Hate F*@k: Part 1-2 Part 2

Ugh. "Do you like tea?"

"Sure." His voice is right there, behind me, and my breath catches in my throat. "What name did I call you before?"

My voice cracks as I answer him. "You said I was crazy."

"What?"

"Earlier, you said-" I clear my throat and drop my voice an octave. "You're crazier than I thought'. So, why do you think I'm crazy?"

When Cole laughs, it's ripped from him like he's truly surprised. I know he's ex-military, and he sees the worst sides of some scary people, but Jesus, life is too short to not laugh regularly. So even though I don't like him laughing at me, I bite back the snarky response that slides so easily to the tip of my tongue. Maybe if I'm nice to him for a minute, he'll get the h.e.l.l out of my apartment and leave me to my quiet fantasies, where Dream Cole laughs all the time. Naked.

"Hailey." His voice roughs up a bit as he says my name, and I turn around. He's not as close as I thought-a solid three feet of empty s.p.a.ce sits between us, but he's leaning forward just a bit, and it's enough to make me s.h.i.+ver. He lifts his phone, all business again. "I called you twice this morning, so I know you've got my number. But you didn't answer." He swears under his breath. "Use it. We don't need to talk, you can just text me. But don't leave this apartment alone, or there will be h.e.l.l to pay."

"That's ridiculous."

"And right there, that's why I think you're crazy."

"Well, I think you're crazy for thinking you can somehow determine that there will be h.e.l.l to pay'." My voice raises toward the end of that, because f.u.c.k it, I'm back to being mad again. "Did you stop for a second and think that maybe you think I'm crazy and a distraction and whatever else because I don't play your f.u.c.king Men in Black games? But news flash, buddy-that's not my world. I'm not a celebrity, and I'm not a politician. I'm just Hailey Reid, who had the misfortune to be born into a f.u.c.ked up family. I'm smart enough to see the problems that raises, and for the last time, I'll be a good girl, okay?"

My chest is heaving as I finish my stupid tirade, and all of a sudden I realize he's breathing hard, too. He's glaring at me, like my words wound him up but good, and then he's in front of me, right in front. Close enough I can smell his cologne and the bare skin beneath it, and then I feel him. It's weird that I don't feel him first, because he's pressed hard against my body, arms bracketing me against the counter on either side of my hips. But once I do, I can't not feel him. All of him. And he's big, and hard, and definitely turned on, which I don't expect. Oh, sweet mother of all that is holy...

"Cole-" I breathe, and he cuts me off.

"When I say you're a distraction, I mean I can't get you out of my f.u.c.king head. I wonder what the inside of your mouth tastes like and if you'd pull my hair when I go down on you."

"No." My voice has dropped to a bare whisper, because holy f.u.c.k and how is that possible?

"Yes," he growls, and I make a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. This is a disaster. It's one thing for me to covet Cole from a distance. He's beautiful. It's something completely different for him to want me.

For a second, I revel in that. I let my mind go blank and roll around in what it's like for Cole-of the mad driving skills, angry thousand-yard stare, and legendary reputation for all manner of dangerously delicious things-to have a hard-on for me. It's better than a million dollars, and for the rest of my life, I'm going to remember this moment when someone that out of my league pressed his c.o.c.k against my belly and growled at me.

But in the next second, I remember all the reasons this is a bad idea. When I'm not looking at him, I don't like Cole. And I can't kiss someone I don't like. I definitely can't rub up against them like a cat in heat. And right now, he should be doing something else. Getting my sister out of trouble, for example. And then after that, he probably has a hot date with a supermodel.

I plant my hand firmly in the middle of his chest and push.

He doesn't move.

"Cole..." d.a.m.nit. My voice is not on board with the whole tell him no plan. Instead it does a very uncharacteristic breathy sigh thing that sounds like a completely fake admonishment that's not-so-secretly an invitation to be bad. Very, very bad.

There are a lot of layers to how f.u.c.ked up my feelings about this moment are.

"I know," he rasps. "Just...shut up for a minute."

He drops his face toward my neck, and as he inhales next to my ear, my insides light on fire, like his breath is a lit match and my blood has been replaced with gasoline. No one has ever done that before, and I want him to do it again, consequences be d.a.m.ned.

Saying my name on a long, slow exhale, he drags his cheek against mine, lining up our faces.

Shut up for a minute. How the h.e.l.l does that line work on me?

Because it totally worked. Like panty-melting magic. My nipples are tight, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s heavy, and my thighs ache.

"This isn't a thing, got it?" He grinds out the words, his lips now perilously close to mine.

I can't handle whatever is going on, not straight up, so I get lippy. It's my way. "Yes. Totally forgotten already. This is nothing."

"It's not f.u.c.king nothing, Hailey. Jesus." He pulls back just enough to look at me. Great, now I've said the wrong thing and he isn't going to kiss me. Which should be the right call, but d.a.m.n, my body is protesting. "It just can't be more than this." He drops his gaze to my mouth, and that look feels almost as good as a kiss. It's deep and probing and hungry.

