(Book 2 in If I Could series)
"What do you want, Lily!?" he yelled, his patience on the verge of snapping. "You keep telling me you hate me but clearly you don't, you want me but you won't accept it either. You're stubborn and crazy and I- just tell...
AN: hey guys! i have changed my username from “fantasizer16” to “kreesilver” and i also have made a new writing account on instagram with the same name “kreesilver” if you like my books, make sure to follow me. Also, like and comment on my posts; that would help me SO MUCH. thank you guys!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I hated the way my ears perked up or the blush rushed up into my cheeks. I also hated the way my body always became aware of him, of his toned chest only a breath away from my back, of his scent; a mix of woods and bergamot that dizzied me. God, I hated him. And I hated even more how much I tried to convince myself I really, really hated him.
I took a step ahead and whirled around, not wanting to risk getting into his personal space but the moment I did, he took a step ahead and his toned chest; the one that I was thinking about only a second ago brushed against mine and a breath whooshed out of me. Even in my heels, I could only see his chin, forcing me to stretch my neck if I wanted to see his eyes. And the moment I did, my breathing stuttered.
The rapt fascination that he was watching me with was dizzying. His attention zeroed in on me, uncaring of the soft music emanating from the restaurant or the patrons only tables down dining, he leaned forward, his breath hot on my ears. “I just said hello, Lily. Do they not greet back in America anymore?”
“Yeah,” I said hoarsely, the closeness of him messing with my head. He pulled back with a smirk, noticing my nervousness but I tipped my chin up, instilling confidence in my voice as I said, “We don’t greet back assholes here in America. And you happen to be one. A massive one at that, too.”
The side of his lips kicked up as he walked around me pulled the chair of a nearby table, gesturing for me to sit in. I deliberately walked away, pulling the chair opposite the one he had pulled and sat down, raising a brow. He only shrugged, his voice amused as he said, “An asshole, huh?”
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, the deliberate playfulness in his voice undoing me. Only last night he was glaring at me like he hated me, smirking at me as he announced our deal while I’d made it abundantly clear I wanted nothing to do with it or him. He’d then triggered a habit in me I had long overcome as rage had me frozen to the floor while he had spout nonsense. And now he was being funny?
“What the fuck is your deal?” I bit out, my voice hardening. “You come into my life, you walk out. And now you’ve come again. You made me beyond angry last night and now you’re feeling a comic? Do I look like a toy to you? One you can play, leave and come back to play again any time you want?”
I watched as the lightheartedness from earlier evaporated from his body and the way his shoulders stiffened before he gulped softly. He looked at one of the waiters and snapped his fingers as if he had known him for an eternity. I followed his gaze over my shoulder and a gasp got stuck somewhere in my throat as the waiter approached our table, a tray with a glass bottle on it in his hand.
