”

  Shit. He’s the one who texted me, but when I came in earlier, he told me to work out first and then he’d get back to me.

  Dillon looks at me. “Archer again?”

  I shake my head. I’ve been avoiding any run-ins with him. “Don’t know.”

  “Sounds ominous. You better go.”

  I stand up and shake out my muscles, thinking about hitting the hot tub later.

  Coach is talking to someone on speakerphone as I come in. He looks up at me and points toward a seat. “Here he is now,” he says to the phone.

  I frown and try to figure out what’s going on.

  “Sir?” I ask as I settle in.

  Coach points down at the phone as a voice comes through.

  “Mr. Watson here. I’m on the board for the Combine.”

  My heart stutters, and I lean in. “Yes, sir. Blaze Townsend. Nice to meet you.”

  He chuckles. “I like that Southern drawl, son. We’ve got a lot of good guys from your neck of the woods.”

  I swallow, my hands tightening in my seat. “Sir, I can talk all day if you let me.”

  Another laugh. “Well, Coach Sanders here has been telling me about how fast you are.”

  “Best ever,” I say.

  “I’d like to formally extend an invitation for you to come to the Combine and let us get a look at you, see you run. I can’t promise a higher rating in the draft, but Coach seems to believe in you, and well, I like an underdog. What do you say?”

  “Fuck yeah—I mean, yes, sir! I’ll be there!” I’m standing now, leaning over the desk. My chest feels like it’s going to burst.

  I hear him slap his hands together on the other end of the call, clearly excited. “Outstanding, Blaze! I have some papers my assistant will send over for you to fill out. We’re running late on this, so get them back to me in the next two days.”

  “Sounds good, Harold.” Coach Sanders takes over, probably because I’m wide-eyed and jumping up and down, fists in the air. “Send the papers to me, and I’ll make sure he gets them.”

  After a few back slaps and thank yous to Coach, I leave his office and grab my phone. I want to tell someone.

  I realize I’ve already brought up Charisma’s name. Good news and she’s the one I want to tell.

  Even though things aren’t right between us, I text her anyway.

  Who else would I tell?

  Charm. I’m in the Combine. Can you talk?

  She doesn’t reply, and I pace around the hall. Shit, shit, shit.

  Can I call you? I’ll come back.

  Still no reply, and I’m about to call her when Dillon comes around the corner. “Well? What happened?”

  I grin and hold my hands out. “You’re looking at a Combine invitee, man, every fast motherfucking inch of him.”

  “Hell yeah!” He gives me a quick man hug. “Now, how about some fun?”

  I nod and look back at my phone. Nothing. She’s shutting me out. I can’t blame her.

  I tak
e a breath. Fine, fine.

  “Let’s grab showers and get to Caddy’s. Ready?”

  I look at Dillon, seeing the excitement on his face.

  I lock thoughts of her away, step by step, carefully folding them up in my head.

  In a few months, we’ll be going in different directions. She’ll graduate and leave, and I may be in the NFL.

  And that…

  That makes my heart shift inside my chest. To think of her miles away…

  I take a breath, pushing her further from my mind.

  Football. It’s all I have.

  “Yeah. Caddy’s. Let’s go.”

  19

  Our next class with Dr. Cartwright rolls around the next day, and even though I’m riding high on my good news, I’m anxious about Charisma.

  Dillon’s talking a mile a minute about the drinking we did last night. It wasn’t much on my end, but he was lit, a girl on either side of him back in the dorm after we left Cadillac’s. I came out at one point to grab some Gatorade and saw three naked bodies on the couch. I laughed and kept on going. I just hope he’s using condoms.

  “You’re not listening to my play-by-play,” he grunts as we take the stairs. “You slipped off to bed and missed all the good stuff. Pussy.”

  “Oh, I saw your white ass. Ever consider waxing?”

  I throw him a look, laugh, and pick up my pace.

  He nods. “Yeah, she’s going to be in there and you can’t wait to see her.” There’s a glint in his eyes that gives me pause.

  “What?”

  “Dude—how long are you going to wait? If you want her that bad, tell her. Go steady, or whatever people call it.”

  I look away.

  He shakes his head. “You two are driving me bonkers in there. I’m tired of sitting next to you always eye-fucking her. Do something. I’m tired of you moping around.”

  “Fuck off.”

  He laughs.

  We enter, and she’s already in her seat, head bent down.

  I tune out the girl who comes up to me, brushing past her to get to the front row.

  I get hot all over as I approach. Her long silky hair is straight today and hangs in a curtain around the sides of her face, the pink back and mingled with her darker strands. She’s got red eyeglasses on, something she doesn’t do often, and I wonder if she’s tired.