I don't like Cole. But I do like his hungry gaze.

I think I like it a lot. So I lick my lips.

His mouth crashes into mine at the same time as his hands slide through my hair. He's shaking as he tastes me, and I have this vague realization that he's holding back. Screw that. If this can't be anything more than a one-time-only taste, I want all of him. I nip at his lower lip, which I think he likes because he makes this grunting noise that my body responds to on a primal level.

My nipples tighten, making me aware of how heavy my b.r.e.a.s.t.s feel against my bra. Deep inside my pelvis, something tugs, freeing my inhibitions.

I bite him again and he rewards me with the same noise, louder and longer this time. He rocks me backward, sliding one leg between my thighs, and I can see how biting him might have been a mistake.

The kind of mistake that leads people to get naked against their better judgement.

Cole shudders, then he's all over me, like he needed that second sink of my teeth into his flesh to confirm consent. I get that. He kisses in a way that needs consent, that makes you feel like you've been stripped bare and f.u.c.ked hard. This kiss is going to leave me achey and satisfied, even though the bare part can't happen.

It can't happen. I'll keep telling myself that.

Our tongues tangle as I wind my arms around his neck, and his hands start to roam. First his fingers drift along the V-neck of my sweater, raising gooseb.u.mps across my chest. I desperately want him to cup my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and thumb over my nipples, but I know that's beyond the boundary he's set. I shudder as he slides his knuckles down the outside of my s.h.i.+rt, blazing matching trails along the sides of my b.o.o.bs that I very much want him to re-trace with his mouth.

As his hands land on my hips, I'm suddenly self-conscious about how wide I am there, but he's squeezing and it feels good and he's still kissing me. My mind flashes to that glaring look he gave me right before we collided, and instead of casting doubt on what we're doing, it revs me up.

"f.u.c.k yeah," he mutters, his voice gravelly and deep as I slide my mouth to his neck, tasting the warm, tight skin. I want to devour him, and he seems okay with that. His breathing slows, like he's trying to control it. I want to make him lose that control, but I'm not the only one playing with fire. His fingers toy with the bare skin at my waist, between my sweater and my generic stretchy black dress pants. Big hands. Strong, warm, calloused fingers. I almost wore jeans today. Never before have I been so lucky in a wardrobe choice, because I can feel all of him pressing into me and it's burning me up in the best way imaginable.

Tentatively, I lick down the valley between his Adam's apple and the corded muscle that flexes as he tips his head to the side. Between my legs, his thigh bunches and s.h.i.+fts. His hands slide back over my hips and onto my b.u.t.t, and all of a sudden he's lifting me.

I'm a big girl. People don't just hoist me in the air, but Cole's got me settled on the counter before I can say, "Don't strain your back," so I don't. Instead I give in to the delicious thrill of being kissed like he just can't help himself.

He settles into the V of my legs, his erection throbbing between us and he slows his kisses as if to say, if we were two other people, we'd do a h.e.l.l of a lot more. But we're not.

"You're still distracting me," he says quietly after tracing my lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

"I don't mean to..." I trail off, leaving my lips parted in invitation, but he just looks at me instead of closing the gap again. Fear holds me back from pus.h.i.+ng in for another kiss. I'm not sure what the rules are here.

"I have to go." He's got me securely in his arms, but I feel like this is the end, that he's rocked my world with the s.e.xiest kiss ever and that's it, and all of a sudden, I'm filled with a different kind of emotion.

Sadness.

f.u.c.k off.

I shove that p.r.i.c.kly b.i.t.c.h back into the pit of my stomach where she belongs, and I nudge his face with mine. He nudges me back, heat zinging between us, and then it's all wet and hot and delicious again.

But there's more this time, it's hot but it's also heavy. Too heavy, and I feel myself getting mad. Who the f.u.c.k is he to kiss me like this, make me feel like this, when it can't go anywhere?

I pull back, my lips still swollen from his bruising kisses. He chases my lips for a minute, not realizing that we're done, but we are. I need to be the one to stop this time.

It's like dragging myself blindfolded through mud. Putting distance between us is strangely disorienting when sparks are still firing in all directions and every cell in my body is saying, ditch work and drag him into your room before he realizes what he's doing.

"I didn't mean to-" he starts at the same time as I make a dismissive sound and cover my face with my hands.

"Don't worry about it, faces b.u.mp all the time," I mumble through my fingers. "You should go."

He makes a noise I can't quite decipher, and after a beat I feel the absence of his body heat as he moves away from me, then the door k.n.o.b turns, the hinges squeak, and he's gone.

I said it. And yet I'm standing here, wis.h.i.+ng like h.e.l.l I hadn't just pushed him away, because kissing Cole Parker was like winning the make-out lottery.

Too bad I'm never going to do it again.

-four-.

Cole.

Outside Hailey's apartment, I stand on the landing for thirty seconds. Twenty to get my s.h.i.+t together and will my erection away, and the last ten talking myself out of heading back inside.

Kissing her was a stupid move. I didn't mean to do it.

I've thought about it for months and done everything I can think of to c.o.c.k-block myself. Dated other women to drive the thought of her mouth from my head. Stepped back into the shadows at the handful of events we'd happened to both attend. Watched her with other men-men nothing like me-and told myself to get a f.u.c.king clue.

Downstairs, Wilson is patiently waiting for me. He looks up from his phone and smirks. "Did you forget we agreed on video surveillance for the apartment?"

f.u.c.k me. Not patient at all, the f.u.c.king perv. "Destroy that." I close my eyes. "No. Download it onto a USB stick for me. Then destroy it."

"Seriously, you want to w.a.n.k off to it? You're an idiot."

"f.u.c.k you." I take a deep breath. I don't know why I want it. I don't need video of what is probably just her heels on my a.s.s to get off. I've got the memory of her tongue licking along my lips and her teeth against the skin on my neck. I'm good. But I still want the video.

"And stop the video surveillance."

"You trust her?"

"More than I trust you, a.s.shole." It was a lie. I'd trust Wilson with my life, as much as I would Jason or Tag. But it sc.r.a.pes at me that I forgot for a second that his eagle eyes were always watching-that just a few hours earlier, I'd asked him to put that surveillance into place.

And all it took was Hailey yelling at me across her kitchen for my blood flow to head south and make some dumb-a.s.s decisions.

I'm not going back to her place. I do have will power, and I'm able to bury what I want when it's for a greater good. What's good for Hailey is me, far, far away from her.

But just in case. "And sweet talk yourself back in there and remove the cameras."

"And what should l tell her...?"

"Tell her nothing. Tell her you want a f.u.c.king knitting lesson. Tell her you need to babysit her until after we figure out a plan of attack for the media. I'm heading back to the office to meet with Jason."

Wilson shrugs, his slightly-too-long hair flopping in his eyes. He does apathetic disturbingly well, part of his everyman presentation. I've seen him be everything from a gamer geek to a blue collar construction worker. I've also see him in the underground fighting rings. Nothing everyman about how he pummels bulkier men into the mat.

Floppy hair my a.s.s.

"Thanks," I mutter, shaking his hand.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the underground parking garage beneath our offices. We have the second and third floors of an office building between Dupont Circle and Adams Morgan. s.h.i.+ny enough to impress our clients, but not quite inst.i.tutional K Street. Also, close to my condo, which is really all I care about. I stop at the coffee shop on the ground floor and get lunch, telling myself I'm not postponing the inevitable lecture on professionalism and priorities from my business partner.

I'm lying, because Jason is waiting to pounce as soon as I step into our reception area on the second floor. I should have just gone straight up to my office on the third.

"What the h.e.l.l were you thinking?" he spits at me, and I ignore him.

Instead I nod at Ellie, our receptionist. She gives me a wincing smile that says he's been p.i.s.sed for longer than the half hour it took me to get here from Hailey's place. I let out a long, slow breath, and wag my coffee at the stairs. "Let's go do this in private."

He waits until we get upstairs, then lets loose. "Tag? You gave Morgan Reid to Tag?"

Oh. "That's what you're p.i.s.sed about?"

"Tag's a f.u.c.king bull in a china shop. s.h.i.+t. I spent most of the morning apologizing for him."

"Did he make Amelia and Taylor happy?"

"Only because one or both of them want to f.u.c.k him."

I sigh. "And we know that's not going to happen, right? So who cares how p.i.s.sed Morgan gets?"

"He's the one paying our bill."

This is delicate ground. Jason's half-brother Mack is a silent investor in our firm, and Jason has a legit oar in wanting to always stay in the black. On the other hand, I don't give a f.u.c.k about money, not the same way he does. Plus we're plenty profitable. "Then you should have gone yourself."

"I did. But he's your client."

"I don't want him as my client." The half-year-old tension simmers between us. Truthfully, neither of us is right or wrong. It's f.u.c.king shades of gray and Jason wasn't pus.h.i.+ng me for selfish reasons. Between the two of us, he's more the good guy. h.e.l.l, he's still working for Uncle Sam, even if it's in a dark and unseen way.

But it wasn't f.u.c.king right, what we did. Not then. And that truth has eaten at me for six long months.

I don't care where the order came from.

Jason grits his teeth and glares at me. "Is that why you're f.u.c.king his daughter?"

I don't even feel my coffee slip out of my hand. He says the words and I'm in motion, one fist grabbing the front of his s.h.i.+rt, the other cracking against his jaw.

He's like a brother to me, so I stagger back after that one shot. One too many, but I couldn't help myself.

"You done?" he asks slowly, glaring at me from under pulled together eyebrows. His voice is quiet as he rubs his jaw. n.o.body does Disappointed Dad quite like Jason.

"It was one kiss and Wilson has a big f.u.c.king mouth." There's no point in staying p.i.s.sed about it. Part of me knew I'd be coming back to this conversation. But I'm p.r.i.c.kly-too p.r.i.c.kly, which would be Jason's point if I let him make it.